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changlix-mp4 · 4 years ago

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BANG CHRISTOPHER CHAN ♡ : A TO Z - ( NSFW )

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

well , we all know how caring he is?

he is so dad , caring , like yea daddy ( sorry ksjsk )

ok for real ,

I think he is the type to wait a little bit , to let you both calm down , holding you into his arms

after cleaning you up

he’s gonna be soft with you

treat you right huh

little caresses and all

he is so affectionate , he’s so adorable ,, I want to hug him forever

*crying session is open*

I definitively can see him wanting to cuddle you afterwards

he would lay his head on your chest at first , wanting you to play with his soft curly hair

NATURAL CURLY HAIRED CHAN SUPERIOR , BARE WITH ME

after awhile , he would put your head on his chest and his turn , he would play with your hair

holding you close with his hand on your waist until you both fall asleep

c u t e .

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Well , before I start ,,

Chan said he loves his dimples when he smiles ,, well same

I think Chan’s favourite body part are his dimples and his whole body? I mean I don’t really know, and I can’t really explain , but the fact that he works out and take care of his body ,,

he prob likes his arms aswell ( anyways , I do )

For his partner , he’d prob likes ,, oh no ,, loves your thighs , the skin so soft , smooth ( so sexc sksj ) ,, he loves the fact that they’re not too slim and skinny . He also likes your plump lips , so kissable and soft and your tummy uwu

knowing Chan , I bet this boy loves every parts of your body

I know y’all don’t care , but

I love Chan’s veiny arms , his hands omfg choke me daddy , his cheeks , his hair , his smile omg, well … EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM ! His dimples are my weakness bye.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

not the greatest taste?

but more liquidy and not sticky gross

so I-

I think it’s fine to swallow it?

he thinks it’s hot when you do this

but he’s not the type to want you to do things that make you uncomfortable

If you don’t want to swallow it , then don’t do it

If you want to , just do it

you’ll just make him moan at the sight before him

he likes loves to cum inside

it’s his fav place

when he doesn’t cum inside you

he would cum on your thighs ( because he loves them asf )

and your stomach too

but not on your face

you both find it gross so it’s a big no no

and it’s more embarrassing than sexy so , NO

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

chan is actually pretty open about his kinks?

he’s a dom ( we all know it jk )

act like he knows what he’s doing

but sometimes it’s not the case

actually there is one thing he’ll probably never admit

he acts like he wants to do all the job

the one who control

but daddy he wants to feel special sometimes

that’s why he f loves when you want to take control

he’d act like he doesn’t want to , but boy inside is burning with excitments & anticipation

I also think chan is the type to use your underwear when he jacks off

the thought of you in them, really turns him on

he’s just a bit ashamed to steal some panties of yours he loves a lot

ohh and he really wants to try fingering you in a public place

like in a restaurant? , library

He’s nervous about bringing it up tho. It’s a thought that he jacks off to sometimes

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

not really experienced.

chris is super hot , well build , really charming , polite and all

let’s just say perfect ( I’m not even exaggerating )

everyone want to get in his pants

but

I’m pretty sure chan is a virgin ,,

I mean , he prob just saw a few porns

my boy is really intelligent so

he just learn very fast skjsl

but yea ,,

and plus , he was a trainee since he was young , 14?

being under jyp had its own restrictions

and I don’t think he needed that and he had time for that

busy man *sigh*

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. will probably include a visual)

I don’t think he is very demanding

chan is someone very simple , understanding , he’s just not complicated

not someone hard to please

so I think ,

he enjoys the traditional one ( lmao ) missionary?

he also enjoys doggy style too

he can pulls on your hair to lift you up and have your back against his chest

in this position he can put his hand on your stomach and your neck to slighty squeeze it

AND

he loves when you ride him

boy gets harder than he was ,, as hard as a rock

is that possible??

this position makes him horny asf

he finds it f hot

he loves the fact that he can see your pretty face making yourself feels good

with this position he can see your face when you orgasm

he can easily kiss your neck , make hickeys

he can holds you and yea ,,

he can do a lot of things with this position ( hell yea )

but like I said chan is a super easy person to please

missionary is his fav one

he actually finds it very confortable for the both of you

very soft in a way and romantic

making love uwu

depends of the situation obv;)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Chan is a goofy person

I mean is so giggly most of the time

ma babey!!!

he loves to tease , oh yea he does

he can be the type to laugh during sex , if you make a joke ( yea why not lmao )

if you’re uncomfortable , he’d try to make you feel better

so he’d try to make jokes ,if his first option of consolling you doesn’t work

if you guys feel like laughing , you’ll do

looking into your eyes and smiling at each other

c u t e

ngl he can get pretty serious

again , it depends of the mood

when he’s frustrated , angry , tired..

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I’m pretty sure

he is not bare down there ,,

veeeryy well groomed

doesn’t shave it all off, simply trims, all nice and neat

the amount of hair isn’t too crazy

armpits shaved , he feels more confortable and clean

guys , this boy armpits is cleaner than my whole face tf

happy trail shaved since

TOO MUCH TUMMY FLASHES

but wants to keep his happy trail ,, maybe??

ughhh I want him to keep it bcs damn this is so hot

please hear me out daddy chris

i want to suck hug him

but honestly I feel like

he can go natural when he has the choice?

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he is so caring

so very romantic

he is a passionate man and he shows it through many ways

we all know it

ahhh I love this man sfm

but sometimes he can be rough

not too much but it depends of his mood

I mean he is daddy so sometimes he feels like he have to show his daddyness lmao i just cringed help me ughhh

he feels like he have to show his dominance sometimes

but when I say rough

it’s not something really wild x)

even when he’s rough

he controls himself

and make sure to check if you’re alright

tbh rough sex happends very very very rarely

but it makes it more special ,, x)

he cares a lot about you

i think he’s more into vanilla sex

yeaa I’m sure he is sooo into it

I mean c u t e

I mean I want him to make love to me!! lord forgive me

he is naturally sweet and adorable so

lord I’m so in love with this man <3

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he doesn’t do it often

only when he really is alone

especially if you are not around

when he’s really frustrated he also tends to jack off

and one of the reasons why he doesn’t really masturbate

it’s just because he’s constantly around the boys

and my boy is a really hardworking man

well , like I said before he doesn’t do it often

probably once or twice a week? Or not at all the week

it’s when he really needs some reliefs

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

chris is kinky , PERIOD .

y’all can’t deny it

• daddy kink for sure , no doubt ahah

he said it himself sooooo

he’s daddy material tho lmao

he gets turn on when he is being called daddy sometimes

if you call him daddy in public he will get a light boner for sure

guess what will happen next;)

BUT it’s not a need !

he doesn’t want to be called that every time you guys have sex

•maybe roleplay

teacher x student / doctor x patient or stuff like that ( I think he can prob play both, that boy is a switch )

I think he’s definitively not into hardcore bondage ( sorry ) but doesn’t mind to blindfold you

•edging : giving and receiving

he loves the way he can make you whine and scream when he’s overstimulating you

BUT that is only for pleasure and not for torture

•praise kink: giving and receiving

he thinks it’s somehow important

•biting kink : both giving and receiving

he likes feeling you bite down on his skin when he fucks you

he also loves it when you moan out for him as he nips at your skin

thinks hickeys are sexy ( and tf yes they are )

•so marking kink: giving and receiving ,,

it makes him horny when you give him hickeys out of nowhere

and he loves it when you do it while he makes love to you

but most of time he is the one giving them to you

loves leaving hickeys and little bruises on your hips , neck , collarbones , stomach and thighs ( your whole body should be decorated by his soft lips skjsk )

having hickies and love bites on his neck and collarbones

he loves his back being scratched

likes seeing the scraches on his back in the mirror

oh my gosh imagine what it looks like when he takes a shower ,, the water cascading over the red marks omg help me I’m-

since I think he likes thighs ( idk why but yea)

•THIGH RIDING is a big YES

his muscular thighs!!

he likes it when you wear strockings // it’s so fucking hot

•impreg kink tho it’s so sexy and cute damn <3

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

chan is not picky , he’s a simple guy

the bedroom is perfect

why? because it’s confortable

AND secure , intimate

it’s somehow warm and all

but the rest of the house is ok tho

kitchen ( but very rarely bcs you guys feel like it’s not very hygienic but it happens only when one of you are reaaaaaaaaaaaaaally horny and impatient)

living room : couch , carpet ,, shower sex is one of his fav

bath sex with chan is a concept

he’s not into public places

he wants thing to be confortable and intimate ,, that’s why he prefers doing it at home

Or maybe omg

s t u d i o

one of his fav for sure!!

he loves having sex with you in his studio ,, hot

having you riding him slowly

or cockwarming while he’s working ( arg stop me )

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

kisses by his ears and down his neck

his ears seem to be really sensitive hehe

he really likes when you trace his veins with your fingertips ( it also turns you on , ugh it’s like i’m talking about me *moan * )

seeing you in his clothes really turns him on aswell

when you stroke his hair , like when you’re sitting on his lap and run your fingers through it , pulling at the strands a little ( goosebumps kskjs)

but ngl he can get turn on by you whatever you do lmaao

just smile , just breath , boy is turn on ( jk .. unless ahah)

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that involves bodily matter or fluids that are not sperm or vaginal fluid

he does not like degradation , it’s a big NO !

He would never ever degrade you! He likes and respect his girl too much to talk down to her ,, chan is a gentleman . He expects you to treat him the same btw

AH!! sharing you sexually . Don’t even think about it

things like threesomes and all, aren’t his thing

anything that involves violence too

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he f loves it when you go down on him kissing him from his neck all along his collarbones , abs ,, running your hands on his torso

it pleases him to hit the back of your throat ,, but stay careful to not hurt you

he loves the sight of you inbetween his legs

he likes threading his fingers through your hair ,, pulling at it a little

but my man chan is one of the few blessings on this planet

he equally loves both : giving and receiving

he likes pleasuring you ,, looking at you from between your legs seeing you rolling your eyes in the back of your head , throwing your head back

seeing the way your eyesbrows frown , biting you lips

seeing how you clunch at the sheets , and pulling at his hair ,,making him moans at the sensation and at how sexy you look like

oof this is so sexy I want to disapear helpsk

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

he can be rough y’know not really hard and fast but yea it depends of his mood

he is the one controlling the pace

even when you ride him , he’d place his hands on your waist/ hips to guild you

but I think he’s more into sensual things

he’d be slow and sensual

really slow when he wants to tease the sh^t out of you

he’d be gentle obv

y’know into vanilla sex

Idk why people think he seems to be into really rough things but I DON’T THINK it’s actually the case

my babie is so soft behind all those muscles uwuuuu

Q= Quickie ( Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex and how often? )

No, quickies mainly have to be done in a risky area and that freaks him out so no

plus he hates feeling rushed.

he’s not the biggest fan but he def. won’t turn you down if you suggest it

he won’t push you away for sure

He finds it kinda hot because it mainly means you are needy for him.

Would rather have proper sex. He likes taking his time so quickies aren’t ideal.

On the very unlikely occasion he’d go for a quickie it would definitely have to be in a place he would never get caught

R= Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

He is not that risky, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or to get caught in a sexual act

He has his own boundaries

He is prob open to try new things

he just needs to be convinced first but mainly just to tease you. He wants you to give him reasons

ngl i think he doesn’t know a lot of different kinks and stuffs so he is probably quite open for experimenting ,, curious boy

As long as none of them involve pure pain and violence he’s good.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I don’t think I really need to write something for this one? He has a good stamina and can last a long time. I think he starts really slow at the beginning and then uses more force and speed after a while .

SO all night bcs of his crazy stamina , I mean he is pretty athletic so , but again DEPENDS of the day and mood

making love all night , taking his sweet time my fucking heart is beating so fast omgg

doesn’t get tired easily i think ; I mean boy can’t even fall asleep irl

BUT don’t get me wrong he can go for rounds but makes time to appreciate your presence and enjoy having conversations with you , y’know?

So prob tried to not go too crazy bcs he wants to spend time with you afterwards get me

If i have to say the numbers of rounds i’d say 3-5 rounds max . Again , it would depends on his mood and pace

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Definitely NOT a toy user

he’s not into it at all

a vibrator is what he will use ONLY if you ask him to ( I think you must really insist if you want it )

he def prefers tease you with his fingers , cock but not objects

it’s skin against skin for him ,bye.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

lmao we all know he is a fcking tease

sometimes , I think it comes to him naturally and it’s apart of his personality

he finds it so cute when you’re frustrated ,blushing and super shy ahah ( my body is burning just thinking about him teasing skjls)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

L O U D.

I mean , please listen to 3RACHA songs , he’s pratically moaning ( that’s so sexy tho *moan*)

deep , or high pitched ( lord help me ) soft grunts

moans , groans , breathy moan ( does not scream that’s it )

please just imagine when he’s getting close and makes those sounds

( i’m the one horny rn , brb imma fix my problem lmao )

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he loves to hold your hand while you two are having sex ( uwu I’m so in love )

enjoys strip teases. Whether it’s giving or receiving ( lord , imagine him getting rid of his clothes slowly and looking straight into your eyes , biting his lips .. I’M NOT OKAY!!)

loves it when you hold his head while he gives you oral , pulling at his locks

fucking loves buying cute and sexy ( not vulgar ones) lingerie sets for you

not necessarily for sex , he just loves admiring the way you look in black or red lingeries ( or even pastel colors )

he just lives for the moments when you dress up for him , only for him

like knowing he’s the only one who sees

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

long and thick. veiny

6-7 inches

( please i just took a ruler to look at the length , the way i moaned i’m-)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

normal?, average. 1-3 times a week

but he doesn’t need to have sex every week to stay satisfied

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

depends on how long you two were having sex

of course after a proper after care.

but would rather hold you for a moment , talking with you , making you laugh and smile. It means a lot for him , want to enjoy the warmth of your bodies against each other.

c u d d l e to sleep. uwu cute

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A/N : sorry I wrote a lot , it wasn’t supposed to be this long 😭 // FEEDBACKS ARE VERY WELCOMED ♡ taglist :@justamessofablog @mermaidshmari || since you guys asked to be tagged here you are lovelies 💕🥺 ||

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madpanda75 · 4 years ago

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“Taking Chances Part 11: The Call”

We’re picking up right where we left off with Theo barging into the gallery to surprise the reader. We also find out who that special someone is that Sonny has his eye 👀

Thanks to everyone for their comments and feedback on this series! It means the world to me ❤️Also a huge thanks to @sass-and-suspenders for being my writing buddy and giving me the idea for the title.

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains an assault scene and mention of rape.

“Theo, how did you get in?” you sputtered. “You shouldn’t be here! We’re closed.”

Theo scoffed, “Please, that ditzy coworker of yours always forgets to lock the door when she leaves.” He milled around the tiny studio, picking up a handcrafted ceramic vase. “And besides you never cared before.” He set the vase down and winked.

You could tell that he was drunk. Apart from his disheveled appearance, the aroma of cheap whiskey radiated off his body and hit you like a brick wall. But there was something more, his presence filled you with a sense of foreboding. Nevertheless, you swallowed down your fear and held your ground. “That was then, this is now,” you sneered.

“Why can’t you forgive me? I made a mistake. I’m--”

“You broke us!” you interrupted. “My brother may have invited you to lunch, but I thought I made myself clear when we broke up that I never wanted to see you again.”

Theo’s face hardened. “It’s that older guy, isn’t it?” He looked you over from head to toe, like a predator studying its prey before it attacks. “Never took ya’ for a gold digger, but maybe being a starving artist all these years has made ya’ hard up for cash.”

“Rafael is twice the man you’ll ever be,” you snarled.

“You sure about that? Ya’ know you and I had some hot times together.” He arched a brow and crudely licked his lips. “Can’t deny there was some definite sexual chemistry between us.”

As he stalked towards you closer and closer, you stepped back, blindly bumping into chairs and easels until you were pushed up against the wall. You were trapped. A chill rippled down your spine and your mouth went dry, panic rising in your throat.

Theo grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to him. The acrid smell of alcohol combined with his cologne stung your nostrils. “Let go of me.” You struggled to free yourself from Theo’s grasp, but he only tightened his hold on you.

“Don’t be like that,” he cooed in a teasing manner. “How about a kiss for old times sake?” As he leaned in closer with his lips pursed, you finally wrenched free and slapped him hard. Your hand throbbed in pain. Between Theo and Sonny, you were getting tired of smacking people for disrespecting you.

Theo cruelly laughed, completely unphased by your attack. “You stupid bitch,” he growled and backhanded you across the face. The force of his slap caused you to stumble a few steps and run into a nearby table.

In an instant, he was on top of you with a wild look in his eye. “I always get what I want,” he snarled. Theo hiked up your skirt with one hand while undoing his pants with the other. Bottles of paint toppled over in your struggle, saturating your clothes and the floor. Colors swirling together--angry reds, moody blues until they combined to a murky brown.

All of your self defense classes. All of the lectures your brother gave you about defending yourself-- hammer strike, heel palm strike. It all left your mind in that frantic, terrifying moment. Nevertheless, you fought back as hard you could, clumsily kicking and screaming.

Luckily, your foot had fantastic aim and connected straight with his groin. Hard. Theo howled in pain and grabbed his crotch, giving you a chance to escape. You scrambled out from under him and collided into Phoebe who had just come back from the coffee shop when she heard you screaming. Coffee and pastries spilled onto the floor.

Upon seeing your coworker, Theo pushed past you both and ran out of the gallery. But you could care less, you just clung to Phoebe, trembling. “Y/N? What happened? Are you alright?”

You couldn’t speak. You could hardly catch your breath, on the brink of becoming hysterical. Phoebe took your hand and led you to a nearby chair. “I’m calling 911.” She reached into her purse for her phone when she stopped. “Do you want me to call your brother?”

“No!” you said in a panic. “Can you call his partner instead?” You gave Phoebe Rollins’ cell number. “Please tell her not to tell Sonny.” She nodded and dialed the number.

While your coworker talked to Amanda, you stood up and walked around the studio. Paints, brushes, easels all covered the floor. And then you saw it. The painting you had been working on for Rafael, in a crumpled head, completely destroyed. Just like everything else in the room. In a matter of minutes, your sanctuary had become a crime scene.

*****

Sonny scaled the steps of One Hogan Place, balancing two cups of coffee in his hands. He took his familiar route, mumbling to himself. Passerbys assumed he was on bluetooth, but in reality he was deep in concentration, trying to come up with the perfect opening line. Unfortunately, the only thing he could come up with was “Hi.”

After the disastrous lunch on Sunday, Sonny couldn’t stop thinking about what Bella had said. Maybe it was time to let go and take a chance. To put himself out there. As much as he hated to admit, you were happy with Barba. Maybe it was time for him to find his own happiness.

He stood in front of Barba’s office door, taking a moment to collect himself. His heart hammered in his chest. His palms were clammy. Although he had been to Barba’s office countless times, this time was for a completely different reason.

From the moment Sonny met Carmen, he was hooked. She was beautiful, smart, and unbelievably kind. Not to mention, she knew how to handle Barba. She made him feel at ease.

He never forgot when SVU had lost a big case, a rapist had been set free on a technicality. The squad and Barba had just broken the news to the survivor. She was only 14 and yet she had lived a lifetime. He would never forget the look on her face. In a way he felt completely responsible. If he had just tried harder, then they would have caught this monster.

That day Sonny was the last one to leave Barba’s office, feeling completely dejected. He thought of his sisters and his mother and how easily any of you could be a victim. He wondered if he was even cut out for this job. How many rapists would be set free during his career? How many victims would he have to disappoint?

It was then that Carmen approached him. “Hang in there.” She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a warm smile. “They need you, Sonny. You’re one of the good guys.” In that moment, Carmen made Sonny feel safe and comforted. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Now all he had to do was work up the nerve to ask her out on a date. “It’s now or never, Carisi,” he thought before opening the door. There she was. The woman of his dreams, sitting at her desk, furiously typing and completely oblivious to the fact that Sonny was right in front of her.

After several seconds, he cleared his throat and shouted, “Hey you!” Carmen jumped a mile high. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ya’.” Being a ball of nervous energy, it was not his intention to scream at the poor woman.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t paying attention.” Sonny nodded and rocked back on his heels, awkwardly standing in front of her. “Um, Mr. Barba is free, if you’d like to see him.”

“Actually. I’m here for you.” He handed over one of the cups of coffee in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Carmen graciously accepted the cup and took a sip. “I’ve been so busy working on these briefs that I haven’t had a chance to get any.”

Sonny beamed and began taking out of his pockets handfuls of assorted coffee creamers and sugar packets. “I...uh...I didn’t know how ya’ took your coffee so I got ya’ half n half, hazelnut, vanilla, soy milk, almond milk. I got sweet n’ low, regular sugar, sugar in the--”

“Thank you,” Carmen politely interrupted him and pushed all of the creamers and sugars now littering her desk off to the side. “That’s very sweet.”

Sonny turned beet red and took a sip of his coffee. Having been out of the dating game for so long, he was definitely rusty at this. “So...uh...I was just wonderin’ if maybe sometime--”

Just then Rafael burst out of his office. “Carmen, something’s come up and I have to leave. Please hold my calls and cancel all my meetings for today.” Before she could even reply, he brusquely walked past, bumping into Sonny and causing him to spill his coffee. Rafael shot daggers at him.

Sonny furrowed his brow in confusion, watching Rafael walk out the door. Although Rafael had certainly glared at him before, this time was different. If looks could kill, Sonny would be dead on the floor. “Wonder what that was about?” he mused.

Carmen shook her head. “Don’t know. But it must be bad. I hope everything’s ok.” She then noticed the spilled coffee on Sonny’s shirt and opened her drawer, pulling out a stain removing pen for clothes. “May I?” She walked over to Sonny and began to clean the coffee stain before it began to set.

Being that close to Carmen, Sonny felt weak in the knees. He lost himself in her warm brown eyes and the honeyed sweet scent of her orange blossom perfume. “Thanks,” he managed to squeak out.

“It’s no problem,” she said with a shy smile. “With the amount of coffee Mr. Barba drinks, I keep a stash of these at my desk. Just in case of an emergency.”

“So like I was saying earlier, I thought if you were free sometime that maybe you’d like to--”

Suddenly, a loud ring coming from his coat pocket cut him off. The universe was not working in his favor today. He pulled his phone out and saw Bella’s name flash across his screen. “Excuse me,” he told Carmen before answering the phone. “Hey Bella. Can I call ya’ back?”

Bella let out a sob in response and Sonny felt his stomach drop. “Bella? What’s wrong?”

“Sonny,” she managed to say through her tears. “You need to get to the precinct. Now. Something’s happened with Y/N.”

Tag List:

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firelxdykatara · 4 years ago

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kitty i can't wait for your thoughts of Shadow and Bone asdfasfaw

Ok well I just finished and I have so many fucking thoughts. Most good! Some, less so. Part of it may just be my bias because I’ve only read the Six of Crows duology and have little interest in actually reading the original trilogy, because I know how it ends and Leigh clearly hates me personally and doesn’t want me to be happy (/j), so I was already predisposed to be far more invested in the Crows and Darkling/Darklina segments (genuinely, the Mal/Malina scenes/storyline bored me to tears, and while I appreciate that the show went out of its way to change Mal’s character to make him much less of a toxic douchebag [I’ve read enough excerpts and explanations of his actions in the books to really loathe book!Malina], it isn’t enough to make me ship them when Darklina is right there), but I also don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the Crows absolutely stole the show.

It’s actually kind of funny, because I’d assumed they were only being so heavily marketed to hype the show up even more, since while there’s a lot of TGT/SoC fandom overlap they are also two fundamentally different genres and I’d wager there are a lot of people who are massive fans of one but not so enthused with the other, while remaining fairly insignificant to the overall plot. Turns out, they make up fully half of the show’s runtime (much to my delight). Which is part of what I think will help this series stand on its own, both as a book adaptation and simply as a fantasy TV series.

I’ll put more of my story-specific thoughts under a cut, so there’s lots of show spoilers to follow!

I know that a lot of early reviewers were saying that Alina’s motivations and storyline revolved too much around Mal, and that really held true for me. It made sense in the beginning--he was the only constant in her life, she was thrust into something new, terrifying, and completely unfamiliar, and they’d developed an unhealthy codependence as a coping mechanism for their childhoods and the traumas they faced, the lives they lead growing up in a war-torn country. But she started coming into her power, falling for the General--not just his power and charisma, but what she felt when she was with him. The way he helped her summon the sun, the way she felt free in a way she never had before.

Until it all went to shit--but the Darklina make-out scene in episode 5? Fucking iconic. Poetic fucking cinema. The way they were quite literally about to have sex on that wartable (and someone better write fic of that moment, what if they hadn’t gotten interrupted), and the General left, but then he ran back just to kiss her one more time... this is what OTPs are made of ok.

I think what really bothers me overall is that Alina ultimately lacked agency in her one storyline, pretty much the entire way through. She did make a few choices, but they were mostly incidental, and a lot of it was Alina desperately trying to get back to Mal rather than seizing her own power and destiny and running with it. The most prominent example is the end of episode 5--Alina is having happy make-outs and almost bones the General in his own war room, and then he leaves, and Baghra comes in and infodumps to her about how evil he is and how he’s only using her and she needs to escape.

I recognize that a lot of this is probably because that’s essentially what happened in the book and Leigh is an executive producer for the show so she has a lot of shot-calling power. However, I really think that even in the book this plotline would’ve been better-served by having Alina make these discoveries on her own.

For example, imagine that the letters which were used as framing devices for episodes 2 and 3 were vitally important to the plot, rather than being one-offs that are mentioned a few times but not really affecting much of anything. Alina begins to get suspicious when she doesn’t receive word from Mal, and she starts wondering if her letters are even reaching him--so she starts snooping. She finds ashes in the war room hearth, late at night,, and recognizes a fragment of Mal’s signature and larger piece of her own. She now knows that someone--possibly the General, but maybe that creepy priest guy, or someone else in the palace--is keeping her and Mal from contacting one another. So she starts snooping around even more. She asks the General leading questions, trying to figure out what the truth is of his intentions. She still feels this pull--this connection to him, and she hopes she’s wrong, but she’s not willing to just sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop.

The Winter Fete still happens, she still gets the hot make-out session with the General, and then when he’s called away, she snoops through his papers, looking for anything that can tell her the truth. She finds a hidden compartment filled with journals.

She reads about Aleksander’s past (and, incidentally, wasn’t that supposed to be a huge moment in the books, him revealing his true name to her in private? kinda wish it had been kept that way in the show but who knows where they’ll go with it in the future)--that leads to the flashbacks in episode 6. She feels for him, but she also reads further--she gets a firsthand look at his desire for power, something that began as a noble desire to save his people, but was twisted by a lust for vengeance (for his lost love and all the Grisha who were killed) and shot through with greed, the realization that if he found the Sun Summoner he could control the Fold, rather than just destroy it. He could create a new world where Grisha could live without fear--where Grisha could rule.

Alina is terrified. Whoever the General used to be--whatever humanity she saw flickering in his eyes, the way his heart fluttered when they kissed--she can’t trust that it’ll be enough to save her from plans centuries in the making. So she goes to Baghra, the woman who helped her discover her power, learn to channel it--the woman who always seemed to know much more than she ever let on. Baghra gives her side of the story--Alina got it from the General’s perspective first, now Baghra is telling her something framed much differently. She isn’t sure what or who to trust, but she knows that Baghra seems willing to help her escape--but rather than trusting her ‘loyal Grisha’, she makes the choice she made in the show, to choose the other path, and winds up with the Crows.

Idk how Mal and the Stag thing would fit into this (if it isn’t obvious by now, Mal just... doesn’t interest me), but Alina’s story and her character arc would be so much stronger for it. And she’s supposed to be the central character, so her story being weak and her agency so frequently being compromised ultimately hurts the show as a whole.

I know I’ve gone on and on about Alina and the Darkling (look, I’m a slut for enemies-to-lovers, and also lovers-to-enemies-and-back, so Darklina and Helnik are where so much of my investment is rooted--plus Kanej, but that almost goes without saying), but the true standouts of the series were the Crows. Inej, Kaz, and Jesper, and Nina and Matthias in their episodes, stole the show (along with the Darkling, Ben is far and away the best actor in the cast and I love that for him, but Freddy, Amita, and Kit are also amazing, and Danielle&Calahan were fucking phenomenal as Nina and Matthias--I do have to say, though, that the whole cast is really solid and has amazing chemistry).

They worked together so perfectly--Freddy and Amita communicated so much with their eyes alone, especially together, and a whole lot of their relationship dynamic is rooted in how they exist together, which really came through. The show altered the Crows timeline considerably (I’m pretty sure Kaz would’ve been 14 during the original trilogy lol), so Inej is still at the Menagerie, but things like Kaz putting up the Crow Club for Inej’s freedom, the way Kaz needed her but could never bring himself to say it (until the end of the season dklhfgdkjfgh i SCREAMED)--the way Jesper played off the both of them, and it’s so obvious they all love each other even though they’re criminals and thieves and murderers, and Kaz would never admit it (out loud--which actually feeds into my theory that his love language is acts of service; Kaz does things for the people he cares about, he never announces it and he will almost always try to downplay it, but the way you know he cares is if, for example, he puts his entire life, everything he built, up as collateral for your freedom), but they’re a family.

One thing that I was kind of iffy about was Inej’s refusal to kill--but I thought it might be something they were planning to work into her overall character arc, and they did. It was the one line she hadn’t crossed--in the books, I’d imagine that it took a while for Inej to wind up at that point, being willing to kill on top of everything else. So I actually like that they worked that into the Crows plotline, and Inej killing for the first time was to save Kaz’s life.

Just like Kaz’s first selfless act was to save her.

(He’d deny it, of course. He protects his investments. He needed her for the job. But the truth is, he did it for her. And he’d do it again. Even if he’d never admit it.)

Meanwhile, Nina and Matthias’ storyline was pretty much note-for-note according to their backstory as it was revealed in Six of Crows, and I loved every second of it. Their chemistry was perfect, their journey from enemies to begrudging allies to friends to maybe something more (Matthias’ stomach cockblocking them when they were about to kiss had me fucking SCREAMING AT THE TV, and then of course the whole ‘betraying him to save him’ thing happened and I sobbed), and then suddenly right back to enemies.

Because from Matthias’ perspective, he trusted a witch--believed in her, liked her, wanted her--and she turned on him. He has no idea that she wasn’t the one who knocked him out in the first place, and no reason to believe her, because as far as he knows, she just confirmed everything he’d ever been told about Grisha. That they are deceitful and treacherous, would turn on you as soon as look at you, that they are dangerous and not to be trusted. It wasn’t revealed in-show but I imagine Matthias’ backstory is largely the same, which means that his entire family was slaughtered by Grisha when he was a young boy, and then he was turned into a brainwashed child soldier by the witch hunters and never knew anything else.

They are perfectly primed for their SoC arc next season and I, for one, am so stoked to see the rest of their journey. And if I slip Netflix a couple twenties, maybe they’ll let Helnik have a happy ending please please please.

Anyway, yeah! I have a lot of thoughts but things are still percolating in my head so I’ll probably float around the tags for a bit and let things settle. This is just a preliminary overview of my thoughts in the immediate aftermath of bingeing the entire show in one night kldfjghdkjfhgkjgf

EDIT TO ADD: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THE TRUE STAR OF THE SHOW, M I L O

MILO BEST BOY. MILO THE MVP. MILO DESERVES ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD AND I HOPE HE LIVES A HAPPY AND HEALTHY AND FULL LITTLE GOAT LIFE.

#shadow and bone #kanej #helnik #darklina #sab spoilers #alina starkov #the darkling #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #malina salt #asked #cobraonthecob

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harryandmolly · 4 years ago

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fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *5*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, NSFW (unprotected sex), The Reckoning pt. 1 (this warning brought to you by Georgie Kingston)

wc: 4.7k

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“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. I mean… wow.”

“I know, right?”

Shawn and Lilly are sitting up in Lilly’s bed, her sheets pooled around their naked hips. Her phone sits between them, glowing the only light in the room. Her home screen is a picture of Lauren dressed as the Statue of Liberty from Halloween in college.

At first when Lilly checked the time, she was sure it said 5:04 PM. But given the time of year, it was too dark for that to be true. Shawn stirred and they inspected it together, equally bewildered.

5:04 AM. They slept for a clean 14 hours. By the way they each stretch and groan, neither of them moved a muscle the whole time. Lilly feels like she’s at the brink of atrophy, with a comfortable soreness between her legs.

She looks over at Shawn. He’s bleary-eyed, extra flushed from all the body heat they produce in the same bed together, with pillow marks on his cheeks and chest. Lilly has a mark across her side from the weight of his arm. It’s like they’ve been asleep for years.

Lilly lets her phone screen go dark. Dawn isn’t coming for a while. They’re alone. Their breathing syncs. Shawn yawns. Lilly follows. The quiet aches.

She reaches over to her nightstand and flicks on the lamp. The orange glow is made warmer than usual with his big brown eyes watching her. It’s different, though, than it has been. He’s not watching her like one of them is impersonating a dog in an ASPCA commercial. It’s curious and gentle, but there’s a confidence there, too. It seems she’s missed it.

“Hello there,” she sighs, coming down onto one folded arm on her side. He follows, mirroring her.

“Hi.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, looking him over. He squirms a little under her gaze.

“Thanks for shaving the gross facial hair.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “No problem. My mum made it pretty clear that she was going to ask me to shave it every time I FaceTimed her, so it was just delaying the inevitable.”

Lilly’s brows lift. “Did you like the gross facial hair?”

Shawn chuckles. “No. I guess I was just curious. I don’t really get to try shit like that most of the time. So.”

She nods, continuing her inspection, as though she hasn’t looked at him in the weeks they’ve been in Mandeville Canyon together. She doesn’t comment on his weight or the pallor of his skin. She has no business, given the way she’s been treating her own body. She internalizes it and moves on.

Timidly, she lifts her hand through his hair. His eyes flutter shut, he nuzzles into it automatically. She feels that ache between her thighs again, more prominently this time.

“But about the hair… maybe I should cut it. If you want me to.”

Shawn’s eyes brighten. “I didn’t know you could cut hair.”

“Oh, I can’t. I mean, I haven’t yet. But I’ll watch a video, we’ll be fine.”

He hesitates only for a moment, surprising her. “Ok. Yeah. It’s probably time.”

Lilly feels an odd sensation getting out of that bed and it can’t be blamed on low blood sugar or dehydration. The writer in her feels a scene ending when Shawn pulls himself up and walks into her shower, leaving the door open when he turns on the water and inspects his hair in the mirror, along with a couple of zits. The finality is an illusion, because life isn’t so neatly told like a screenplay. Even though she feels the scene is over, she has to stand up and find a clean pair of panties and think of some search terms to find a useful hair cutting tutorial on YouTube. There’s another scene and she doesn’t know what it is yet. She doesn’t even know what she wants it to be. But there’s putting the laptop down and walking away. There’s no stopping it.

Lilly wanders into the kitchen in panties and a tank top, too preoccupied to notice the utility scissors when she opens drawers looking for them. His footsteps are house-shakingly loud as they carry him from her side of the house to neutral ground. He arrives with a towel around his waist. His hair looks even more like sad limp noodles when it’s wet. He stops in the doorway, watching her. He waits until she pulls a chair into the empty space between the breakfast table and the island, under a bright cluster of lights. He takes the invitation to sit.

He even smells warm, somehow. Lilly’s urge to lick up the rivulets of tepid water coasting over the mountains and valleys of his back is disorienting.

They watch the tutorial together on her phone. It seems a small concession to make, given what he’s putting her in charge of. He doesn’t have any specific direction to give her beyond longer on top, shorter on the sides. So she goes hunting for some inspiration.

You would think she would know better than to dive into the “Shawn Mendes” tag on Tumblr. The seizing half-hiccup, half-pseudo stroke sensation she gets from accidentally coming upon a hoard of pictures of them together is back. Lilly blames a recent lack of exposure for the completely noticeable, pity-inducing reaction. Her callous has softened. After an awkward few seconds, she pivots to Google.

“I think we’re going for… like… February 2019 hair. That was really good hair,” Lilly insists, plowing ahead, gesturing to photos of him on the red carpet at the 2019 Brit Awards.

“Yeah,” Shawn replies, “That was good hair. Maybe a little longer on the sides though. I liked what I had going, like, before quarantine.”

Lilly grumbles something under her breath about googling photos of that era over her dead body. Shawn relents.

“It’s fine, you should cut it-- just cut it however. It’s fine.”

Lilly begins by balling up a little tuft from the top of his head into a teeny bun. She stands between his legs to arrange it, making sure it’s even on both sides. His eyes remain on his feet the whole time.

She starts at the back of his neck, smoothing his curls out to decide how much to trim. Her fingers are more helpful than the comb, she soon realizes, in keeping them flat enough to judge. She begins by cutting it shorter at the base of his neck so the short curls can do the sproing thing she likes. As she moves up the back of his scalp, she leaves it longer until she hits his funny little man bun. When the silence breaks, she’s so jarred she has to ask him to repeat himself.

“I…” he clears his throat, “I think it’s time that you ask me some of those questions.”

Lilly hates that she knows him so well she doesn’t have to ask which ones. She fluffs out the back of his head with her fingers and decides it’s not completely tragic, so she moves onto his left side.

There are considerations, of course. Is her stuff in a state that she could easily pack and bail in a short time frame if he reveals himself to be dumber than originally feared? Is digging up old dirt to toss it over a wound that won’t heal really necessary?

Is it a good idea to have this conversation while she’s wielding something that could easily be used as a deadly weapon?

Lilly takes a long moment to blink and sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, eyeing the way his hair wraps over the tip of his ear. She brushes it with the pad of her thumb. It reddens.

There’s a preamble in her head, one that lectures him about the absolute necessity of honesty in this situation, the futility of the exercise if he’s not willing to be completely transparent. When she notes the way his knee bobs anxiously, she stops it in its frilly-worded tracks.

She pulls curls off the side of his neck, right over the freckles she likes, and snips.

“When did it start?”

Shawn doesn’t shrink or react in any noticeable way. This isn’t a surprising question.

“I started feeling it when we were in working on Senorita. We weren’t really talking much before that. We started texting a little. It was the first time I felt anything for her since you and me started.”

Lilly sections off the hair above his ear and starts to feel herself working slower. She remembers the first time she heard about the idea of the Senorita collab when he told her over the phone. He sounded tired. Lilly was enthusiastic, knowing he and Camila had been closer before Lilly was in the picture. She felt some guilt for driving some kind of wedge between them, however unintentional. The collab seemed like a nice way to reconnect with a friend.

“The music video.”

Lilly doesn’t phrase it as a question. She doesn’t need to.

“That was when things came more… into focus. She and her ex were in the process of breaking up. I didn’t know for sure then what was going to happen. But it was the first time I thought something actually might.”

Lilly focuses on the way his hair sits above his ear, debating about how short to cut it. She recalls FaceTiming with him from rehearsals. He was so excited. He was nervous about dancing. Lilly teased him. He reminded her repeatedly that he loved her. She wonders if it was more for him to hear out loud than it was for her.

“What exactly happened between you before you broke up with me?”

Shawn flinches slightly. Lilly feels the sick pleasure of it sizzling in her fingers, imagines a tick arriving with a satisfying ping in her nonexistent column.

Shawn takes a deep breath. “It was… at one of the viewing things before the final cut of the video. We got drunk.”

Lilly’s heart slams in her chest like a fish out of water. This was a mistake.

“I knew she and Matthew were done but I asked anyway. We were… we were the last ones there and just fucking around, being goofy. I kissed her.”

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Shawn doesn’t ask to look at whether she’s defacing one of his calling cards.

“Anything else?” Lilly asks coolly, wondering if a fuck might’ve actually felt like less of a soul-deep betrayal. Doesn’t matter, probably. She still lost him.

“Not until after.”

Lilly systematically strokes her fingers through his hair as she switches over, angling to determine if the sides are even. Her stomach hurts.

“Did you tell her you were going to leave me before you did?”

She watches him swallow.

“Yes.”

Lilly remembers the image she had of her sitting in the back of a dark Uber Black, hunched over her phone, waiting outside Lilly’s house for the deed to be done.

The questions are sprouting faster than Lilly can come up with a strategy for dealing with them. She takes a weed whacker to her mind unsuccessfully.

“What did she-- how did she--”

Lilly stalls out and drops her scissored hand by her side. Shawn looks over at her patiently. He doesn’t cower or turn away or guilt her out of this line of questioning with a glance.

Lilly shakes her head and waves her not-sharp hand for him to turn his head back. She gets to work evening out the sides, pinching his strawberry-scented ringlets, making a focused effort not to yank at them.

“All the pictures… the paps, whatever. Did you consider what that would do to me?”

Shawn keeps his head forward, eyes fixed on the refrigerator at the other side of the room. He wets his lips and speaks, “I… didn’t really let myself focus on it. I told myself it wasn’t really my fault, I wasn’t the one calling them and doing all that shit we did in the beginning. I told myself it wasn’t about me and Camila, it was about the single, so anything we did to promote the single was ok.”

“That was a very long-winded no.” Lilly keeps her voice even.

“There’s so much I did that I handled completely fucking wrong. We, I mean you and I, we were hitting this point, this weird, shitty point where we were both really busy and couldn’t be around each other that much. It had been over a year and the, like, giddiness wasn’t there at the time. Like, neither of us was that happy then.”

Lilly’s nostrils flare. Her lips purse and begin to part, ready to unleash hell.

“I used it as a shitty fucking excuse for something I was probably going to do anyway.”

Lilly takes a step back. She drops the scissors beside him and crosses her arms, staring expectantly. Shawn takes the scissors and fiddles with them.

“The honest, stupid fucking truth is that I had this… I dunno, this thing for her. I could never totally let go of it. That’s not to say I wasn’t happy with you, or that I was thinking about her when I was with you… that was never it. But when she started showing interest in me, when she was telling me about the shit with Matthew, I just… I think I felt like it had to happen. Like something I had to get out of my system. I romanticized it at the time; it felt like fate, maybe.”

“I’ve heard the song, Shawn,” Lilly snaps. Shawn blinks hard, but is otherwise still.

“I know. I know you, Lill, I know you’ve been through the whole catalogue, tearing it apart, deciding what was about her.”

He’s not wrong, Lilly thinks bitterly.

“I felt this weird kind of instant relief when I was sure she wanted me. It checked this old box that felt like it was going to stay unchecked forever. I felt so shitty, calling it off with you, but it felt like I was doing what I was supposed to. But it wouldn’t have felt so shitty if it were really what I was meant to do.”

“Do you realize how entitled and selfish you sound right now?”

“Yes.”

The tightness in Lilly’s face relaxes, her expression blank. She wasn’t expecting such an easy response. She wasn’t expecting a real response at all.

“I do. It’s ok if you don’t believe me, I don’t really blame you. I haven’t given you any reason to. But if we have a shot in hell, and fuck, I hope we do, I think you need to hear this. I don’t think you’ll ever stop wondering unless I really lay it all out.”

Lilly swallows a lump in her throat and releases the tuft of hair, sliding the elastic back on her wrist. As she ruffles through his damp hair, Shawn’s eyes slide closed.

“Keep talking,” Lilly whispers.

“So I did it. I ignored how fucking bad I felt after that initial relief. Like, not just bad because of our fight, just… bad. I had done the wrong thing. I made the wrong choice. I do still think it was the choice I was going to make because I’m fucking young and stupid. I just--”

His jaw tenses, the muscle in his cheek twitching. Lilly waits patiently, parting his hair.

“I might’ve always wondered. I’m a hopeless romantic idiot. But at least now she’s not the one that got away anymore. She’s the one I tried it with and realized it didn’t work.”

Lilly closes her eyes and exhales through her nose. She waits for the words to hit all the spots they did before when he tried to talk this out with her, the pain points. Spots that made her snarl and retch and wail and slash at him. Instead they feel like a rising tide around her knees.

“So… what happened?” she whispers.

“For a while we lived on the high of the single. Both our teams were so focused on it and on us. The VMAs and everything, finishing tour. By the time the Grammys came around I think we were both so fucking sick of that song. The backlash that came from all the media attention… it didn’t just go away like we hoped it would. I started laying really low on social. She was getting ready for tour and I was working on the album. Not being focused on the same thing, on promoting one song, it helped put things more into perspective I think. Pulling away started to feel… natural.

“And then the pandemic came. It felt like a time to hit reset. I went down to Miami and felt pretty stupid because everything just got so much worse every day and I was worried about not even being able to leave. But… we were on the same page, basically. It wasn’t fun, but it was… right. Neither of us wanted it. We tried it, it ended. I think… I mean, we don’t hate each other. I don’t think we’ll be like, writing friends again. But maybe eventually we’ll talk again.”

Lilly sucks at her front teeth. “You haven’t talked at all since you left?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

Shawn looks thoughtful. “Not… yet. I don’t think I have anything to say that we haven’t said already. Maybe… I dunno, maybe that was part of it. I always felt like I wanted to talk to you, like I always had stuff to tell you, even stupid stuff. Me and Camila ran out of stuff.”

Lilly shifts to stand in front of him, keeping her gaze on his hair, though her eyes are not in focus. She sifts her hands through it while she thinks.

“I still have more questions. I’m just…”

She trails off. Shawn nods carefully.

“It’s ok. I’m… not going anywhere.”

Lilly’s eyes shut. “I think it’s important for you to understand that when you say things like that, my head immediately comes back with “but you did.” You did go somewhere. You didn’t come back for a long time.”

Shawn pauses, then nods again. Lilly sighs.

“I’m not saying this to punish you anymore. I don’t want that. It’s not doing anything for me. But you need to understand that I can’t just turn it back on. Even when you make me want to.”

Shawn’s expression clears. He turns his head slowly as she continues ruffling his hair, snipping odds and ends. She doesn’t look down at him.

“I do understand. I’ll wait, Lill. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“And what if I don’t know what I need?”

Shawn looks unconcerned. “Then I’ll wait for you to.”

Lilly continues sculpting his hair like a topiary. He looks older with his hair this way. She thinks it’s not a total disaster, maybe.

“I have another question,” she announces. Shawn waits expectantly.

“If the pandemic didn’t happen… when were you going to end it? When were you going to come to me?”

Shawn’s brows raise, but he looks far away again. “Truth is I almost did a few times. A bunch of times after the holidays. I had this countdown clock in my head because I knew as soon as we finished the album, I wouldn’t just be able to spontaneously come see you, not if I wanted to spend any real time with you. I just kept scaring myself out of it.”

She understands that, especially given the way their first meeting went down.

Lilly internalizes the answer, then turns back to her imaginary notes. Each question has a line through it. Nothing new materializes. She frowns.

“I don’t have any more questions.”

Shawn bobs his head, watching her closely.

“I might have more questions later,” she continues. His expression doesn’t change.

Lilly drops her hands to his shoulders. He blinks but reorients himself, slowly guiding his hands to her hips. She steps closer. His knees widen. As Lilly folds herself over him, pressing her face into his hair, he collapses into her, his forehead against her sternum. Her relief is narcotic. Her head hasn’t been this truly empty since… she can’t remember when.

He smells like her. He’s holding her. He’s breathing her air. He’s hers. Little by little, she’s starting to believe it.

Lilly steps around his legs and lowers into his lap. Their eyes are nearly level. Shawn locks his arms around her back. His nose brushes hers.

“Ok,” Lilly murmurs.

Shawn inhales and exhales deeply. “Ok.”

Lilly’s hands rest on his chest as he kisses her. He doesn’t come at her with fire and brimstone this time. He has nothing to prove. He knows exactly how good it feels. He seems to want to slow down and enjoy this as much as she does. He kisses her long and slow because they have the time. His hands remain mostly still. He seems to feel that she needs the stasis, despite their frenzied night.

Shawn’s kisses whisper to Lilly with each pass -- is this ok? How about this? I don’t want to push it. I care too much to push it. They’re the easiest sentiments to believe when they’re said like this.

Lilly drapes her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the breadth of them, plucking her lips away in shorter bursts until they’re pecking innocently, smiling with closed eyes between points of contact.

“Do you want to check out your hair?” Lilly offers, shifting back in his lap. He’s the most marvelous shade of pink.

“Oh,” he starts, pulling a hand up into the still damp chunky strands, “I can look later. I’m sure it’s great. It feels way lighter, actually.”

Lilly is smug. “You just want to sit here and keep kissing.” His smile is megawatt. She’s blinded.

“Can you blame me?”

Kissing him is… completely lovely. Lilly refamiliarizes herself with him in a way she didn’t yesterday. Her fingers find the tendons in his shoulders, the ridge of his adam’s apple, the little hoop in his earlobe. It’s a redundant kind of flirtation, given that she’s already in his lap, but it might be more for her than for him.

His lips skate down her neck as they break for air. He tucks kisses under her hair over marks she doesn’t remember him leaving. Lilly closes her eyes and exhales slowly, letting herself hate them a little for tearing each other to shreds. It wasn’t like them. Even when they were at their most frantic together, it wasn’t like that.

Lilly feels a lump in her throat. He must sense the change in her breathing. But instead of pulling away to check on her, Shawn pulls her closer, fills all the spaces her body leaves until she’s cradled against him, chest shuddering. He presses his nose into her hair and rocks her softly, back and forth, until he feels her tears dripping off his shoulder down his bare back.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs, the vibration from his voice tremoring through her body, “If it feels good to cry, you should cry.”

Shawn has a way of saying things to her that would bring her no relief to hear them from anyone else. Even though she believes him, and she’s pretty sure he’d sit here into the night and let her cry herself dry against him, she pulls back. He looks her over. She stares at his swollen mouth. He sweeps his thumbs beneath her eyes.

“I’m sick of crying,” she tells him with a short nod. He nods back. His eyes are clear and so warm. His hands sift back into her hair and hold it all, scrunching tumbling, escaping strands like he can’t bear to let any of her go. He kisses her breathless.

“Be gentle with me,” Lilly pleads on a sigh, releasing him only long enough to undress. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

He’s always been patient, even when she could barely stand to let herself be touched by him. He waits until every sound out of her chest is nearly a whine and her fingers curl into his freshly cut hair, cajoling him. When their bodies finally connect, he’s slow and deliberate, the tips of their noses together, their fingers clenched together against her thigh. She doesn’t thrash or force or scrape for him. He doesn’t stop until she’s melted for him, draped over his shoulder, panting with need. She clings, he gives. When she’s finished, she cups the back of his neck and whispers until he’s shaking beneath her.

They slither to the kitchen floor, exhausted, reluctant. He tosses tufts of his shorn hair at her. She pretends to put it back where she cut it off. They order from a local cafe for breakfast and kiss until the food is cold.

“So when do you want me to cut your hair?”

Lilly looks up from the Instacart order in progress on her phone. His arm is around her shoulders, his fingers sifting through the dry ends of her gold hair. He said it like he’s reminding her of something she had already asked of him. Her brow furrows.

“You’re not cutting my hair.”

Shawn looks down and mirrors her expression. “What?”

“I’m not letting you cut my hair, Shawn.”

He gawps. “But you just cut mine!”

“Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking? Your hair is like half the reason people like you.”

Shawn’s eyes light up. His grin is so big she thinks his face is gonna split. This time, she’s the one mirroring him.

“You seriously don’t trust me to cut your hair? It can’t be that hard, your hair is straight. I just have to keep it even.”

“But I have layers,” Lilly explains patiently, turning to pull her legs up beside her on the couch, “And my stylist uses thinning shears, which we don’t have. And also… you’re not cutting my hair, Shawn.”

He huffs and pulls away. “Maybe not when you’re awake anyway.”

Lilly looks up from her phone. He’s wearing an impish smile. She kisses it until his lips are soft and pliable against hers, and he’s making the little content sounds she likes.

Shawn gets curious and trails his kisses off down her jaw. Lilly’s eyes are shut. She’s getting ready to crawl into his lap for the third time in 24 hours when her phone buzzes with a news alert.

LA County extended shutdown to all but essential business through July.

They stare at the phone together. Shawn’s brows lift. He rubs a hand over his mouth.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

Lilly chews her lip. July?

July.

Quietly, because they’re both in their own heads, they make their way to the kitchen to continue taking stock of the groceries they have and what they need. Lilly’s head is swimming in numbers -- will the bump in unemployment continue? Is she going to have to ask for her parents’ help with rent? Could this go through the end of the summer, or even longer?

She senses him behind her even through the haze of her own anxiety. He places a hand on her hip, his thumb rubbing the worn cotton of her t-shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, more as a request than a demand. Lilly turns and tucks herself into his arms. He rocks her back and forth on their bare feet, which make a soft smushing sound against the cool tile. He’s sturdy enough to rest her weight against. Her hands clamor up only as far as his shoulder blades. It feels good.

“I know it’s really, really bad,” Shawn says into her ear, “Like, really bad, if they’re shutting down through July. But… I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Lilly rolls her eyes and lifts her head as her hands drift down his back.

“Yeah, seems like your plan is working out nicely. Taking me hostage, and all.”

He seems pleased with her teasing. He nods.

“Yep, got ya right where I want ya,” he admits, shrugging.

Lilly shakes her head and dives deeper into false dramatics. “Luring me here in my vulnerable state. You’re like Dracula. This is Stockholm syndrome. I should know, there’s a One Direction song about it. You’re holding me here against my will.”

Shawn grins again, that same face-breaking grin from before. It warms Lilly through more than the afternoon sun streaming in through the kitchen windows. He presses his forehead against hers.

“Your hands are on my asscheeks right now,” he points out.

She squeezes them. He flinches and somehow smiles even wider.

“Stockholm. Syndrome,” she insists, giggling until his lips meet hers again.

----------

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fanficshiddles · 4 years ago

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Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 14

Esme whimpered as her fifth and final Alpha took her for that evening.

David’s cock was thrusting into her roughly on the sofa, his balls slapping against her with every thrust. He was snarling and growling above her, now and then he leaned down to suck and nibble on her neck.

She squeezed Tom’s hands when David thrust deep into her, stilling, so his knot could start to swell within her to lock them together.

‘That’s a good girl.’ Tom purred. He had her head on his lap while he held her hands, reassuring her as each of the four Alphas took their turn with her after Tom having her first.

It was well into the evening because of how long it was taking their knots to go down. But they each made sure they got deep, hoping that their sperm would be the one to reach her eggs. Not that they would ever know who’s won anyway in the end.

She felt well used, her cunt was dripping wet from their sperm and her own arousal. David slipped his hands down under her bum and he raised her up against him more, lodging his cock a bit further into her.

Esme whimpered as his knot throbbed against her g-spot, making her cum around him multiple times, milking everything out of him.

‘How does she feel?’ Tom asked David.

‘Fucking amazing.’ David panted, his mind had shut down and he could barely think straight.

Tom chuckled and let go of one of her hands so he could smooth her hair back from her sweaty forehead, smiling sweetly down at her.

He had hardened too, and since he was still naked his cock was now standing up and proud. Something she had been trying to ignore, which wasn’t easy considering its magnificent presence was right against her cheek.

Tom gently took hold of her hair and turned her face in towards his cock, brushing against her lips.

‘Open your mouth for me, lovely.’ He demanded softly.

She parted her lips and started suckling on his cock, he lifted her head up further so she could get his tip into her mouth.

‘Ohhh that’s a good girl.’ Tom purred, his eyes fluttering as her warm mouth took him in.

He had her suck him softly until David was finished and pulled out from her, then Tom took another turn. He propped her head up with a cushion before taking his rightful place between her open legs. She didn’t put up a fuss when he pushed into her again, she preferred that to sucking him anyway.

When Tom was finished with her, she was completely exhausted. She couldn’t even move. Tom gathered her legs together and lifted them up high, lifting her hips up enough so any sperm would remain deep inside her.

He kept her like that for a while, but she was too tired to even care or feel embarrassed about it.

Ben came and carried her through to bed once Tom had deemed it ok to do so. Instead of washing her in the bath, he lay her down on the bed with a towel under her and got a washcloth and basin to clean her up on the outside. He wasn’t going to interfere on the inside yet, give all the sperm time to do its magic.

‘I… I don’t know how much I can take.’ She said quietly, trying not to cry as she curled up into a ball on her side once Ben was finished with her.

Ben moved up the bed and sat down, stroking her hair. ‘Ooooh, sweetie. This is just the start… Hmm? Wait until you come into heat soon, then you will be the one that can’t keep your hands off of us.’ Ben chuckled softly.

He smoothed his hand down her side. ‘Do you not enjoy it, the orgasms we bring you? It certainly feels like you do when you cum all over our cocks.’ He smirked at the way she blushed.

‘It… it’s tiring. All of it.’ She whispered.

‘Shhh, shhh. Have some rest now. Let your body do its thing.’ He cooed and pulled the blanket up over her.

Esme snuggled down and closed her eyes, but she heard Ben leaving the room before she drifted off to sleep. She was rather glad in a way, to get some peace alone to sleep.

Ben went to join the other Alphas for a beer. They’d all put on trousers to cover up a bit. Now the testosterone had calmed and they’d all had their fill of their omega.

‘She’s a free for all now we’ve all had our fair share of her.’ Tom said as he swigged down his beer. ‘When she comes into heat, she will likely be on us all the time anyway. We might need to up the ante a bit to tire her out.’ He chuckled. ‘Just no more fighting on front of her. Share her and play nicely, but don’t hurt her unless it’s a punishment.’

The rest of them murmured in agreement.

‘I’d be surprised if she’s not pregnant already after all that.’ David said.

‘I certainly hope so. We have a waiting list of buyers already.’ Michael said as he flicked through the channels on TV.

‘Will you just pick something.’ Ben grumbled.

‘Do we really have a waiting list?’ Chris looked to Tom.

‘We certainly do. Our little omega is going to need to be continuously pregnant to keep up with demand.’ Tom chuckled. ‘So you boys better not ware yourselves out too quickly making the first one.’

‘Never mind making babies, I am going to have a lot of fun with our omega.’ David grinned.

All five Alphas crawled into the large bed with Esme that night once they went to bed. She stirred slightly when David wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him in the middle of the bed, Chris snuggled up at her front, draping his arm over her.

Tom, Michael and Ben had to make do with not getting close to her for the night. But they decided they would all take turns, make sure they all got a chance to sleep right next to her at nights.

During the night, Esme woke up needing the toilet. But she had five Alphas to get away from.

First, she had to squirm out of David’s tight grip, he was hugging her close like a bear. She managed to get Chris’ arm off her too, draping it over David instead. David then put his arms around Chris, thinking it was Esme.

She then had to climb over Tom, which felt like she was going to have to climb over a lion. She was starting to think she should’ve gone the other way, climbing over Michael and Ben instead.

Esme had her hands and upper body over Tom, she was just swinging her leg over him when he suddenly grabbed her. She let out a shriek as he pinned her down beneath him, he chuckled.

‘Where do you think you’re going, little omega?’ He hummed, trailing his fingers down the side of her face.

‘Just the bathroom.’ She said quietly.

‘Hmmm, be quick.’ Tom moved to the side, allowing her to slip out of bed.

When she returned, Tom was sitting up on the side of the bed. He motioned her to him, when she walked over and was within reach, he opened his legs and pulled her between them. He slipped his arms around her and grinned.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out, they were disturbed. David and Chris yelled when they woke and saw they were snuggling one another. Chris pushed David away from him, who knocked into Michael who then knocked into Ben as a chain reaction, poor Ben fell out of bed and to the floor with a thud.

Tom threw his head back with laughter and even Esme started laughing, seeing it all happen over Tom’s shoulder.

‘You idiots... Get used to it, I am not getting a bigger bed.’ Tom grumbled, shaking his head.

Ben grumbled in annoyance and smacked Michael when he clambered back onto the bed. ‘Wasn’t my fault.’ Michael huffed.

‘Everyone back to sleep. It’s only two.’ Tom growled and wrapped his arms tightly around Esme as he lay down, rolling her over so she was between him and Chris this time.

Esme was just getting settled when she felt Tom’s hands starting to wander. One hand slipped under her nightgown and he trailed right up, to gently massage at her breasts. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and growled low.

‘Soon you will be ripe with our child… and these, will be full for us to have so much fun with.’ He whispered, his thumb brushing across her nipple that made her whine.

She tried squirming and pushing his hand away, but he didn’t budge. He fell asleep groping her breast, so she had to make do with it as she fell asleep again too. She was just glad he didn’t try anything more with her, so she could rest.

But she didn’t have much luck in the morning. She woke to Chris’ hand down her knickers, fingering her softly. While Tom had pulled her nightie off and was sucking on her nipples, the other three Alphas were watching intently.

Whimpering, she tried to move away, but when she moved away from Tom she inadvertently moved closer to Chris and vice versa.

‘Please… Not just now.’ She whispered as she tried pushing them both away and attempted to sit up.

But Tom wasn’t having any of it. He wrapped his hand around the front of her neck and pushed her back down on the bed. Chris leaned up out of the way.

‘Omegas obey their Alpha.’ Tom growled low. ‘You do not push us away. Ever.’

Esme’s eyes were wide as she swallowed hard. She felt scared, but also disappointed with herself that she was being told off by her Alpha. She didn’t want that.

‘Now tell me, what do omegas do?’ Tom asked firmly, his hand still with enough pressure on her neck to keep her lying down.

‘They… they obey their Alpha.’ She whispered, shaking a little as Tom started stroking his thumb up and down the side of her neck.

‘That’s right, lovely. And what do they never say to their Alpha?’

‘N… No.’

‘Good girl.’ Tom purred and slid his hand down her chest, down between her breasts. ‘But there are consequences for your actions. Something you need to learn.’

Esme felt dread rush through her. She squeaked in fear when Tom flipped her over so easily onto her stomach. His hand returned to her neck, this time holding her down at the back with her face shoved into the pillow.

He ripped her knickers off and she screamed into the pillow when she then felt Tom’s hand come down hard on her backside.

The other Alphas watched intently. Their inner Alpha didn’t like the fact another was hurting their omega, it was against their instinct not to attack Tom. Smelling Esme’s pain and fear scent as it filled the room… But they all knew it could be turned on any of them in the future if they were to dish out her punishment, knowing they would be aroused if they were the ones turning her bum a lovely shade of red.

Even Tom felt a very slight pang of guilt when he heard her crying, but he knew she needed to learn. And he had a feeling she would only ever need this one punishment.

After delivering eight harsh swats, Tom stopped and gently stroked her bum. He let go of her neck, but she didn’t look up. She was too sore and upset to do so. In shock.

Tom breathed out deeply and glanced to the others. He could see the murderous look in their eyes, he smirked, knowing they’d do the same if need be. And that he would feel the same as they do if it was someone else spanking her.

‘Michael, Ben, work soon.’ He then looked to David and Chris. ‘Look after her.’

They nodded in response.

Tom smoothed his hand down Esme’s back and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. ‘Be a good girl for them.’ He whispered before heading off to get ready.

David moved across the bed to Esme, while Chris went off to get dressed too. He stroked through her hair for a moment, then disappeared into the bathroom. But he was back in seconds. Esme still didn’t look up, but David heard small sniffles coming from her as her bum still stung.

She squeaked in surprise when she felt cooling cream land on her bum. David then rubbed it in gently as he sat down on the side of the bed next to her.

‘There we go, poppet. This will help to ease the heat and sting.’ He said softly.

After it was rubbed in well, she could already feel it cooling her skin down drastically. David went back to stroking her hair and he started crooning. She responded well, as she turned her head to look at him. He smiled at her and wiped her tears off her cheeks.

‘Come here.’ He tilted his head and patted his thigh.

She slowly sat up and moved towards him. He carefully took hold of her and curled her up on his lap, making sure to not hurt her bum.

Esme clung to him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, seeking out his affection. David rubbed her back and held her closely, rocking a little.

‘You’re alright, pet.’ He whispered and kissed the top of her head. ‘Don’t worry. It won’t happen again, because you’re our good girl.’

#Butterfly into chains #fan fiction #tom hiddleston #david tennant #michael fassbender #chris evans #benedict cumberbatch

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years ago

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The Coffee Prince Pt. XV

[T’Challa x Reader]

Word Count: 4.2k

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8* *Part 9* *Part 10* *Part 11* *Part 12* *Part 13* *Part 14*

Your vision is blurry and your surroundings sound like you are underwater. A brightness keeps your attention steady but your mind is clear of any coherent thought. The nothingness should be peaceful, but your heart beats sluggishly, heavy with each thunk in your chest and you feel yourself get nauseous. Then a nagging tone reverberates in your head over and over until you’re forced out of the vacuum in your mind.

“(Y/N)?” you hear. The haze in your eyes clears to reveal the coffeeshop and eventually the individual sitting in front of you.

“Are you ok? You are just staring.” T’Challa says. He takes your hand in his and uses his napkin to dry your coffee dampened hand.

You snatch your hand back quickly, knocking into your cup as it tips in your direction. T’Challa snatches it back as quickly as he can but it doesn’t take much for a hot liquid to make its presence known. The splash hits your white sweater dress, heat hits your stomach as the coffee soaks thru and ruins the fabric.

“Oh! Fuck!” you yell out, pulling the offending area away from your skin and getting up to leave.

T’Challa follows you out, apologizing. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You burst outside, trotting to create some distance. You have to go home at this point. There is no way you can work with this mess on you.

Your wrist is grabbed as you are pulled around by T’Challa, but you whip your hand back.

“What the hell was that back there?” you ask.

T’Challa looks at you in confusion. “I was trying to help-”

“Yeah no, I know what you were doing, but why? What are you here for?”

T’Challa keeps a cool head, maintaining his signature royal calm. “I decided it would be nice to talk to you, since I saw you there.”

“You decided?” You cackle into the air, white puffs from the cool weather give you a poetic feature of your anger. “So you were just waiting for the right moment to come up to me? Because why? You were scared? You were busy?”

T’Challa looks less sure of himself as he responds. “No, not at all. But I thought we agreed on space.”

“How long do you take space from someone? Five, six months from a person you claimed to love? I-” you take a minute to gather yourself. “I am going to clean this shit off of me. You go and do whatever the fuck you were planning to do after your 5 minute check in. Thanks Doc.”

You make your way as fast as you can to your car to get back home. Feeling your anger fester inside is exhilarating as you speed down the street. You stop at a red light and hype yourself up turning up the radio to some Flo Milli shit, ready to catch a body.

A horn honks behind you beginning you back to your original task of driving. Assuming you missed the light change you look to still find it red. As you check your rearview, you recognize the driver, T’Challa, urging you to pull over with some finger pointing.

You can’t believe he is even following you. This is the worst time to talk out of all the months you waited for him. He will have to follow your lead.

Soon as the green light comes up, you put the pedal to the floor. Zooming down the road, you try your best to whip around corners and maneuver around cars to shake T’Challa off your path. Checking your mirror again once you were less than 5 minutes from your place, you can’t see him. You sigh with relief, honking your horn once happily that you prevailed.

“Take that! Thinking you can just slide back like nothing happened, bitch please!” you felt your boss energy hit a high as you turned onto your neighborhood.

Once you’re parked, you head up the stairs to your floor, keys jingling as you search for your door key.

“I am glad you made it.”

At the top of your steps, T’Challa is waiting at the door, hands folded in front of him, in his black heavy trench coat. You wouldn’t have guessed he followed you home at all, since he looked like you kept him waiting.

“T’Challa! I seriously didn’t ask you to come here!”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he says.

You sigh, stepping to the door and pushing him aside. “I am on the clock still, I just don’t have the time to even get into it with you.”

Stepping inside your apartment, you look around at the mess you have been too out of it to clean. You turn to the door to close it behind you, but T’Challa holds the door open.

“Are you just going to follow me around the whole damn day?” you exclaim.

“We have had enough space. I can talk while you change.”

“I won’t be listening,” you say, stepping away and heading for your bedroom. You dig around your closet for something to replace your outfit feeling yourself get more upset with each flick of a hanger.

T’Challa closes the door behind him, picking up trash and wine bottles. “I was hoping I would find you well.”

“I’m in a rush!” you shout from your room.

“When we left each other, it took everything for me to not come to you and check on you everyday. I wanted to respect your wishes so I kept myself busy and distracted my thoughts.”

You pick out a brown sweater with navy blue stripes and some black slacks. Not nearly as cute as the white sweater dress but you had little time left.

T’Challa continues, “And what helped me is that I knew you were happy and safe. I did not have to worry about someone trying to take you from me, as long as I stayed back. But I didn’t like the man I became when you were out of my life and it became harder to not at least check on you, so I did frequent the shop more in order to catch a glimpse of you and when I had, I felt the wave of disappointment.”

You step out into the doorway of your bedroom. “Why? Because I looked like I hadn’t slept soundly for weeks? Like I had a cloud of anxiety over my head, wondering when you might pop up?”

“Why would you be anxious to see me?” T’Challa asks. “I feel nothing but calm when I am around you.”

You laugh. “I can’t believe that. It’s awkward running into an ex in any situation so that alone makes it stressful.”

He nods, looking slightly relieved. “As long as there are not other reasons, I am glad.”

“So why say you were disappointed to see me? Your plan of liberating me didn’t work and you felt bad for me?”

T’Challa shakes his head. “I was disappointed because my selfish nature became apparent. You look well, and I didn’t notice any of the conditions you are saying. It was like the day we first met, when you came to me and I was glad. I wanted to come to you in the same nature and see you smile back, but I knew I couldn’t achieve that same effect.”

“So why come up to me today? If you already knew I wouldn’t be happy to see you, why do all this?”

You see his eyes fall. Similar to the way he looked when you left him in Wakanda, T’Challa looks hurt by your words.

“I was hoping I was wrong,” T’Challa says quietly.

You can’t think of words to say next, although that is only a half truth. Your mind filled with words to say but your jaw locked itself tightly.

“All I’ve done is ask you to leave me be. You say I am fine, and I agree. It’s been great not having you around.” You felt a sting in your mouth saying that. Why were you lying?

You walk across to your front door to open it, but he lays his hand on the door.

“You didn’t deserve to go through that alone,” he says.

“I feel like we agreed on that already.”

“I mean after. The break was a mistake.”

“No, it’s what I wanted and you’re ruining it.”

“Umhle…”

“No!” you push him in his chest, making him step back. “Don’t call me that!”

“Listen,” he says.

You push him again, hoping he feels the weight on his heart that you have had to go through for months.

“I won’t! You have nothing left to say that I wanna hear. You talk so damn much!”

Your hands fly up to knock his chest again, but he catches them by the wrist, pushing them above your head and back against the front door.

He looks at you fiercely but not with anger. He looks like he is on the brink of crying as he pins you there, protecting himself from your mania.

You lay your head back, closing your eyes. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then stop.”

“I know, I know.”

He let’s your arms go, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears. Seeing him there in front of you felt like a dream but nt like the ones you’ve been having. You put a hand up to his cheek just to ensure that he is real. He leans his head into your hand gently, allowing your touch and breaking his steadfast stoicism.

What you don’t see coming is your lips finding his. It’s a small peck, but a crack in the cold war between you two. T’Challa looks at you in doe eyed observance, but doesn’t step away.

“Are you ok?” he asks quietly.

You kissed him hard, ripping at his coat to get to his solid body underneath. Your blood pumped with adrenaline as you pushed him toward your couch, pulling up at his shirt.

T’Challa holds your forearms tightly, holding your progress back. “What are you doing?”

“It’s not obvious?” You free your hands to grab the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head, standing before him in nothing but your undergarments and knee high boots.

T’Challa loses this battle, bringing his hands perpendicular to the width of your hips. You wrap your arms around his neck as his lips meet his shoulder, planting delicate kisses that make your insides curl up.

You don’t want this right now, you wanted to get down to business. You take his shirt off swiftly.

“Fall back,” you tell him, shoving him to the couch before jumping onto his lap. Your hands travel his body, retracing those familiar hills and valleys that make up his muscular form. You feel his heart race as your hands lay under his jaw, tickling your palm. You go to unfasten his pants when he stops you again.

“Wait,” he whispers.

“What? You have a condom don’t you? The right kind?”

T’Challa nods wordlessy. But he takes your hand, reaching it toward his forehead to run your finger along his widows peak.

You feel the softness of his curls through each pass along his hairline. T’Challa keeps a steady gaze on you, taking your hand to his lips to kiss your fingertips.

“I always liked it when you did that. How something so small about myself could make you so content,” T’Challa says.

You sit there feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. You didn’t feel that at this moment, you just wanted to feel something other than your sadness, your loneliness, your stress.

“And you haven’t called me by your special name for me yet. Can you remind me?” T’Challa says with a wide grin.

You ignore his growing happiness, thinking things are back to normal or even on the road to being. You get up from his lap, picking up your dress.

“You can leave now,” you say solemnly.

T’Challa stands up, “Something is wrong, I knew. Umhle, we can talk-”

“Please, if you respect anything that I ask you for, when I say leave just leave!” you shout. You run to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Putting on your replacement outfit, you hear T’Challa shutting the apartment door.

You weren’t ready for those sweet moments with T’Challa, calling him ChaCha and admiring his features lovingly. It is still tough to believe that he is even with you. Was he being truthful with his words? Had the separation been hard on him as much as it had been for her? No, it could never be. He has family and a country that loves him, what did you have? And to think he would even have a chance at your body again further shows his delusions of grandeur, you thought.

A couple weeks later, you are packing your desk up as your last day at work has finally come upon you. This job was one of your first ones you got with benefits as an adult and you were so proud to have accomplished earning that income. But it was a stale position with no means of working up so you knew at some point you would have to cut loose for something better. You get a few polite goodbye messages from coworkers on your way out. It’s more than you expected, because your social meter was forever low there.

As the spirit of unemployment takes you to the elevator, your phone beeps with a message from an unknown number.

Hey! Would you like to hang out today? This is Shuri!

You feel a smile come on your face as your favorite little Wakandan texts you, though you do wonder how she acquired your phone number. You instantly agree and set up a time and place right as the elevator doors open. As you ride down, you begin to question why T’Challa couldn’t be more like Shuri? She is so open and fun and light, while he is so serious and guarded. When he looks at you, it’s like he is reading your every expression and trying to read your mind. You know he will not miss a single twitch of your lip, so you have to be as cool with him as you possibly can or he will ask what’s wrong and be concerned. Like the last time you were together, you just wanted him to take you but then he had to get all sentimental and killed it. Why did he have to do that when that’s obviously not what you were asking for? Then the embarrassment fills you; why did you have to jump on him like some thirsty bird? One minute alone and you couldn’t just talk?

As you drive off from your workplace for the last time, you pass the coffee shop once again, feeling more sad than you have all day. Would you have any reason to come by there anymore now that you don’t work down the street from it? Is he going to be there any time now? You assume there’s no chance of that as you turn down the road to head home, mind wandering hopelessly on the chance meetings you both had there, up until your last time seeing each other on your couch.

A few days later, you and Shuri are sitting in a warm bistro in a nice part of town where they serve drinks in mason jars and greet you with the fact that all their furniture is repurposed wood.

“I’m glad you could come here,” Shuri says between bites of bread nestled on top of her tomato bisque soup. She looks amazing in a sheer jumpsuit with red and cream colored ruffles, with a nude colored bralette and matching biker shorts underneath with a heather grey wool coat to cover the ensemble/

“Thanks for inviting me! And happy birthday girl, you’re growing up before my eyes!”

Shuri rolls her eyes. “Aye, stop. I’ve been carrying a country on my back ever since I became a teenager. Nothing has changed since I am now an adult.”

You poke your lip out at her. “Just look at her. Thinking she’s grown already.”

Shuri chuckles, tossing one of her stray braids back behind her shoulder. “Anyway! I just wanted to come see you because you are amazing and I should see amazing people in my life more often.”

You place a hand to your chest. “You really are too generous with your words, Shuri. I should thank you, no matter what I owe you so much. And you didn’t have to make a special meeting with us at all, I know you want to be with family and all.”

Shuri nods. “Of course, I have a flight later to spend the evening at home with Mama and T’Challa and the country is throwing a party in my honor which is going to be so tiring! I tell you I would rather be here in a quiet space wearing comfortable clothes.”

“It does suck to have a whole country praise you for existing,” you say in a bored tone, faking death with your eyes crossed and your tongue hanging half out of your mouth.

“Ok, ok, I get it. Royal child problems. But it’s still not my style. A birthday always turns into an event for others other than yourself. If I did what I wanted, they would think I was kidnapped for ransom, but I am just home doing video games.”

“OH I love playing video games!”

Shuri shakes her head. “No, like making them. I work with developers at Nintendo, XBOX, Sony, and even some mobile games to help them tweak their software. Pokemon has been trying to get my attention for a while.”

You sit there in amazement. “Oh....and that’s all for fun?”

Shuri laughs. “Of course! I thought you said you like video games!”

You laugh with her unsure why her evidence of her intelligence still amazes you so but you can’t help it. This young girl is a literal genius and the world barely knows of her, richer than any white man that flexes their wealth and yet she is here at a bistro on a block she could buy tomorrow if she wanted.

“So have you still decided on moving out of your place?” Shuri asks, sipping her tea.

“I have, yeah. It’s just the right thing to do since I can’t afford to be there anymore.”

“Because you didn’t want it being paid for anymore,” Shuri says matter-of-factly.

“Right. I couldn’t keep accepting that kind of help from you all-”

Shuri raises her hands. “That was all T’Challa.”

“...and that makes it even worse. We weren’t together anymore so why should he pay for me to live. It didn’t sit right with me. And then Tavia not being there makes it sad and lonely and then I am angry and moody, so the apartment is cursed as far as I am concerned!”

“Sure, that’s fair. Well when it is time to start packing and moving things, you know who to call,” Shuri offers.

“Thanks, I probably will have to cash that in. And how is Tavia by the way? Is she settled somewhere or back in Wakanda?”

“She is in the States, yes. We relocated her, she is getting basic needs met by us until she finds a job and is able to sustain herself.”

“She has family in Kentucky, is she there with them?”

Shuri nods. “If you tell anyone I told you…”

“I won’t! That was supposed to be secret?”

“Some worried, if you knew, you might try to find her or consider moving there,” Shuri fidgets with the silver rings on her fingers as she says this.

“I know,” you say. T’Challa probably thinks you will pull something like you did in Wakanda when you snuck to see Erik and Tavia. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sure, especially after the last meeting you all had. I knew an amicable departure was low probability but I hoped.”

“If she had any humility, I would’ve grown to trust her. But she is more angry with T’Challa than Erik. Even more angry at me for some reason! I won’t get into that though, she is who she is and I will keep my distance.”

“Perfect. To distance!” Shuri picks up her ceramic cup and clinks it with yours. “So I take it you haven’t seen T’Challa still, right?”

You choke on your drink when she asks this. “I mean, what chance do I have? I completely cut him from my life.” “Of course, right.”

You think in silence a moment. “So he hasn’t brought me up has he?”

She shakes her head, “No, not in ages.”

You feel a piece of your heart break off. How long is ‘ages’? Not since Wakanda or…

“Huh,” you say.

“Yes, he has been very busy, but that reminds me. I have a business proposition for you.”

“Go on…” you drag out cautiously.

“If you are looking for either a quick side gig of supplemental income or a full time career change, why not consider being at the center with me!” We have an opening and although the talent manager is a bit tough, she is sure to enjoy interviewing someone like you.” Shuri winks at this, while you know full and well that she is the hiring manager.

You bite your lip thinking hard about this. “I mean...what would I do there?”

Shuri sits back and thinks. “Well, you could supervise the games we host at the center, basketball mostly right now. You could help serve lunches, we would just need to get you a food handlers card. There’s tutoring positions if you have strength in certain subjects. We also have a dance group that practices, the coach would like an assistant. And then we have a nursery area as well.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of spots to choose from!’

“You don’t have to make a decision today. Take some time to think about it and what position would serve you best.”

You nod, looking off into your cloud of thought. “You know what, fuck it. I think I wanna help with the dance group.”

“Really? Have you danced before?”

“I used to be in a dance group in high school and like halfway through college. I had to stop because of expenses and I had no time to study anymore so I had to stop. But I can still get down and I feel more comfortable being an assistant, you know. Routine is set, just help through the steps and stretching and stuff. All good.”

Shuri claps her hands together once. “I am so pleased. It really is my birthday now! I’ll have you fill out an application just on an obligatory basis and then I’ll let you know when you start. Can’t wait to see you girl!”

At the end of the meal you hug Shuri and part ways, wishing her a happy birthday once again. Your body feels lighter than air as you think about the new adventure ahead. You also remind yourself to look clear some space in the living room and get a music video playlist going so that you don’t look foolish in front of these young girls. People don’t do the dougie like they used to.

Pulling up to the community center parking lot for your first day, you do a mental checklist to make sure you have all that you need. Water bottle, towel, gym bag with spare outfit, and you’re dressed for movement in your black and pink leggings, oversized tshirt and lightweight tennis shoes. You fluff your puff ball of hair on top of your head and go inside the building.

You hear a cacophony of voices that echo in the hallway as you walk toward a staircase. Bottom floor housed the basketball courts and swimming pool. The first and second has classrooms, daycare and the administrative offices.

As you get off on the first floor, the cutesy decor let you know this is the daycare area. Rainbows and cartoonish animal pictures and alphabet letters pepper the walls as you walk by. Past a door there is a long window that allows you to look inside and see an army of children playing in a toy filled wonderland. A fake fairytale woodsy vibe seems to be a theme with 5 -6 children sitting under a faux tree that is masterfully crafted in one corner of the room. Your standard rubber puzzle piece flooring is jumped on by 2 year old polka dot socked feet. A whole restaurant is set up in the middle that would probably pass health code standards as some girls pretend to serve each other dinner. A fence separates another side of the room that has the little newborn babies, barely doing much else than opening their eyes and going to sleep. A caretaker holds a cute chunky chocolate drop of a baby in her arms, couldn’t have been more than 2 months old.

“Poor mama. Probably has to go back to work and leave her precious child here by themself.” you mutter, knees softening as you fawn over the baby. You feel a tear creep up and spill from your eye but you wipe it quickly, catching your gym bag strap as you collect yourself.

“God, stop crying over babies already,” you scold yourself.

“You should’ve seen her mother the first day she brought her,” T’Challa says behind you. “It was like we were kidnapping her, it was heartbreaking.”

“Dammit,” you curse under your breath. He keeps time better than a watch.

Masterlist

RagTag

@sweetpeachjones @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @universalbri@therevolution-willbelive @you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14 @afraiddreamingandloving@kreolemami@lalapalooza718@syreanne@thiccdaddy-mbaku@she-is-golden @wakanda-inspired@90sinspiredgirl@bidibidibombaclaat @sithlordslut@brujademente@chaneajoyyy@slimmiyagi @lewatigress @shesakillerkween @queentearra @fiercedeception@yaachtynoboat711 @yofavcocoa @katasstrophey @zxddy-panther@babygirlofwakanda@destinio1 @heyauntieeee @ambthegamer @savageiz@klaine15689 @nickidub718 @dramaqueenamby

#shakafic #coffee prince #tchalla fic

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sakuwriteshere · 5 years ago

Text

Downfall

Title: Downfall

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Words count: 1887 words

Warnings: Death scare, slight smut (you’ll blink, you’ll miss it), mention of depression, fluff, comfort, spoiler (if you haven’t watch season 14 finale), subtle mention of drowing

Summary: During a hunt that went wrong, Y/N is remembering one precious moment she shared with Dean

A/N: So! This is my entry for @alleiradayne‘s 2020 Supernatural Summer Shut-in Challenge! I chose the following prompt: “You need to wake up because I can not do this without you.” Go following @alleiradayne if you don’t already!

A/N2: This is unbetated as always, and I apologize for any error or mistake. Enjoy your reading and please share your thoughts with me!

Downfall

The front door of the bunker closes in a loud bang behind them, Dean is leading the way down the stairs, his little brother Sam, right behind him, helping Y/N with the bags. Both Sam and Y/N don’t dare to speak, each of them particularly silent within the last hour. The drive back to the bunker has been gloomy to say the least.

Without even sparing a look at them, Dean heads for his room, leaving Sam and Y/N taking care of the rest. Contrary to Dean who is completely beat, Sam is still functioning, despite the repetitive recent lost battles, Sam keeps on believing. He’s really the only one between the three of them.

With a sigh, Y/N puts the duffel bag on the wooden table in the library, the different weapons rattling in the process. Sam watches her following Dean’s steps, helplessly. He wants to tell something, anything to help her, to help them, but what can he really tell them? That there is always a light at the end of the tunnel? That they will find a way, like they usually do? No. This time they are doomed, for good.

Her body is on autopilot as Y/N enters her own room, she doesn’t even waste her time to switch on the lights and prefers to let her body fall heavily on her bed. What’s the point in fighting anymore? They’re not going to win this fight. This one is too big. How can you defeat God, himself? Were they even supposed to go that far? Y/N doesn’t know anymore.

As she closes her eyes, allowing the tiredness enveloping her, she doesn’t even react when she hears her door opening in a creaky sound. She doesn’t need to wonder who it is, she perfectly knows.

The bed dips slightly as Dean lays down next to her. She can feel him manhandling her body and she willfully lets him do as he wants. Within a few minutes, Y/N is little spooned by Dean, his arms wrapped strongly around her waist while their legs are a tangled mess, caging her properly with his body, giving her exactly what they both need the most at the moment.

Warmth, protection, comfort and love.

Absentmindedly, Y/N’s fingers brush against Dean’s hand on her stomach as her mind keeps replaying the last previous hours. Chuck declared war, or more precisely, God announced the end of the World. How are they supposed to fix that? Everything they’ve been through, every choice they’ve made until now, thinking it was for the greater good, seems so meaningless. There is no free will, they’re not making their own choice. Everything has been decided for them long before they were even born. Even the most precious decisions they’d made aren’t truly their.

“Don’t.” Dean’s raspy voice sermons her, his hot breath tickling her cheek.

She doesn’t need to ask him what he’s talking about, he knows her like the back of his hand and how her brain works from time to time. Especially during those kinds of uncertain moments.

“Just stop thinking, alright? You’re not in the right mind to make the difference between what’s right or wrong.”

“But…” She turns her head slightly, trying to look at him but his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth make her fall silent.

“No buts, Y/N. I’m serious.” He tells her with a patronizing voice.

Y/N shifts a bit so she can turn around and face Dean properly. Once she’s in a comfortable position, Dean’s arms wrap around her once again, pulling her body against his.

“This is big, Dean.” She whispers and when she sees Dean’s cocky smirk, she’s quick to add “I don’t mean that.”

Dean chuckles and pecks her lips, he’s satisfied with himself because for a second she has stopped thinking about Chuck. He would do anything to make her feel better and he knows exactly what she needs to keep her mind out of focus.

Slowly, Dean brings his face closer, their breaths mixing as they share a kiss. At first it’s gentle and tender, a soft brush of the lips, just enough to feel each other’s presence. A silent reminder that they’re still both alive. Then, Dean’s mouth is becoming greedy, claiming her lips just the way she likes it. One of his hands unwrap itself, sliding up her side, leaving goosebumps in its trail, until it reaches her face. His big hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking the skin underneath while his tongue runs over her bottom lip, silently asking for more. A request she’s more than happy to grant.

Lost in their tender battle of teeth and tongue, fighting each other for dominance, their bodies start moving on their own. Dean comes on top of her, parting her legs so he could fit between them more comfortably while she lays down on her back, the kiss never breaking. Despite the heated moment, Y/N’s mind still goes back to the big problem, keeping her from really enjoying the intimate moment.

As if he’s a mind reader, Dean parts slightly, their breathings short and uneven as he gives her a sullen look.

“This,” He starts to say as he grabs her hand and presses it against his beating heart. “Is real, ok? We’re real and meant to be. I don’t care if it’s because of God or Destiny or some wrinkled old witch. We’ve found each other and I'm gonna hold onto that until the end, ok?”

Y/N can only nod at that. It always baffles her how easily he understands her. It’s like he’s reading her like an open book.

“Your biggest enemy is not Chuck, Y/N. It’s this.” Dean says pressing two fingers against her temple. “Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.” He adds, forcing a small smile.

She knows how right he is because she has witnessed his darkest moments. Being able to let the other one see how down you are, to share with him her deepest fears and secrets, it asks a lot of trust to let it happen. And she trusts Dean with all her heart, of that she is sure.

“I love you.” The words hit her like a ton of bricks. It’s not the first time she hears them, but Dean isn’t not really the confident type of man, so whenever he utters those three words it always makes her heartbeat go wild, making her feel alive and strong because she knows it’s the truth. He loves her as much as she loves him. It’s not even funny how strong they fell for each other.

“I love you too.” She whispers and here comes the smile she loves. The genuine one, when she can see his pearly white teeth, the wrinkles deepening at the corners of his eyes. Despite the dim light, she can see how green his eyes are, full of love and promises.

Soon, his face becomes serious again, the longing glint replaced by a needy one as Dean leans over her. They share another kiss, this one greedy, demanding, their hands flying around them to get rid of the unnecessary clothes.

“Stay with me. I need you.” Dean gasps, trailing hot kisses down her collarbone.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She pants, sinking her nails in his lower back as she arches under his ministrations, searching for more contact.

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” Dean says, both of his hands suddenly cupping her face.

“Wh-what?” She stutters, blinking twice when she notices the fear in Dean’s eyes above her.

“I’m begging you. Don’t do this to me. Wake up!” His voice resonates around her before a blinding light attacks her eyes.

She wakes up with a start, taking a big breath in the process, filling her lungs with much needed air. The first thing that hits her is Dean’s body, literally, as he engulfs her in a bear hug. Still trying to understand what happened, she wraps her arms around him, noticing how heavy her clothes felt, then she realizes she’s completely drenched and freezing. She tries to ask him what’s going on but her body is trembling so hard, and her mouth refuses to form something more than shaky sounds.

“Shh. I got you. I got you.” Dean shushes her, the embrace tightening and keeps repeating the words again and again. They are more for himself to be honest, he needs to tell himself that she’s alright.

“Come on let’s go back to the cabin.” Dean whispers before kissing her temple and holding her up in his arms.

There’s nothing better than a warm shower and a cup of hot cocoa. Bundled with big covers, Y/N watches Dean ending his phone call with Sam. The older Winchester told Sam everything about their last case and assured his little brother they are leaving the cabin first thing in the morning.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asks as he sits next to her on the couch, one of his arms wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her body against his. He kisses the crown of her head before he lets himself relax completely. Now that the case was over and Y/N was breathing, his mind could be at ease.

She takes a sip of the hot liquid, wincing as it burns the tip of her tongue. She shrugs as she feels fine, considering she almost died two hours ago. She thought the werewolf would attack her, not hit her hard on the head before pushing her unconscious body into the cold river.

“This is the last time you’re playing bait. Watch my words, Y/N. I mean it.” Dean warns her, his eyes dead set on her. He is really serious. She still can see the worry in those green eyes she loves so much.

Y/N closes her eyes before she puts the cup on the coffee table in front of them. She adjusts her body on the couch, pushing the covers away then pats her tights, motionning silently Dean to rest his head on her lap.

“I should be the one comforting you right now.” Dean argues nonchalantly but lays down nonetheless.

“I’m fine don’t worry. You already took care of me.” She reassures him, her hand threading Dean’s hair in a soothing manner as soon as he was comfortable.

“Did I?” Dean asks, a content sigh leaving his lips as he relaxes completely under her soft touch.

She hums, her gaze lost in the void, enjoying the peaceful moment meant just for the two of them. Silence envelops them, for the rest of the night they can pretend they are just regular human beings. No more hunt, no more death scare, just two people in love and taking care of each other. The comfortable silence being disturbed only by Dean’s soft snores while Y/N watches over during his much needed sleep, a soft smile curling at the corner of her lips.

Dean is right, as long as they have each other, there’s no reason to give up. Chuck might be God but he made his biggest mistake by bringing Y/N Y/L/N and Dean Winchester together he just created his downfall.

FIN

Pour Toujours Tags: @drakelover78, @akshi8278

#alleiradayne's 2020 SSSI #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #female!reader #reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #oneshot

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allie1804-fan · 4 years ago

Text

The Middle of the Road (Chapter 17)

Warnings: Some explicit context

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 , 9, 10, 11 , 12, 13 14 , 15 , 16

Feb 2026

“Wakey, wakey rise and shine my lady”

“mmmmm what?

Emily stirred as Keanu set a tray down on the dressing table.

“Breakfast time – I think you need a nourishing start for this big day don’t you?”

“Oh my god!” she groaned as she remembered, in her drowsy state, what day it was. It was the Oscars Ceremony that night and her screenplay for a film made the year before had been nominated for Best Original Screenplay. The whole situation was surreal and she’d be doing the whole ‘get ready and promotion’ hoopla for the first time as the main player of the family as opposed to the wife of the main event. Keanu was loving it, teasing her relentlessly during the prior few weeks when she went to do press and he was left home with the kids, who were now 4 ½ and 3 ½ . They were at one and the same time a handful and a delight.

It was a Sunday and right now, they were currently watching TV downstairs and Maria, still their nanny on a part time basis, was watching them. She was here for the day so the two of them could attend the ceremony and it was a treat to have time to enjoy breakfast alone when usually at least one of them would be up at 7 and they’d all be up eating pancakes by 8. Typically there were no lazy Sundays as they would usually go out after breakfast to have some outdoors time, get the kids enjoying fresh air and expending some of their boundless energy.

Keanu and Emily tucked into granola with super cold milk (he always insisted on that!) and then some coffee and a pain au chocolat before snuggling back under the covers.

“Thanks so much for that - a luxury start to a big day but I should go down and see the kids”

“oh no you don’t, not yet. Maria is in full control and I want to keep you to myself a bit longer!”

“Oh yeah what do have in mind mister?”

“I might just want to make love to my Oscar nominated wife one more time before she becomes my Oscar winning wife”

“Oh come on, I’m not gonna win, I’m up against Mike Leigh and Guillermo del Torro for god’s sake”

“Doesn’t matter who they are, it’s what you wrote that will win it for you”

“Ahh well thanks for the vote of confidence but I’m just amazed to be nominated even - so what will be will be ……………..anyway, about that love making………” she purred, rubbing his cock with the palm of her hand through the lounge pants he had worn to go downstairs”

He responded with a low moan and pulled her to him for a kiss “mmmmm you still taste all chocolatey, got anything else sweet for me?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, sliding down under the covers, rubbing her breasts through her nightshirt and sliding it up as he went, exposing her stomach as he did. She laid her head back on the pillow as she felt his lips on her belly then his warm hands wiggle their way underneath her to grasp her ass. He teased her for a few moments, kissing the tops of her thighs then just blowing softly over her mound making her cry out in need of him. Finally, he obliged, sticking out his tongue and probing up inside her.

“so ruby red and sweet as nectar” he muttered before engulfing her pussy with his mouth and starting a pattern of steady circling and sucking of the hood of her clit, flicking the nub itself then licking the lips and probing up inside her vagina. He was patience personified, taking it slow and letting her get close then easing down momentarily – he loved the build up.

She had started to claw at the sheets as she neared orgasm when he suddenly stopped and knelt up in front of her making her gasp in her unfulfilled need. He looked at her mischievously as she lay, pink colour spreading across her chest and cheeks then put two of his long fingers in his mouth to wet them before smiling and laying down again.

She cried out as she felt those two fingers slide inside her and his mouth latch onto his target once more. He groaned as he felt the juices increasing as he pumped slowly in and out, gradually curling his fingers up to press into her g spot. Her hips pressed up rhythmically towards his waiting mouth and one hand grasped his head and held him to his task. Feeling her clitoris reach peak hardness, he pumped faster and harder with his fingers and she let out a load squeal at the intense release followed by a long low moan. Keanu’s ministrations turned gentle as he eased her down before he sat up, a broad grin on his wet face which she hardly registered as she lay recovering.

He wasn’t about to let her have too long to recover though , so great was his need by this point and she soon found herself pulled towards him, her butt pressing against his thighs while he played with her breasts with one hand and grasped his thick shaft with the other.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t wait to have you” he muttered, laying down against her and nibbling on her neck as his cock made its presence felt between her legs. Despite his pressing need, he took it gently. Her pussy was still tight and contracting after her orgasm so he pushed in inch by inch to allow her to relax and take him.

“One last piece of loving mrs nominee” he grunted out, pushing his whole length inside at last, making her quiver against him. “You OK?”

“God yes, just take me now”

Her words inflamed him and he lifted up on extended arms, pulling almost all the way out before each thrust filled and thrilled her. Just as he had with her first orgasm, he knew how to orchestrate this performance too, pumping slow and steady at first, beginning to angle his cock to rub her g spot, then waiting, waiting to feel the gentle fluttering in her vagina that signalled she was on the verge of coming. Only then did he pump faster and harder, thrilling to the sensations of her hands clawing at his back, her pussy pulsing around him, her cries growing louder and his own orgasm crashing his senses, blinding him in a wave of pleasure.

Afterwards, he laid down against her, resting on his elbows and kissing her neck as she stroked his back for a while. Eventually he rolled off her and they lay quietly together, with only the sound of the air conditioning in the background.

“Are we getting better at that?” he asked jokingly.

“mmm you are!” she grinned – I just lay back and enjoyed!”

“naah takes two to tango!”

“Well all I know is, if I don’t win anything tonight, I’ve still won the best prize being married to you”

“Are you saying you just want me for the sex?!”

“Precisely” she laughed, grabbing his butt “you’re just my own personal himbo”

They lay giggling and snuggling a little while longer then got up to spend time with the kids before they had to head downtown. They would be dressed by a stylist at a hotel and Emily had some pre red carpet interviews to do alongside the cast and director of the movie of her screenplay. Keanu himself was due to present - fortunately not for her award and he would be done and back sitting beside her when it came time for her award to be announced.

The crowds lining the red carpet were noisy and enthusiastic and Keanu took pride of place next to Emily when Ryan Seacrest invited them up to say a few words.

“and how do you feel about playing second fiddle to your wife today Keanu?”

Emily blushed and he launched into their favourite awards day saying:

“Well, it makes a refreshing change to let her step into the limelight that I’ve been hogging since we met and of course I’m proud, happy and thrilled that she got nominated for her amazing writing. It’s thoroughly well deserved”

“and did you draw on your personal life to inform the characters?” Ryan asked with a cheeky grin. The screenplay was about a man who enticed a high class escort to fall in love with then carry out a murder for him!

Emily laughed along with both Ryan and Keanu who was covering his mouth with his hand as usual.

“Definitely not – I have a very vivid imagination. And nothing could be further from our lives right now with a 3 and a 4 year old running us ragged most of the time!”

“and will they be at home watching right now?”

“Maybe” Keanu said “but they don’t find mom and dad in fancy clothes that interesting so they’re more likely to be out in the garden playing if I had to guess!”

“Well give them a wave just in case and good luck tonight Emily and good luck with the presenting gig Keanu”

“They each waved at the camera and moved on letting the next guest take their place with Ryan.

They headed to the large reception area, meeting with friends and colleagues along the way to chat and exchange ‘good lucks’. The pre-amble always took ages, Keanu had warned her and Emily’s feet were aching by the time they finally sat down for the prestigious ceremony to begin.

Keanu pointed out the camera positions to her and they joked about the gracious face she’d need to adopt in the event of losing. Several awards came and went before he had to leave to present the Best Supporting Actor award. Emily was sure the cameras swung onto her as he presented though she couldn’t be sure. That was OK by her - she knew she simply had a proud expression all over her face. She was definitely more worried about the moment coming up when they would definitely zoom in on her. Keanu made his way back to her after a couple more awards which left just one more to come before her moment in the spotlight.

The nominees were announced and Keanu squeezed her hand as her name was announced, knowing how nervous and exposed she felt. They played clips from each nominated film after that which gave her a few minutes to gather herself for the big reveal.

The presenters were George Clooney and Emily Blunt who’d co-starred in a film the previous year which was also up for an award. Keanu had teased that Emily only wanted to win because George would kiss her cheek if she did. She had been a fan of his ever since ER in the 90s!

As Emily was opening the envelope, she held Keanu’s hand in a tight grip.

“… and the winner is ……… Emily Reeves”

Keanu leapt up cheering and grabbed her hand to make her stand. He hugged her close and whispered in her ear.

“Now go get your kiss from George! You did it, you’re amazing!”

She kissed him back, simply stunned to have won and rooted to the spot for a moment

“go go” he laughed and she finally let go of his hand to make her way to the stage.

Fear gripped her as she kissed the cheeks of both Emily and George before taking the award from George with shaking hands. “imagine everyone naked” she reminded herself as she stood behind the podium and looked at the sea of faces.

“I’ll keep it short” she said “I know that’s an unusual promise from a writer but I think I can safely say, my husband is more cut out for this limelight business! So thank you Academy for this great honour thank you to the team who brought my screenplay to life in such an amazing, entertaining way and thanks of course to Keanu for making it possible for me to find time amidst raising our young family, to write again. There was a time when I thought I would never come up for air from breast-feeding and diapers but together we’ve made it work, he’s been my biggest cheerleader in this process even though he knew I’d get to kiss my hero ‘Doug Ross’ if I won!”

The audience laughed and the camera swung to Keanu chuckling behind his hand as she said this and then to George laughing too.

She rounded off her speech quickly after that.

“So thank you again Academy for this great honour and for making the dream of teenaged me come true in every way”

A couple of hours later, they arrived at the Governor’s ball where Emily would get her award engraved with her name and they could at last have something to eat. They managed to find a space to sit and be together and let others just come to them rather than endlessly circulating. It was a moment for them to enjoy and share in particular. They hadn’t really been able to talk since the award itself.

“Thank you for my honourable mention” he said kissing her cheek.

“Well you deserve nothing less. I couldn’t have got my mojo back without the space to write that you made happen”

“No we made it happen, just like we made those beautiful babies back home and we made sweet love this morning and we make our day to day life as happy as it can be amidst the madness of toddlers!”

She stroked his cheek and looked adoringly into his eyes.

“Yeah we make a good team huh?”

“Yup – and will you stay with me still, even after kissing ‘Doug Ross?”

“weeeell” she started, making out that it was a tough decision – he laughed and punched her lightly on the arm.

“Well OK then Keanu, I’ll stay with you, if you insist!”

“I do, indeed I do” he replied, pulling her into a kiss that sealed the deal.

The End

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

#keanu #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu reeves ofc

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pippki-writes · 4 years ago

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An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 15

NOTES:

Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7; Snippet 8; Snippet 9; Snippet 10; Snippet 11; Snippet 12; Snippet 13; Snippet 14

Word Count: ~2k

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him; Isaiah and everyone else here are mine.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A lot of things can happen in five short days. Like you find out your murder-friend-with-benefits got killed, and brought back by the god of Chaos on the condition that he had no memories of the love of his life. And maybe Chaos encourages your friend to pay more attention to you instead of the man he had loved. And maybe you go along with it—even though you know, right there in front of his actual love, that it’s so fucked up of you, that it won’t last, that it’s all just going to go horribly wrong. You fall into it anyway.

Hasn’t happened to you? Oh, just Isaiah then.

Isaiah still can’t explain to himself why, when Faoust asked, he agreed to try being something more for one another…first Isaiah agreed to come home with him, not to fool around more but to simply…spend time together? And then, what a day later? After spending the night, spending the day together, after a second fantastic tumble in as many days, just laying together spent in bed, there Faoust was saying insanely sappy things, about how Isaiah understood him, and how he liked being around him, and wondering about whether they were destined to be together? That sort of bullshit made Isaiah laugh. He doesn’t believe in destinies—no. A man controls his own fate, choices, actions. This was no destiny. Just Isaiah, who liked what they had already. Who didn’t want to ruin an already good thing. But who decided, finger pressed to Faoust’s lips to shush him from a string of “this is stupid”s, Faoust trying to backpedal his feelings while Isaiah simply needed time to think…who decided to go for it anyway.

It wasn’t a perfect five days. Saccharinity—a sweet kiss, a gentle touch of his face—made Isaiah feel uncomfortable—was not for him, not the dynamic he was used to sharing, not with Faoust. He had no desire to be exclusive either, the two of them, though he could sense the disappointment when Faoust agreed to it. That should have been a stronger clue how none of this was real. Before Chaos intervened, Faoust was living a quite comfortably open polyamorous life. Why would he suddenly want to forsake that for a monogamous life with Isaiah? Not that Isaiah would want such a thing anyway, even if he didn’t feel so uncomfortable with the idea of genuine commitment.

And then there were the appearances from Chaos itself, its terrifying hold over Faoust, fucking with his mind, inviting Isaiah to join it? Isaiah didn’t want to think about the horrible, too-toothed smile and the way it held Faoust. The way it smoothed over Faoust’s memories to free him from pain, to keep him from remembering.

Ah, and then the fifth night. When Isaiah had gotten attacked by Faoust’s true love, Dorien, over a bit of a misunderstanding (yes, ok, he can objectively admit how it might look to burst into a room and see Isaiah with a knife in his hand straddling Faoust, with Faoust covered in a mess of bloody cuts, but it was consensual), had gotten thrown against the wall and attacked over and over, Dorien screaming and slashing Isaiah’s arms. Faoust had had to save him from Dorien, had told him later he’d been scared Dorien was going to kill him. Someone caring whether he died? That was new.

And then, Isaiah hadn’t even bothered to ask how, he didn’t care, later that night, Faoust got his memories back. The hold Chaos had had over his mind had broken. He was back to the way he’d always been. Isaiah woke from a half-sleep with a start, remembers seeing Faoust peeking in awkwardly. Isaiah realized as he woke up that Faoust was at the door, rather than still in the bed with him.

“Hm? Where’d you run off to?”

“So,” said Faoust, “I have some good news and bad news.”

Isaiah knew. He knew by the tone of Faoust’s voice that this was it, that this—whatever it was—was over. “Ah, just say it.”

“I’m back. I got my memory back…all of it.”

“Is that the good news, the bad news, or both?”

“Little bit of both. Ah…” Faoust decided, after a pause, to just come out with it. “Chaos was manipulating my feelings for you. I don't..I don't feel any differently than I did before I died. I still care about you. A lot. But I was comfortable where we were.”

“Yeah, it…yeah.” Isaiah sighed. “Are you mad at me for going along with it anyway?”

Faoust smiled a little sadly. “Not at all.”

A bit more banter exchanged between the two of them. Isaiah claimed Faoust’s bed for the night, since he had very recently gotten a beat-down from the man Faoust would be eagerly waiting to run back to. They said the expected sort of things to say between people hoping to shift back to something they’d had before with as little damage as possible. Wouldn’t work out anyway. Better for both of us. Faoust seemed inclined to keep talking, as if to make up for this—whatever breaking off this was. But Isaiah didn’t want this pity, this strange compensation, this consolation prize of conversation knowing that Faoust was just waiting for Isaiah to seem ok so he could leave again. Isaiah finally chased Faoust off with a good-natured “stop bothering me, I’m sleeping,” rolling away from him and spreading himself out on his stomach across as much of the whole bed as he could, waiting for Faoust to leave.

Once Faoust was gone, Isaiah rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Yes.

Best for both of them.

Isaiah isn’t meant for soft, kind things.

Murder and magic. That’s what he’s good for.

Now, Isaiah sits on his porch, legs kicked against the railing, thinking. His hands hold a stick and his knife, slowly worrying the bark away with the blade as he tries to make sense of his mind. It hadn’t even been love, they’d both said that, even when Faoust was completely under the control of Chaos, he’d never said he loved Isaiah. And even if he had, come on, Isaiah had been loved before.

But no. That wasn’t quite right, was it?

Vespar had been loved. And Elios before that, and Redrik before that, and so on down the line until you hit the bedrock of Isaiah, who had never been loved. Not by his mother. Not by his father. Not by anyone.

No one had loved him, and especially no one had ever known him, really him and all the things he did, and loved him. Not even come close. This thing with Faoust, it hadn’t been love. But it had been something that could have come close.

But no. It had all just been based on lies and manipulation. He knew that. He’d known it going in. So why does he feel so…hell. He doesn’t even know how to describe what he’s feeling.

Isaiah’s reverie is snapped by the sound of someone approaching. Any other time, a stranger crashing through the trees to his hidden home, calling out, “Isaiah James?” would have been great cause for concern. But here, today, right now, feeling things he isn’t even sure how to describe, the distraction is welcome. Isaiah stands warily, letting the stick fall, holding the knife ready in his hand.

The man stops at the edge of the clearing, holds up a hand to shade his eyes from the sun in spite of the cheap aviators on his face, to glance at Isaiah, check the phone in his hand, and back to Isaiah. He’s wearing a coat, though the day is a bit warm for it, and projects a solid confidence as he starts walking towards the porch.

“I’ve been looking for you, Isaiah James,” the man begins, “and hell have you been difficult to find. Would have figured you for dead, if I’d been able to find a body. But your mother—“

At this, the man freezes. Something in Isaiah snaps, this man speaking a name he shouldn’t know, mentioning his mother. He wants to hear no more, and without even needing to think about it he found his hand quickly tracing out the sigil in the air, the words across his lips, his will being imposed on another, binding the man in place. Isaiah closes the distance between the two of them, in the quiet of the trees, the traffic and the rest of the world distant and muffled by this little place where Isaiah has made a home.

“You should have found me dead,” Isaiah hisses, his thumb rubbing against the heel of his blade, using his magic to jerk the man down to his knees, wide-eyed and still frozen. “They sure as hell won’t find you.”

Isaiah draws the blade hard and deep across the man’s throat, one fierce quick motion, but stops before sending the body hurtling down into the earth where no one will find it. He grabs the phone, still clenched in the man’s hand, and holds it up to the man’s wide eyed face to unlock it.

The screen is on a missing persons poster, with side by side images—a sullen-looking 14-year-old boy with short, sandy curls, and the uncanny, unnerving imaginings of a computer algorithm of what that boy might look like now at 33. Still unsmiling, eyes hollow and dead. Have you seen him? asks the poster. Isaiah James.

Isaiah eyes the image critically. A facsimile of himself, hair too short, eyes (both of them, but hah, how could a computer guess he’d be missing one?) without any hint of mischief or trouble, an alternate Isaiah that could have been. Maybe, if Isaiah had been any kind of normal.

Isaiah swipes to the man’s messages to see what else he can find.

He has no intention of telling the bitch ahead of time, but Isaiah James has decided to come home. browser tabs, but it doesn’t look like the man told her where he thought Isaiah was. Not even where he was looking.

The man was a private investigator, apparently. Not from around here, by what Isaiah can glean from the details on his phone, and so, Isaiah thinks as he dips a finger in the man’s blood to start drawing a sigil, not likely to be missed soon. It’s so much easier to send someone hurtling into the earth right when he kills them, drawing upon the power of the bloodshed in the moment. Waiting requires this extra step. Manual, he thinks, rather than automatic. He considers keeping the phone, but no. He’s seen enough. A cell signal is a liability. He uses his magic to bury the phone far away, deep within the earth, and to send the man disappearing into the ground below, never to be found.

Back by the road, Isaiah finds a rental car. Tedious, he thinks, hotwiring the car and driving it off somewhere dark and without the pesky interference of video cameras. He can’t just leave the car near his home—that would inspire searches. Questions. Shit he doesn’t need. He drives it a few towns over, to give a different police force something to puzzle over, and slips back home through the shadows.

Perhaps, if he had been in a different sort of mood, Isaiah would shrug it off. To hell with his mother and whatever the hell she wants with him. It surely won’t be anything good. But right now, Isaiah feels…uncertain. Bothered by things he doesn’t know how to even identify. Needing something else to turn his mind to, to distract him from the confusion inside. He snaps his knife shut, sliding it in his pocket, and goes back in to grab his truck keys.

He wants to know. He needs to know. What the hell does she want?

He has no intention of telling the bitch ahead of time, but Isaiah James has decided to come home.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

#an ill-fitting name #My writing #original story #collaborative fiction #original work #original writing #original fiction #magic fiction #magic murderer #magic murder #snippets #fictional murderer #fictional murder

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ohblackdiamond · 4 years ago

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little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 23 of 29)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19 part 20 part 21 part 22 part 23 part 24 part 25 part 26 part 27 part 28 part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene watch T.V. and continue to delay the inevitable.

They went home after that, stopping only to pick up some more takeout for dinner. Paul was bemoaning it a bit, and offering to make them both sandwiches instead, even when he was pulling up to the restaurant.

“I’ve gained three pounds just this past week.”

“You’ve been weighing yourself?”

Paul looked at him weirdly.

“Well, yeah. Every day.”

“Even since this happened?” Gene was a little bewildered to think that even getting cursed hadn’t been enough to distract Paul out of that particular concern.

“Yeah. I think I’m still gaining it all in the abdomen.” Paul took a disgusted glance down at himself, assuming he could even see his stomach past his chest. Gene was beginning to wonder. “We can’t keep eating like we’re on the road.”

“Can’t we?”

“Fuck, no.” Paul grimaced, shaking his head as he parked the car and turned off the engine. “I spent the entire break trying to get my weight down.”

“You look fine. Why are you so worried?”

“The costume girls’ll have a fit.”

It was the first time either of them had mentioned anything related to the tour all day. It cut through the Central Park fantasy like an Exacto knife. Gene wasn’t going to have some cute girl—this cute girl—hanging on his arm for much longer. Maybe no more than a few hours.

Gene rubbed his elbow uncomfortably. Paul, gazing at his own reflection in the car mirror and pushing his hair in front of his shoulders, didn’t seem to notice, so Gene pushed the rest of his thoughts aside. They got out of the car together; Gene paid for the food, and they returned to Paul’s place soon after. Half the takeout was gone before they’d even gotten home with it. They finished off the rest at the kitchen island, then laid around on the couch awhile, T.V. running in the background while Gene read and Paul doodled.

It was kind of funny, really. Occasionally it felt like nothing had really shifted. Still watching T.V. together like they used to in the hotels, back when getting laid after the show was a distant hope and not an inevitability. Eating out of Styrofoam boxes. Joking around and shooting the shit.

The rest of the time, Gene was painfully aware of how much had shifted. There was the sex, sure, even if they hadn’t gone all the way, but that wasn’t the whole of it. He’d still have his gloomy spells, sure, but overall, Paul seemed so happy. So open. So—maybe Gene was giving himself too much credit, but Paul seemed—taken with him. He’d never been aware of anything like that out of Paul before. If those big, dark eyes had ever looked Gene’s way with half the warmth and attention he was getting now, then—well, then, Gene hadn’t noticed.

He’d thought Paul didn’t like him a bit when they’d first met, in fact. He’d been high on his own bravado, and Paul had just hung in the periphery of his circles. Somebody had introduced them, and Gene had popped off immediately, something like oh, you write songs?, and Paul—well, he’d been Stan, and Stanley if you wanted to piss him off, back then; he hadn’t gone by Paul until a year or two later—had snapped right back with an affirmative.

He remembered asking him to play one for him, and Paul had. The song was a lousy, incoherent mash-up of the Stones, Bowie, and the Beatles at their most soused, and his playing was worse. But somehow after, they’d just… Gene didn’t know. He couldn’t remember a definitive point where they’d clicked. Paul had still been in the process of nearly flunking out of high school, while Gene was a sophomore, or maybe a junior in college. But he remembered starting to call him up after classes, inviting him to parties and jams. He remembered thinking Paul was standoffish and nervous, not cut out at all for the rockstar career he was so desperate for. But he didn’t remember ever getting the feeling Paul dug him. More that he was just lonely.

He didn’t want to delve into it too deeply. Rethink nearly ten years of interactions. It wouldn’t do any good, and it wouldn’t change any of the way things were right now. He watched Paul kick up his ankles against the arm of the couch, and finally spoke.

“What did you take us out for, anyway?”

Paul glanced up from his drawing. It was something weird and abstract, not the eerily-accurate dick sketches Gene was accustomed to out of him. Hatchmarks, parallel lines, and weird, elongated shapes were well on their way to completely covering the sketchpad.

“To pay you back. I told you.” The pencil resumed its scratch across the page.

“No, why did you really do it?”

“Because we’d never get to again.”

That was all he said for awhile. The words hung like streamers. Gene sort of wanted to argue him down, even though he wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know exactly what Paul meant.

“You can take me out anytime.”

“Not like that.” Paul shifted abruptly. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Gene raised his head, half at the words, half at the slight thump of Paul’s sketchpad next to him on the couch.

“Want some company? I hear there’s a water shortage.”

Paul shook his head. Gene felt guilty at his own weird relief. For whatever reason, Paul wasn’t ready yet. They could keep on pretending for awhile longer.

“Maybe later tonight.”

Gene nodded. Paul’s expression seemed a little bit strained, but he turned and headed for the bedroom, not closing the door behind him. A minute or two later, Gene could hear the sound of the water running.

Then he got up, looking through the living room’s bookshelf as if he hadn’t done it prior. Paul didn’t really read for pleasure. He had stuff like The Power of Positive Thinking, Games People Play, I’m OK – You’re OK, and a ragged copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People, the last of which was highlighted like a book of scripture. Gene had been flipping through it while Paul drew.

Then he had magazines with his face or KISS’ picture on the front cover. No intellectual reading material at all, though that wasn’t what he was looking for. At the bottom of one shelf were Paul’s junior and senior annuals and a small line of photo albums. Gene pulled one of the older-looking albums out at random.

It was green and typical, with thick black pages. Probably one Paul’s parents had started of him. The initial contents weren’t surprising. A faded birth announcement. A taped-in lock of baby hair dated August 2, 1952—Paul’s parents hadn’t bothered with upsherin, so maybe it was no wonder he’d never had his bar mitzvah. Sepia infant photos—Gene swallowed a bit when he realized that even in the pictures where Paul was barely able to sit up on his own, the photographer had him posed with his head turned to the right, to hide the microtia. Some pictures from birthdays. A picture of him along with the rest of his second grade class. They were lined up by height, and Paul was standing towards the back, easily recognizable just from the eyes and expression. By that point, he’d apparently figured out the pose on his own; he was almost aggressively facing right, while everyone else was looking the camera head-on.

All that misery and insecurity over two square inches of missing cartilage.

Gene shook his head. He flipped past most of the rest of the pictures of Paul as a kid, past even the awkward handful from when he was a teenager, before finally coming up on photos slightly closer to current. He’d apparently kept a few Polaroids from Wicked Lester and the earliest days of KISS, before they’d even had the makeup. Then, as he turned the pages, he found a scattering of random, more recent shots. Paul goofing off in hotel rooms. Paul lounging in swim trunks by the pool. Paul in a tux sucking cake frosting off his fingers at Ace’s wedding.

He was trying to hammer in his head that this was how Paul really was and really looked. He was trying to figure out if he’d still be attracted to him once he was back to normal. If he’d feel something while he looked at the pictures. Start getting hot under the collar, maybe, the way he did with Playboy centerfolds. But—well, Paul only tried provocative poses when he had on the greasepaint, and most everything in the album was barefaced and fairly candid. Gene wasn’t sure he was feeling anything beyond some fondness while looking over pictures of Paul in front of the Eiffel Tower or eating poi in Hawaii.

That bothered him. Not that he was planning on jacking off to a stupid picture of Paul sitting shirtless on the hood of his car, but—he’d—he’d wanted something definite out of this. Arousal or repulsion. He needed to know. Whether Paul had wanted him for four days or four years, Gene owed him that much.

The dull white noise of the shower cut off. Gene put the photo album and the book back on the shelf and waited for Paul’s returning footsteps. Maybe later tonight, he’d said. Maybe later than that.

Paul spent longer than he meant to in there. Cleaned himself up, washed his hair and shaved. He’d gotten into the habit of shaving almost everything but his chest and sometimes his underarms because of the tours. Now that he was basically down to only having to worry about his underarms and legs, the effort took two minutes or less, leaving him just standing useless for awhile under the spray.

He knew what his next move ought to be, just as well as Gene did. Invite him in, get rid of the whole virginity problem, and get back to normal. There was no reason to keep delaying it. He’d had his time with Gene. More of it than he probably deserved, the way that they’d already wormed themselves out of the curse’s terms of consummation, like wily lawyers with contracts.

He wasn’t scared. Well. He wasn’t just scared. He knew it was probably going to hurt. He hadn’t tried to penetrate himself since that second night with Gene, and even Gene’s fingering had pretty much been rubbing. If he couldn’t tolerate a finger inside him, a dick would be even worse. Paul was tempted to blame it on Carol, but if one less-sexy Playboy article was anything to go by, it was really just his nerves. He’d have no bulwark against them, either, no drugs or alcohol, when he slept with Gene. When he really slept with Gene.

That wasn’t his real problem, anyway. His real problem was the same as ever. Knowing it would all be over as soon as he let it happen.

He skimmed a hand over one newly-smooth thigh, fingers sliding across his wet skin. Up to his stomach, then his breasts, idly pushing them together. Considering. Wondering how it must’ve felt for Pinocchio once he got everything he ever wanted, once he was flesh instead of wood. Funny how that was Gene’s takeaway from that movie. Work hard, get your wish. Input-output. But he wasn’t going to get his wish here. Paul couldn’t be a real girl for him. No part of him ought to have ever wanted to try.

He’d just have to steel himself up for the end, that was all. Delaying it too long was only going to make it worse. It was—it was abysmal, not having taken care of it already, when he’d been so desperate to do it only the day before. But he couldn’t bring himself to commit just yet. Whether out of cowardice or longing, he didn’t know. He wanted to keep messing around with Gene as long as he could. Have Gene keep looking at him, keep touching him. Keep being with him.

He swallowed thickly, stepped out of the shower, and dried his hair off a bit with a towel, pulling on a bathrobe before heading back out to the living room. Gene was still on that same couch, Hawaii Five-O playing in the background. Jack Lord was really starting to look craggy now.

“You wanna go to bed?”

“This early?” Gene looked a little amused, but Paul thought there might be something else there. Something on the border of disappointment.

“There’s nothing on T.V.”

“Did I play my cards right?”

“You didn’t play them wrong. We can fool around some more. I’ll keep my top off.”

It was a lousy offer for a guy who had girls chomping at the bit to sleep with him, and Paul knew it. But the grin he got in response was enough to make some of his guilt, some of his self-disgust, ease off, if only briefly.

“C’mon, I’ve got an idea.”

Gene followed him to the bedroom affably, taking off his borrowed t-shirt and tossing it on the floor. He didn’t start on his pants, but Paul did for him, unzipping and tugging them down. Gene’s mouth crooked up, uncertain but pleased.

“You’ve got an awfully wide berth for fooling around, Paul.”

“I’ve got an awful lot of practice.” Paul untied his bathrobe but didn’t take it off yet. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing beneath it. His hair was still pretty wet, skin pink from the shower. The musky scent of him was almost gone, rinsed away by the shower and soaps, only readily apparent again when Gene’s hand moved between his thighs. It was kind of a thrill to find that earlier hadn’t been a fluke. Paul just kept getting wet for him easier than even a groupie.

Kissing down his neck as he kept stroking, getting a couple soft grunts in response, Gene wondered what Paul was up to. He was positioned a little awkwardly, legs spread wide, with Gene kneeling in the space between them. Paul kept shifting on the bed, posture a little stiff. Not like yesterday; he just seemed like he was deliberating, anticipating. Gene didn’t think Paul was comfortable enough to pull out any toys or handcuffs. Even light bondage seemed like a little much. Possibly—

“Did you want to 69?”

“Nah, I hate that shit. Give me your hand.”

“Paul, if you’re going to tie me up, I want a striptease first.”

Paul shrugged off the bathrobe and tossed it at him with a grin.

“I’m not gonna tie you up, Jesus. Just give me your hand.”

Impishly, Gene offered the right one, already soaked in Paul’s fluids. He was surprised when Paul took it, grabbing his wrist and pressing Gene’s palm into his cleavage, guiding it up and down. Gene felt a shiver run up his back, dick stiffening to full attention when Paul let go of his hand. The thin streaks of clear fluid left behind were their own promise, one that only got more definite as Paul lowered himself onto the bed, gesturing for Gene to come forward. He did, straddling him carefully, cock resting between his slightly-slick breasts. Paul squeezed them together experimentally, the brief pressure enough to make Gene twitch. Fuck. He hadn’t even fantasized about this one. Fucking Paul against the wall, eating him out--sure, sure. Paul letting him go for a titfuck had been way too far out of the realm of possibility for him to picture.

“It’s enough, right?” Paul’s voice was soft, vaguely pleased. Gene grunted an assent. They were definitely enough. Another squeeze, though Gene hadn’t tried to thrust yet, Paul watching for his reaction. “Figured we could put them to some use.”

“What’re you getting out of this?”

“The same thing you got out of me getting off on your leg. A good view.” Paul reached a hand up, stroking along Gene’s arm. “Now c’mon, I don’t wanna have to put K-Y on my tits.”

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #gene simmons #gene simmons x paul stanley

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 6 years ago

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The Party

*Not my Gif*

Request: Hi! Can I have a Draco Malfoy with prompts 6-11-18-25?? no specific story I just love your work!!

Requested by: @malfoyaddict

6. “God! I hate you! I hate you with everything in me!”

11. “Hold on. Are-Are you jealous?”

18. “How drunk was I?”

25. “I’m not gonna just be your backup.” “I don’t want you to be my backup. I just… I just want you.”

Paring: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Post Date: 6-14-19

Word Count: 3K

~Prompt List~

~Master List~

~Open Requests~

The noise of the party roared behind you as you staggered out of the room, cup in hand while your other is draped over the arm of your best friend, Hermione. You didn’t have many friends, but you and the smart Gryffindor clicked immediately. You both spent hours upon end in the library amongst tables of books and half written on parchments while you study, casually making conversation. It never fazed her that you were a Slytherin, in fact one of the reasons she like you was because of the legendary Slytherin ambition and resourcefulness. You always worked hard for your grades and refused to rely on your family name and house credit, and Hermione always thought you were different than all the other Slytherin’s at Hogwarts. But now here you were, the hard-working student, drunker than you’ve ever been at a party in Slytherin’s common room where someone had to literally go get Hermione Granger because you were too stubborn to leave with someone else.

“Come on H, the party’s back there. Can’t we go and have some fun? We deserve it.” You slurred as you stumbled your weight onto her. She gave you a little chuckle as you groaned.

“Well, maybe you could’ve stayed at the party if you hadn’t drunk as much as you had Y/N. Honestly, how did you even manage to get this drunk?” She asked as you hummed a laughter, trying to walk straight before stopping, leaning over to the wall to throw up. Hermione immediately rushed over to pull your long hair back from your face as she rubbed your back, trying her best to comfort you as you puke your guts out. When you finished you fell against the wall, slumping as Hermione used a cleaning spell to get rid of the evidence of your ‘fun night’ as well as getting the stench of puke off your breath.

“I don’t feel so good, Hermione.” You said as a tall figure made its way around the corner of the corridor. You glanced up before catching sight of Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall in front of you.

“Well, don’t you look like a ray of sunshine.” He quipped as you rolled your eyes, head falling onto Hermione’s shoulder.

“Oh, sod off, you git.” You groaned as you met eyes, lips pulled into a frown as his curled into a smirk. You held his gaze for a few seconds before the laughing of students filled the corridor. You finally turned away from him as Hermione tried to hold back her laughter. She knew Draco and you couldn’t get along if your life depended on it, but she also noticed the blonde-haired boy’s crush on you right away and even though her, Harry, and Ron despise the boy, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him that you seemed to hate him so much. She also knew that there was no way you’d even know he has a crush on you. She would always catch him staring at you when you weren’t looking, or she would catch a slight smile on his face when you would laugh, but whenever he had to talk to you in person it would almost always end up in fighting. But what she didn’t know was you had also fancied the boy, but you didn’t want anyone to know so you kept it a secret limiting your stares to when you were alone and playing off every conversation as if you hated him. She looked in between Draco and you, whose eyes were closed as your brows were knotted, trying to avoid Draco as much as possible. When an idea popped into her head she couldn’t stifle the laugh coming from her as she looked up at Draco.

“Ok Y/N. You want to go back to the party? Fine, go with Malfoy. Have fun.” She said as she nudged your head off her shoulder to look her in the eyes.

“Malfoy?! You want me to go to a party, where they already kicked me out once for being too drunk, with Draco bloody Malfoy?!” you whispered, voice alarmed as you grabbed her hand. She nodded then glanced up at Draco who was just as confused.

“What’s your angle, Granger?” he questioned, head tilted as he stared at her.

“Nothing, Malfoy. Figured she deserves it. Not everything is about you. Just let her have fun, hang out with some people, maybe… meet a guy.” She spat as she cocked her head, Draco widened his eyes as he looked at you. You hadn’t been paying attention as you were trying to get up at the moment. Draco immediately helped you up before you swatted his hands away.

“I can do it.” You grumbled as he chuckled at you. You shot your head up at the sound as his face grew red at being caught. “Alright. Malfoy, to the party.” You stated before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the Slytherin common room for you second run of the night. Draco couldn’t help the feeling in his stomach as he watched you, hearing Hermione’s ‘have fun, but not too much fun, Malfoy.’ Comment before rolling his eyes. When he entered the room the smell of alcohol filled the air as he smirked at the way you picked up a random bottle and started drinking it before grimacing. “That was not good.” You muttered as you threw it behind you and poured yourself a better one, and one that was actually yours.

“Woah, Y/L/N. Think you should watch the drinking here. Don’t want to end up even more bloody drunk than you are.” He whispered as he pulled you into him, his mouth inches away from your ear and you could feel his breath on your skin. Shaking your head, you pulled away glancing up at the boy as you got close to his face, causing his breath to hitch before you smirked and stopped moving.

“Too late, Draco. I’ve already started.” You immediately took a swig of your drink before slowly backing away to the music filling the room as you found Zabini and started to dance with him. Draco watched you with a clenched jaw as you grabbed Blaise, hanging off his shoulder as you both chugged down another cup of some sort of alcohol because at this point Draco wasn’t sure what kind. He didn’t do anything until he saw Zabini wrap his arm around your waist and pull you flush against his body as he leant down to whisper something into your ear in which caused you to laugh. You moved your head before Zabini pressed his lips against yours and Draco watched as you quickly kissed back. He didn’t know what happened but one second, he was watching you from across the room and the next he was pulling you out of the room and up to yours and you were far to drunk to fight him on this. When you reached your room, you swatted your arm from Draco’s grasp before turning to face him.

“What the hell, Malfoy?! I was having fun and you ruined it!” you yelled, words slurred from the load of alcohol running through your system.

“Fun? That’s what you call it? You if you want to go and-and fuck Zabini and least don’t be bloody drunk when you do it!” he yells causing you to smirk at his words.

“Hold on. Are-Are you jealous?” you mocked thinking that the idea was preposterous until he faltered for a second causing your smirk to drop before he tried to defend himself.

“What are you talking about? I’m not jealous, and if I was, I wouldn’t be jealous over you. Throwing yourself at anybody that would take you at a party. Why don’t you just go back to Zabini. Have some fun.” He grunted as you just stared at him, eyes watering as you felt your lip begin to quiver. You stood up straighter as you began to walk closer to him, an almost threatening look on your face as he backed up against a wall.

“You know what, Malfoy? You are an insufferable, arrogant, pompous ass! God! I hate you! I hate you with everything in me! I can’t believe I had actually thought for a second, we could be anything more than this. Just leave Malfoy.” Your voice was harsh as you slammed yourself down on your bed, eyes falling shut so you couldn’t see the shock on his face before he left, wanting to turn back and tell you he wanted more too. But he managed to convince himself that it was just the drinks talking, that you didn’t mean it the same way.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache. You take in your surroundings before realizing you were in your own bed, in your own room yet you had no memory of getting there. You remember drinking and dancing, but the last thing you could remember was hanging onto Blaise before turning around and seeing Draco’s distraught face. You got out of your bed, throwing on a green sweater and shorts before heading down to the common room. When you reached it, the first thing you noticed was how it looked like no party was ever thrown here, not a single thing out of place and the smell of alcohol that dominated the air was gone, leaving the familiar smell of the common room. You glanced around the room at all the kids, some sporting their own hungover looks while some looked to cheery for their own good. But what caught your attention was the Slytherin Prince who was staring intensely a the fire in front of him as Crabbe and Goyle chattered next to him. Sighing, you headed over and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around at your touch, eyes wide as he caught sight of you behind him.

“Look, I racked my brain trying to figure out what happened last night after you pulled me away from Blaise, so I have to ask. How drunk was I?” you quickly ask as Draco continued to stare at you wide eyed. You shift under his gaze before mumbling a forget it and heading back towards your room. You didn’t get far before you heard Draco calling your name.

“What do you want? If you aren’t going to tell me what happened last night, then I don’t want to- mmhp!” you stated before Draco’s lips cut you off. You didn’t kiss back at first while you tried to figure out what was happening, but when you did, you closed your eyes and immediately kissed back. When you didn’t kiss back at first, Draco was worried he had messed everything up. He was just about to pull away and apologize when he felt you kiss back and everything felt complete to him. You pulled apart when you needed to breath, forehead resting on each other’s as you met his eyes, your breath mixing due to the close proximity. “So, that happened.” You whispered as you both chuckled. Draco’s laugh died out as he looked into your eyes.

“Last night, you said you hated me… I don’t know if you remember that or not, but I do.” His voice was soft as you started to remember the fight, remember saying that to him as he said even more to you.

“Yeah, I remember that now. I also remember you had said… some things to me as well.” You said as your gaze fell to the floor. Draco shook his head as he pulled our face up to see his.

“I didn’t mean it. You were right, I was jealous. I was jealous because I saw you drunk and snogging Zabini. I was jealous because… because I wanted that to be me. I was jealous because I fancy you!” he yelled as he gained the attention of students around you. You just stared at him, mouth opened as you processed his words. “Look, I understand if you want to be with him. You and I never got along and I’m not gonna just be your backup-“ Now it was your turn to interrupt him as you threw your body against his. He caught you right before you slammed your lips onto his, silencing his rambles.

“I don’t want you to be my backup. I just… I just want you.” You whisper, eyes locked with his. He grips your waist as he pulls you into him for another quick kiss before smiling down at you.

“So, last night, when you said you hated me? That was a lie?” He joked as you rolled your eyes.

“No Draco, I wasn’t lying. Last night I hated you but now I don’t.” You shrugged as he looked at you confused. “I hated you because last night you were some git who said I sleep around but now you kissed me. So feeling a lot better about the situation now.” You gave him a cheeky smile and he frowned down at you.

“I didn’t mean that. Again I was- I was jealous.” He wrapped his arms around your waist as you threw yours around his neck.

“I know. I get it. But say that again and drunk and sober me will hex you like there’s no tomorrow.”you said as he chuckled.

“Noted. And trust me, I won’t.” He smirked at you as you ruffled his hair.

“Good. So I’m hungover and need water or something.” You grumbled as your head finally reminded you of last night. Draco led you to the couch to sit before heading off to take care of you, wishing that he would’ve just kissed you a long time ago.

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy one shot #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter one shot #hogwarts one shot #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts #draco malfoy fic

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

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Mount Everest Ain’t Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem!reader, Part 16.) - The Final Problem, Part 2.

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Inspired by Formula and Nate Growing Up by Labrinth, composed for Euphoria's original soundtrack.

Warnings: PCP usage, sexual harassment, murder, non-depicted death, violence, gun usage

Word count: 2 K

Read the rest here, babe: PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13 PART 14 PART 15

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers, @analia-analia-analia

Before you do anything bad for the first time, there's that... Feeling. That sick feeling in your stomach which you can feel, but you can't name.

You know. That feeling before you push your cat with its tail. When you puke in your toilette the first time because you drank for the first time. Before you lit up your first cigarette. Before you take the first pill.

It's anticipation mixed with pure fear of the unknown. That's what it is.

And you never had that feeling before going to Fezco's. You never did - it was always the same neighborhood, same people around and your smiley face who opened up the door. But that night was not only freezing your ass.

That night was different. You could feel it in your bones. It was the car you didn't know in front of his door. You watched it with a frown. You didn't know that car.

Could it be another lady who was visiting your boyfriend? That's why he told you that he can't meet you that night under your window? Bullshit. Fezco wasn't capable of having such a big secret hidden away from you. His soul was too pure for that. But... Who was it then?

You didn't know what to do, so you only sat on your bike, watching his door with an open mouth. You felt like you should turn around on your bike, ride to Rue's and please Leslie if you can have a sleepover. No, you couldn't do that either. Your temple was bleeding and Leslie would ask.

You couldn't tell on Fran to Leslie; she would tell your ma and the hell would start again for Fran.

Jules's house. Yeah. That was probably the right choice. Sneak through the back door to her room. She wouldn't be mad at all, you knew that.

But before you could make a move, you felt as your feet froze as the door to Fezco's apartment slowly opened up. It felt like knocking on hell’s door.

At the moment when your eyes made contact, yours and Fezco's, you could see immediate pain and fear. And you started to freeze down even more. He was shaking his head and mouthed breathless and voiceless 'no'. You didn't have any idea what should you do.

It was two men coming out of his apartment. One with tattoos all over his ugly face, the second one was young with something that could be barely called a beard. Your mind connected two dots immediately - it was the seller. Mouse, as Fez and Ash called him. And then Mouse's eyes fell directly on you, sitting on the bike in the middle of the fucking street without having anything to say or do.

Fez could see your temple bleeding, the blood slowly dropping on your cheeks and then the grey sweatshirt and he knew something must've happened to you - because otherwise, you would respect his wish to be alone. But that situation happening around was just fucked up. Ultimately.

"Oh, bro who dat?" - Mouse asked you with a smile. Jesus, that man was just disgusting when he threw a smile at you. You were not far away from puking at any given moment. But you didn't puke - your body was just still frozen down. - "Sweetcheeks. Girl, ya know 'em?" - He asked. Fez was just shaking his head harder at that moment.

But your body almost automatically nodded.

"Looks like I have to be 'ere longer for sweetcheeks, Fezzy." - He laughed and pointed at you. - "Came 'ere. We'll give yo somethin' warm to drink, right, boyos?" - Mouse laughed in a devilish matter.

“Nah. I'm... I'm good. Thank you, kind mister. I will just go home, I just needed to ask something. It can wait.” - You took a firm hold on your bike. Fezco knew that since Mouse has seen you, he won't let you go so easily. Mouse was a psycho when it came to young girls.

Fez still remembered how did Mouse act around with Rue, but he was seriously worried about this time. Because that was a seriously fucked up situation.

“Oh, sweetcheeks. Happiness can’t fuckin’ wait. Come ’ere, we will give yo some.” - He waved his hand at you, so you slowly walked to the door, locking your bike on the terrace.

Mouse had heard about you - he knew you were Fezco’s girlfriend and he even knew heard that sometimes, you help your boyfriend with delivery service. Nobody knew who told on you - but everybody seemed to be aware. Which was terrifying the fuck out of you.

When you entered the door, Mouse put his hand over you and the only thing you did against it was locking your gaze with Fezco. Your eyes were almost empty, terrified and dead.

“Can you... Um... Lend me something? I'm pretty cold.” - You asked Fezco and he looked at Mouse. It was an unsaid question. You needed that you need to ask as calmly as you could until you could cry in Fezco’s arms. Just as you did at your parent’s house when you find out about his source of money. Mouse agreed with a nod, smacking your ass and laughing out loud.

You froze for a second, but then you ran after Fezco into his room, behind some closed door.

“Yo need to be calm and do as I tell ya, ok?” - Fezco whispered and slowly put his rainbow sweatshirt onto your chest. - “I don't ask ya to. Ya need to listen to me. Or we’re all dead.”

“I didn't mean to...” - You took his cheek to your palm, but Fezco was too nervous to even look at you straight. He didn't want to kiss you when his stomach was about to puke. - “I didn't mean to fuck this up, but Fran pushed me on a fucking cabinet and I didn't know where else I should go. I fucking freaked out.”

“We’ll talk when da fucker is gone.” - Fezco answered and left you all alone. So you put his sweatshirt over your head. He was seriously mad at you - and you could tell that he’s scared. For you or of Mouse? You couldn't tell. But one thing was for sure.

His, Ashe’s and your lives fere threatened by that man in his living room.

When you slowly entered the room, they were in the living room - Fezco and Ash sat on the old sofa where you had first slept and Mouse and his friend were on the opposite one. They weren't talking - they were just watching each other and there was a strong tension in the air.

“I think yo can go now, Custer. Make some space for da youn’ sweetcheeks.” - Mouse smiled at his friend. The only thing you could contrate on was your raising heartbeat and dizziness spinning your head. You looked at Fezco, but he was too occupied watching Custer. - “I think that da little one should go too, Fez. Let adults have some fun, am I right?” - He sat up and lit up a cigarette, offering you one as well. You carefully took one and let him lit up it as well since Fez didn't even look at you.

He was all sweaty as his blue eyes watched Custer standing up. Ash looked at Fez with a frown, but Fez nodded and Ash left - he knew where should he hide and wait if the shit goes down. But Custer had left the flat completely and only three of you were sitting in the living room.

Fezco was sweating the living hell out of him at that point, looking at you. Mouse basically let you sit halfway on the couch and halfway on his lap. You were ready to throw up any minute. As you smoked slowly, you closed your eyes and wished for it to end.

Your boyfriend’s eyes didn't leave Mouse’s hand smoothing your upper thigh up and down, teasing him to snap. But you two knew really well how to act cool when the shit around you was going down.

“How do ya do dat, hm?” - Mouse asked Fez and smelled the right side of your neck.

“Do what?” - Fezco answered back, playing with his knuckles nervously.

“Ya have such nice chicks around. Youn’, beautiful play toys. First dat girl with messy hair, now sweetcheeks... How?” - Mouse laid back, leaving his palm on your upper thigh, marking you as his property. That was riding Fezco wild.

“They are a family. Not toys.” - Fezco mumbled. The blood was boiling inside of him, but your eye contact was telling him that he has to stay calm. That you love him and that you trust him with everything you have.

“Tell whatever ya want.” - Mouse chuckled wickedly and searched his pockets. - “I promised you happiness, didn't I?” - He told when you looked at the small plastic bag in his hand. Oh, you did know what it was - the drugs Fezco sometimes bought when you were over at his place. Those hallucinogens.

“I think I'm good. Thank you.” - You smiled politely and tapped the cigarette out. But no wasn't an answer for Mouse. He caught your upper arms tightly, his grip was hurting you so much that you almost started to cry.

“I think yo want to enjoy a bit, sweetcheeks. Yo boyfriend won't let ya?” - Mouse looked at Fezco and slowly leaned to your ear. You closed your eyes firmly and prayed for him letting you go. You didn't want any of it. Then you slowly opened up your eyes and Fezco wasn't even breathing at the moment. You haven't any idea of what you should do next.

So you took it.

And it was the biggest mistake you have ever done in your life.

It was extremely fast as you slipped down to the world of fuckery, that shit was too strong for a non-addict. And both Mouse and Fezco knew it. But at that moment, Fez failed with protecting you. Your mood wasn't good - so the trip could be barely good either.

You saw some scary bullshit just after a few minutes, you got up, held your head, cried and tried to run away. Huge spiders were coming after you, the floor was slippery under your feet and it was cracking, falling apart. You cried and begged Fezco to help, not having a single idea of what is happening.

A sharp sound muttered your cries as you watched a dead body falling next to you. You saw as the blood was slowly dripping onto the carpet below it and screamed because you felt as your body is slowly being covered in that hot, weird something.

Somebody tried to catch you, to stop you, but you cried out loudly and gripped the door, running away into the freezing night. Somebody was calling out your name, but you heard as if you were under the surface of the water. And you didn't stop until you knew that Mouse is not going to follow you there and until you couldn't hear it anymore.

Your drugged body slowly connected the two dots after a long night - somebody was shot at Fezco’s apartment. There was a fucking dead body. And you felt as your heart dropped, as you fell on your knees and cried even louder than before.

It was Fezco. Fezco was shot down. So you ran further and further away, at least you thought you that you are running even if you were crawling in the mud, slamming and slashing into the buildings, falling down on your knees.

You were running away from all of it - those crazy fucking spiders who after you, from the blood covering your hands, arms and legs, slowly drowning you down, you just ran.

But you were afraid that you won't be able to make it at all.

#rue bennett #rue euphoria #fezco #fezco euphoria #euphoria hbo #euphoria #fez euphoria #fezco x reader #fezco imagine #Mount Everest ain't got shit on us #the final problem part 2.#mouse euphoria #custer euphoria

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imastrangeone98 · 5 years ago

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Lost and Found - Chapter 14: Failure

(A/N: no one reads this.... but that’s ok. I didn’t anticipate it being popular anyway XD and besides, I really love writing for this fic, even though it takes a long time for me to visualize everything)

This is horribly written but yeesh XD I still love it

There was a voice.

Faith couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from, but it sounded so familiar...

“...-aith...”

...Could it be?

“엄마?”

“Faith...”

“Mommy?”

“Faith!”

Her eyes flew open. Fear and exhaustion flowed through her; she could barely make out the worried faces of Dante and Lady.

“...What...?” She squinted at them. “What happened?”

“Faith!” Dante sobbed, sweeping her up in his arms and crushing her to his chest. “You’re alive!”

She couldn’t help but smile, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Hi, Dante,” she croaked. “I’m glad to see you.” She reached out to hug Lady. “You too, my friend.”

“Yeah.” Lady sniffled, quickly wiping her eyes. “Good to see you up and kicking.”

The half-demon nuzzled into her shoulder. “How do you feel? Are you... better? Are you whole?”

If she was telling the truth, she felt like she’d been pulverized in a meat grinder. Her legs felt like jelly, and her eyes kept drooping- she was so sleepy. But that clearly wasn’t what he meant.

Her memories. Ripped out of her and tossed into the bone heap like the countless others before her. There was no way she would’ve survived without them...

Her fingers grazed her neck, slowly drifting down to her shoulder.

“You put me back together...?”

“Of course we did,” Lady said, gently massaging her aching shoulder. “We came all this way for you, we sure as hell aren’t leaving you behind.”

“Hell...” Faith mused, glancing at their surroundings... or lack thereof. Darkness covered every part of their landscape. Then she remembered- the shining hand, that kind face-

The pain.

“He absorbed us, didn’t He?”

“Yeah.” Dante huffed. “I don’t think He quite understands what it means to throw a party.”

“Yes.” Faith stumbled to her feet, only to collapse on the pile of bones. “Oh...”

“Yeah.” Lady rubbed her back and slung one of Faith’s arms over her shoulders. “Don’t think about it.”

“Kind of hard not to,” Faith whispered.

Her friend gazed at her, blue-red eyes barely glimmering in the darkness. “I know.”

Dante took hold of her other arm. The two helped her to her feet, then began to walk, her limp body hanging between them. “You probably shouldn’t walk too much, anyway. You’re still recovering.”

Pure exhaustion swept through her body. The darkness blended in so well with her vision. “I’m so sleepy...”

“No!” Dante yelled right by her ear, jolting her back to reality. “Don’t! We don’t know if you’ll wake up again.”

“Right. Sorry...” But she still felt so tired.

Lady stumbled beside her. “Maybe it’s just a side effect from coming back from the dead. Should we let her rest?”

Dante’s answer was immediate: “No. This place is draining her alive. We need to get out of here, and fast.”

“But how?! Have you seen the size of this place...?”

Her friends’ voices were slowly drifting away. She couldn’t focus. God, she was just so tired...

Alive....

Her eyes creaked open. Was there a voice? But it didn’t sound like any she knew...

Stay alive... Voices whispered, soft and gentle, breaths of air in an empty field. Nephilim. Kin. Pure. Escape.

“...How...?” she mumbled, drowsy. “How can I save them...?”

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin of existence. In the madness of this sad earthly scene, only then we are clean. Purify this place, kin of ours. Only then can you be free.

Purify... How could a nephilim purify God Himself? She was a mistake, a living symbol of sin at its highest.

A failure. A reject. Therefore, I will give you purpose.

Faith’s head pounded. Pain pulsed throughout her body, running through her veins, composing her entire being.

“Faith!”

“Oh, shit, what the hell is this?!”

Lady. Dante.

Hands rubbed her shoulders, smooth voices whispered in her ears, urging her to return to reality.

“Stay with me, Faith,” Dante murmured. “Stay with me.”

She clenched her hands, nails biting deep into the skin. She forced herself back to them.

“Always.” She let out a groan. “I... I don’t know what happened.”

“You were fading,” Lady said in a trembling voice. “Your body was literally disappearing. Like it was...”

“Being absorbed,” he completed. “This place is killing you. We need to get out of here, but... Fuck!” He kicked at a skull. “I just... don’t fucking know how!”

He has forgotten, the voices returned. Remind Him.

“Remind Him of what?” Faith asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you hear voices? There’s voices whispering to me.”

Her companions stared at her. Great. She was going crazy. Dante was right- this place was eating her alive, body, mind, and soul.

“Never mind-“

Love. He has forgotten love. The greatest power of all, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. Remind Him.

“But how?”

He has forgotten. But you have not. You never have. Remind Him. You know how. It is in your blood.

“Faith?” Lady rubbed her back. Worry poured off of her. “Maybe you should rest. You seem out of it.”

She didn’t pay attention. In the deep corners of her foggy mind, a faint memory began to resurface.

It is in your blood.

“You and I are meant to be musicians, Faith,” her father once told her, when she had asked him why they practiced the violin every day. “Music is in our blood.”

Music. Remind Him.

He has forgotten love.

The voices said that she hadn’t forgotten it. What did that mean? Didn’t she, though? She had lost everyone she ever loved, everyone she cared about. Who did she have left?

...

“You won’t lose me. I promise.”

...!

“I’ll work hard every day to make myself a better person for you.”

...!!

They were right. She hadn’t forgotten. She had them.

Lady. Someone who looked at the world with a fierce intensity, yet hid a soft side deep inside her heart, brittle as glass- yet it sparkled so brightly when placed in the light in just the right manner. She was someone who was comfortable with being alone, a full moon in a midnight sky, yet she shone brightest when surrounded by others. She had a preference for irises over roses, never failing to point them out to her on a hike.

Dante. A wild man who seemed to take everything placed at his feet in stride, and did a great job at hiding his sensitivity behind a thick layer of nonchalance and brash arrogance. He was someone who was unwilling to admit he was afraid; his actions spoke louder than his words. He preferred leaving slices of pizza on her plate rather than asking her outright if she was hungry.

The scars on her body pulsed with faint, golden light. Reminders of the people she failed. People she loved.

Love. She had it all along.

CRACK!

A grunt of pain escaped her half-demon companion, Devil-Triggered body flickering with draining demonic energy. He rested haphazardly on the small pile of bones next to her, body slowly returning to its human form.

“Fuck,” he huffed, gripping at his side. His exhaustion flowed through her; she nearly sagged with the weight of it. “There’s no exit above us; I flew as high as I could. And I don’t think it’s possible to dig through all these bones.”

“And we already know that there’s no limit to what’s in the middle,” Lady grumbled. “Shit.”

“It’s okay, guys,” Faith said, staggering to her feet. “I have a plan.”

“You do?”

“...I think.” She summoned her violin, which rested heavily in her arms. “I’ll give it a shot.”

She began to play. Can’t Help Falling in Love flowed through the air, and for a brief moment, the ache in her bones began to soothe. A soft golden light bloomed around them, and it illuminated her friends’ faces.

She channeled everything into the song- her love for her family and her friends, her desire to see them live long and happy lives, her desire for Dante and Lady to escape and be happy.

The bones around them seemed to rattle. The golden light around them expanded a little more.

SNAP!

Golden blood dripped down her fingertips. The snapped strings of her violin dangled off the wood like useless lifelines. "Oh, no..."

"Shit!" Lady searched through her pockets with frenzy. "Your hands are bleeding!"

She ignored her friend's attempts at wrapping her cuts. Quickly, Faith sent energy coursing through the instrument, pouring every ounce of hope and joy she could muster into repairing it.

The spruce top began to crack.

She grew desperate. She panicked. "Come on...!"

The bouts splintered. The fingerboard shattered.

Faith stared at the broken wood.

Dread. All she felt was dread.

She had failed them. She had failed everyone.

"What...?" She collapsed on a small bone pile and stared at her blood. "What have I done?"

Dante scooted over to her. "Hey..." He patted her knee. "Hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not!" she sobbed. "I ruined everything! I can't get you all out of here! We're all going to be absorbed, and it's all because I wasn't strong enough!" Her voice clogged in her throat. "No music. No family. No nothing. The voices were wrong. I have nothing left." The tears continued to fall, and her mouth was filled with the taste of salt and anguish. "Nothing."

Silence reemerged from the darkness of His stomach. It coiled around them, much like a snake, squeezing every ounce of life from them, second by second. And Faith was powerless to stop it.

"...Well, that's not very nice," Lady mused. "We're here, aren't we?"

"...Huh?"

"She's right," Dante huffed, swinging an arm over her shoulders. "You haven't forgotten about us, have you?"

"No... Of course not." She felt a warm hand gently run under her eyes, wiping away her tears.

"It's alright," he murmured, tucking her head into his shoulder. The smell of sweat, cinnamon, and gunpowder laced his bare skin. It was comforting, to be surrounded by the warmth of her friends. "You know, this ain't a bad place to die in."

Lady rolled her eyes, but nevertheless rested her head on Faith's shoulder in turn. "Quite frankly, I had much higher expectations for my death."

"Go out in a blaze if glory?" the male guessed.

"That, or just a nice simple death. Falling asleep forever doesn't seem so bad." She moved her head to now rest in the nephilim's lap. "A nap sounds nice."

"Yeah..." His silver hair was beginning to look dull in the encroaching darkness. "Kinda sleepy..."

Drowsiness began to seep through Faith. Suddenly, the thought of resting here was incredibly appealing. After all, she had her friends here with her, keeping her company, keeping her warm.

She continued to watch drop after drop of her blood splatter onto the bones at her feet. Her eyelids began to flutter shut.

Wait, she thought. Before we sleep, I should tell them.

"Lady... Dante..."

Each of them let out a soft hum of acknowledgement.

"I love you. Thank you for being with me... until the end."

"'Course," he replied. Warm lips pressed against her temple. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Ditto," Lady mumbled, nuzzling further into her thigh. "G'night..."

Faith ran a hand through her beloved friend's hair. With the other, she reached up to smooth Dante's shaggy locks. "Goodnight..."

Her scars shifted.

Goodnight, my friends... she thought to them. You're free...

She could rest now.

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

A/N: haha yesss angst mothafucka!! Horribly written but still!!! Yessss

.....sigh but i already have an ending planned so i guess i cant kill her off.... or can i? Muahahahahahahahahaha!!

Edit: read chapter 15! :D

#devil may cry 3 #dmc dante #dmc lady #dmc oc #lost and found

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blackkudos · 5 years ago

Text

Al Green

Albert Leornes Greene (born April 13, 1946), often known as The Reverend Al Green, is an American singer, songwriter and record producer; he is best known for recording a series of soul hit singles in the early 1970s, including "Take Me to the River", "Tired of Being Alone", "I'm Still in Love with You", "Love and Happiness", and his signature song, "Let's Stay Together". After an incident in which his girlfriend committed suicide, Green became an ordained pastor and turned to gospel music. He later returned to secular music.

Green was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995. He was referred to on the museum's site as being "one of the most gifted purveyors of soul music". He has also been referred to as "The Last of the Great Soul Singers". Green is the winner of 11 Grammy Awards, including the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award. He has also received the BMI Icon award and is a Kennedy Center Honors recipient. He was included in the Rolling Stone list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time, ranking at No. 65, as well as its list of the 100 Greatest Singers, at No. 14.

Early life

Albert Leornes Greene was born on April 13, 1946, in Forrest City, Arkansas. The sixth of ten children born to Cora Lee and Robert G. Greene, Jr., a sharecropper, Al began performing with his brothers in a group called the Greene Brothers at around the age of ten. The Greene family relocated to Grand Rapids, Michigan, in the late 1950s. Al was kicked out of the family home while in his teens, after his devoutly religious father caught him listening to Jackie Wilson. He then lived with a prostitute, began hustling, and indulged in recreational drugs.

"I also listened to Mahalia Jackson, all the great gospel singers. But the most important music to me was those hip-shakin’ boys: Wilson Pickett and Elvis Presley. I just loved Elvis Presley. Whatever he got, I went out and bought."

In high school, Al formed a vocal group called Al Greene & the Creations. Two of the group's members, Curtis Rodgers and Palmer James, formed an independent label called Hot Line Music Journal. In 1968, having changed their name to Al Greene & the Soul Mates, they recorded the song "Back Up Train", releasing it on Hot Line Music. The song was a hit on the R&B charts and peaked at Number 46 in the Cash Box Top 100. However, the group's subsequent follow-ups failed to chart, as did their debut album Back Up Train. While performing with the Soul Mates, Green came into contact with Memphis record producer Willie Mitchell, who hired him in 1969 to be a vocalist for a Texas show with Mitchell's band. Following the performance, Mitchell asked Green to sign with his Hi Records label.

Career

Early success

Having noted that Green had been trying to sing like Jackie Wilson, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett, and James Brown, Mitchell became his vocal mentor, coaching him into finding his own voice. Before releasing his first album with Hi, Green removed the final "e" from his name. Subsequently, he released Green Is Blues (1969), which was a moderate success. His follow-up album, Al Green Gets Next to You (1971), featured the hit R&B cover of the Temptations' "I Can't Get Next to You", recorded in a slow blues-oriented version. The album also featured his first significant hit, "Tired of Being Alone", which sold a million copies and was certified gold, becoming the first of eight gold singles Green would release between 1971 and 1974.

Green's next album, Let's Stay Together (January 1972), solidified his place in soul music. The title track was his biggest hit to date, reaching number one on both the Billboard Hot 100 and R&B charts. The album became his first to be certified gold. His follow-up, I'm Still in Love with You (October 1972) went platinum with the help of the singles "Look What You Done for Me" and the title track, both of which went to the top ten on the Hot 100. His next album, Call Me (April 1973) produced three top ten singles: "You Ought to Be with Me", "Call Me (Come Back Home)", and "Here I Am (Come and Take Me)". In addition to these hit singles, Green also had radio hits with songs such as "Love and Happiness", his cover of the Bee Gees' "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart", "Simply Beautiful", "What a Wonderful Thing Love Is", and "Take Me to the River", later covered successfully by new wave band Talking Heads and blues artist Syl Johnson.

Green's album Livin' for You (December 1973) was certified gold. He continued to record successful R&B hits in the next several years including "Livin' for You", "Sha-La-La (Makes Me Happy)" from his album Al Green Explores Your Mind, "Let's Get Married", "L-O-V-E (Love)" and "Full of Fire".

By the time Green released the album, The Belle Album in 1977, however, Green's record sales had plummeted, partially due to Green's own personal issues during this time and his desire to become a minister. His last Hi Records album, Truth n' Time, was released in 1978 and failed to become a success.

Gospel recordings

Continuing to record R&B, Green saw his sales start to slip and drew mixed reviews from critics. In 1979, he injured himself falling off the stage while performing in Cincinnati and took this as a message from God. He then concentrated his energies towards pastoring his church and gospel music.

From 1981 to 1989 Green recorded a series of gospel albums.While still under contract with Hi Records, Green released the 1980 album, The Lord Will Make a Way, his first of six albums on the Christian label Myrrh Records. The title song from the album would later win Green his first of eight Grammy Awards in the Best Soul Gospel Performance category. In 1982, Green co-starred with Patti LaBelle in the Broadway play, "Your Arms Too Short to Box with God". In 1984, director Robert Mugge released a documentary film, Gospel According to Al Green, including interviews about his life and footage from his church. In 1985, he reunited with Willie Mitchell along with Angelo Earl for He Is the Light, his first album for A&M Records. His 1987 follow-up, Soul Survivor, featured the minor hit, "Everything's Gonna Be Alright", which reached number 22 on the Billboard R&B chart, his first top 40 R&B hit since "I Feel Good" in 1978.

Return to secular music

Green returned to secular music in 1988 recording "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" with Annie Lennox. Featured on the soundtrack to the movie, Scrooged, the song became Green's first top 10 pop hit since 1974. Green had a hit in 1989 with "The Message is Love" with producer Arthur Baker. Two years later, he recorded the theme song to the short-lived show Good Sports. In 1993, he signed with RCA and with Baker again as producer, released the album, Don't Look Back. Green received his ninth Grammy award for his collaboration with Lyle Lovett for their duet of "Funny How Time Slips Away". Green's 1995 album, Your Heart's In Good Hands, was released around the time that Green was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The one single released from the album, "Keep On Pushing Love", was described as "invoking the original, sparse sound of his [Green's] early classics."

In 2000, Green released his autobiography, Take Me to the River. Two years later, he earned the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award and recorded a hit R&B duet with Ann Nesby on the song, "Put It On Paper". Green again reunited with Willie Mitchell in 2003 for the album, I Can't Stop. A year later, Green re-recorded his previous song, "Simply Beautiful", with Queen Latifah on the latter's album, The Dana Owens Album. In 2005, Green and Mitchell collaborated on Everything's OK.

Green's 2008 album, Lay It Down, was produced by Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson and James Poyser. It became his first album to reach the top ten since the early 1970s. The album featured a minor R&B hit with the ballad, "Stay with Me (By the Sea)", featuring John Legend and also featuring duets with Anthony Hamilton and Corinne Bailey Rae. During an interview for promotion of the album, Green admitted that he would have liked to duet with Marvin Gaye: "In those days, people didn't sing together like they do now."

In 2009, Green recorded "People Get Ready" with Heather Headley on the album, Oh Happy Day: An All-Star Music Celebration. In 2010, Green performed "Let's Stay Together" on Later... with Jools Holland. On September 13, 2018, Al Green released his first new recording in almost over ten years, "Before the Next Teardrop Falls," most famously recorded by Freddy Fender in 1975. It was produced by Matt Ross-Spang and is part of Amazon Music's new "Produced By" series.

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Al Green among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

Personal life

On October 18, 1974, Green's girlfriend, Mary Woodson, assaulted him and then committed suicide at his Memphis home. Although she was already married with three children, Woodson became upset when Green refused to marry her. She doused him with a pot of boiling grits as he was preparing for bed in the bathroom, causing second-degree burns on his back, stomach, and arms which required skin grafts. Shortly after, Woodson fatally shot herself with his .38 handgun. Police found an apparent suicide note inside Woodson's purse that declared her intentions and her reasons. A few days prior, Green had sent Woodson to convalesce at the home of his friend after she had taken a handful of sleeping pills and slit her wrists. Green cited this incident as a wake-up call to change his life.

Days after Green was released from Baptist Memorial Hospital Memphis, where he was treated for his burns, he was reportedly held hostage at gunpoint by his cousin who demanded that he owed her money. Green refused to press charges.

In 1976, Green established the Full Gospel Tabernacle church in Memphis. Green resides and preaches in Memphis, near Graceland. He is a member of the Prince Hall Masons, the African-American wing of Freemasonry, at the Thirty-Third Degree.

In September 2013, Green's sister Maxine Green was reported missing from her assisted living home in Grand Rapids, Michigan. According to her daughter Lasha, Green has not reached out to the family about his sister. As of March 2020, she is still missing.

Marriages and children

On June 15, 1977, Green married his first wife Shirley Green (née Kyles) in Memphis. Originally from Chicago, she was one of his backing vocalists and an employee at his church. Together they have three daughters. Shirley first filed for divorce in 1978 on the ground of cruelty and irreconcilable differences. She filed again in 1981, charging that Green had subjected her to domestic violence throughout their marriage. Green accused her of cruel and inhuman treatment in a countercomplaint. In a sworn deposition in 1982 as part of her divorce filing, Shirley testified that in 1978 while five months pregnant, Green beat her with a boot for refusing to have sex. The assault resulted in head wounds, one of which required stitches. After the incident she filed for divorce, but they reconciled. According to Shirley, they separated several times when the beatings became "too frequent and too severe." Initially, Green denied beating his wife, but under oath in 1982 he admitted to striking her. Their divorce was finalized in February 1983. Green agreed to pay her $432,800 in alimony and child support. In 1995, the story of Nicole Brown Simpson inspired Shirley to go public with the abuse she endured in order to help other victims.

Green has six children: two sons, Al Green, Jr. and Trevor; four daughters, Alva Lei, Rubi Renee, Kora Kishe (with Shirley Green), and Kala.

Green was reportedly remarried by the 1990s.

Assault charges

Green's former secretary, Linda Wills, filed a $25,000 civil suit against him in 1974. Wills charged that Green beat her and shoved her through a glass door in his Memphis office after a dispute about how much back pay she was entitled to for her duties. The civil suit was dropped because of "conflicting testimony," but in 1975 they settled a $100,000 lawsuit for assault and battery charges.

In 1977, Green and his former organ player Larry Robinson were arrested for assault on Memorial Day in Irving, Texas. According to Robinson, Green and his bodyguards jumped him when he confronted Green about owed money from previous gigs. They both posted bond on a misdemeanor charge.

In 1978, Green was charged with assault and battery for allegedly beating Lovie Smith unconscious with a tree limb. The charges were dismissed after Smith, who had moved, did not receive a subpoena and therefore missed the court date.

Discography

Awards and honors

Green has been nominated for 21 Grammy Awards, winning 11, including the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award. Two of his songs, "Let's Stay Together" and "Take Me To the River" have been inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame.

Green was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995. In 2004, he was inducted into the Gospel Music Association's Gospel Music Hall of Fame. That same year, he was inducted into The Songwriters Hall of Fame. Also in 2004, Rolling Stone magazine ranked him No. 65 on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time. He was honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award at the 2009 BET Awards on June 24, 2009.

On August 26, 2004, Green was honored as a BMI Icon at the annual BMI Urban Awards. He joined a list of previous Icon honorees that included R&B legends James Brown, Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Bo Diddley.

In 2009, Al Green was inducted into the Michigan Rock and Roll Legends Hall of Fame.

Green was recognized on December 7, 2014, as a Kennedy Center Honors recipient.

#04/13

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imperiousphasmid · 5 years ago

Note

14 for the ask meme?

y’all really got me writing that good angst lol

thanks for the prompt and thanks for waiting!! here you are hope you like it!

edit: did a little editing and posted to AO3! (link in the replies)

14. “Hey, I’m with you, ok? Always.”

Thereare more reasons than one why Aziraphale doesn’t usually engage in the act ofsleeping.

Heenjoys Crowley’s company, enjoys being close to him, and has made it a habitover the last few months since moving in together to indulge him at night.Usually, this means curling up beside him in their bed, letting Crowley clingto him while he continues to stay awake – sometimes reading, with a cup ofcocoa on the nightstand, sometimes just watching over Crowley. Drinking in thesweet serenity that falls over his sleeping face, carding fingers through hishair, basking in the warmth radiating from his skin.

Oncein a while, unplanned, Aziraphale drifts off to sleep next to him. When hedoes, it is normally restless and short-lived. Because nowadays, on the rareinstances that Aziraphale actually sleeps, he tends to dream.

Itis on one such occasion that he jolts awake in bed with one hand fisted tightin the sheets. He sucks in a sharp, trembling breath as he props himself up onan elbow. It takes a long, tension-filled moment for him to orient himself inthe darkness – to realize that he is, in fact, still in bed. The bed he shareswith Crowley in the cottage he shares with Crowley in the South Downs. Theirown little corner of the earth, carved out into a shape that fits exactly tothem.

He’ssafe.

Herelaxes just marginally, squinting into the room. He doesn’t remember fallingasleep, nonetheless when. He neverkeeps track of the time at night except to trace his fingers over Crowley’sdelicate cheekbones under the glowing eye of the morning sun. To kiss him as hewakes. He hardly keeps track of time atall, these days. But, from what he can tell, right now there is no hint ofany sunlight to be able to look overthem through the slits in the blinds. None whatsoever. It must still be themiddle of the night. Which means Crowley-

One hand reaches automatically around behind him, feeling for the familiar, warm, man-shaped lump of quilt that he knows must be there. He stops short.

Twisting around to look only confirms what his flailing hand had already found to be true.

The bed is empty. (Save, of course, for himself.) There is nothing there but some rumpled blankets and a gaping void of too-empty, cold air that definitely shouldn’t be.

Aziraphale forgets how to breathe.

The sheets that crumple beneath the desperate grasp of his digging fingersdon’t even hold warmth.

Panicbubbles up into his chest, an icicle at subzero that rends every bit of himfrom his ears down to his stomach entirely useless, strangling him from theinside out. Crowley.

Imagesplay unbidden behind his eyelids, still fresh in his mind, burned black againsthis unconscious thoughts.

Theshapes of hands clawing at skin, at hair, dragging, drowning. Crowley. His skin, shattered like silk-spun glass butsomehow still holding him together, what’s left of him a fragile, pitifulthing. Black seeping from the razor drawn cracks in his skin – oozing out inkystains against a porcelain tub. His mouth open in a wordless scream.

Aziraphale swings his legs over the edge of the bed and tries to push himself to a stand, but his shaking limbs won’t obey. His mouth forms the shape of Crowley’s name, but the cry gets stuck halfway through his throat and comes out nothing more than a garbled, desperate nose.

He can’t- There’s no time for this. Where could Crowley have gone? He needs to find him, needs to-

Thebedroom door swings open on well-oiled hinges. Midnight light that has managedto fight its way through the sitting room windows sneaks in through theopening, illuminating the dark silhouette of a familiar figure.

Crowley freezes in the doorway, hand still on the knob.

“Oh!” he says, abrupt and pitchy. “You’re awake. Um. I-I just- Aziraphale?”

In the blink of a serpent’s eye, Crowley has entered the room, leaving the door half-open behind him. He crouches at the side of the bed, hands resting warm and steady on Aziraphale’s knees – a grounding touch.

“What happened?” he croaks, turning wide, beseeching eyes up at Aziraphale with barely-concealed panic. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale reaches shaky hands outward, running them across Crowley’s shoulders, down his arms, through the feathery waves of his hair. Crowley is solid and warm beneath his touch. An anchoring presence. Real.

“Crowley,” he gasps, small and broken. Cracks across skin.

“Right here, angel,” Crowley murmurs, offering him a crooked smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He runs his hands soothingly up the outsides of Aziraphale’s thighs. “Talk to me.”

Crowley almost goes tumbling backwards when, a moment later, he finds himself with a lap full of quivering angel. Aziraphale clings tight, arms slung around his shoulders and face buried in his neck. Crowley holds him close with one arm encircling his back. His other guides Aziraphale’s hair back from his forehead and only stops when it’s cupping his jaw, fingertips against his heartbeat, holding his gaze steady.

“Nightmare,” he admits just above a whisper. Traces a finger down the arch of Crowley’s nose. Uncracked. Whole. “Then I woke up and you- you were-”

“In the kitchen,” Crowley finishes. “Got up to stretch and then got peckish.”

“Right,” Aziraphale sighs, voice still sounding rusty. “Of course. How silly of me…”

“Not silly,” Crowley grunts. Pecks a kiss against Aziraphale’s forehead. Bites his lip. “What about?”

“Hmm?”

“Your nightmare. What was-?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinks at him for a beat. And then he shudders, pressing himself impossibly closer against Crowley’s chest.

“You don’t have to say. If you don’t want to.”

Aziraphaleshakes his head mutely. His hands wander the surface of Crowley’s body,everywhere they can reach – along his thin arms, down the side of his angled face,through his fire-burnt hair. Taking inventory. Still there.

“It was- It was about you,” Aziraphale says, quietly. He doesn’t miss the flash of panic that dances in Crowley’s eyes. “No, not like- What I mean is that- that Hell took you, or perhaps Heaven. Possibly both. And they-” He swallows, grip tightening where his fingers are wrapped around Crowley’s wrist. “Well, they finished what they’d started.”

“I see,” Crowley says, face melting into an expression of understanding. He twists his hand free of Aziraphale’s grasp but doesn’t go far, only turning it so he can thread their fingers together instead.

“And then, like I said. I woke up and you were-” Aziraphale blurts, breath coming once again in harsh, shallow bursts. “You were gone, Crowley. And I didn’t know what to do. I can’t- I can’t lose you, I don’t know what-”

“Hey. Hey,” Crowley shushes, caressing his thumb over Aziraphale’s fingers to urge him to loosen his titanium grip. He rubs little circles into the small of his back. “I’m with you, ok? Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, but-”

“But, if heaven and hell decided to stop minding their own blessed business, I have you,” Crowley interrupts, fixing him with a serious look. “You’re on my side, and that’s all I ever need. I pity anyone who ever has the misfortune of inciting the full force of your celestial fury.”

Aziraphale cracks a wobbly smile and Crowley’s lips twitch up to match it. They sink further into each other’s arms, held upright only by the way they lean together.

“You’re right, of course,” Aziraphale sighs.

Violence isn’t necessarily his preferred first course of action, but he is by no means incapable of committing it. Even now, thinking about having Crowley stolen away from him, underneath the immediate predilection he has for despair bubbles a sense of vengeance fuelled by something in between righteous fury and hellish wrath. The intensity of it, even trickling beneath the surface, is almost enough to scare him. Almost.

“Is there anything else I can do? Do you need anything?” Crowley asks after a beat.

“Just you,” Aziraphale answers, raw with honesty.

He cups Crowley’s flushed face between his hands; he can feel the warmth of his blush against his palms – real, tangible, and all for him.

“You have me,” Crowley whispers with tenderness enough to make Aziraphale melt.

He pulls Crowley in for a hungry kiss. Love seeps golden bright through every pore of his skin, echoed in the soft movements of his lips, heady and all-encompassing. Aziraphale is dizzy with the rush of it.

After a long minute of this, Aziraphale tilts his head and presses forward and Crowley makes a noise of surprise into his mouth. He jerks back- Or, no, what really happens is that he falls back, catching himself on his hand before he can topple all the way to the ground.

Aziraphale steadies a hand against his chest, blinking into golden eyes that are lower than they had been a moment ago.

“Hello,” he says, smiling.

“Hi.” Crowley flashes him a brilliant grin. “Not that I’m not loving this, angel, but what do you say about moving back to the bed, hmm?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale chuckles, wiggling in place atop Crowley’s lap. “I think, perhaps, that would be more comfortable.”

He lifts himself away and stands, offering a hand to Crowley, who accepts it and pulls himself off the floor.

They climb back into bed together. (A task made more difficult by the fact that they refuse to release one another’s hands; but they make it work.) Once settled under the covers, Crowley lifts one arm and Aziraphale happily curls into his side, kissing at his jaw.

“Plan on going back to sleep?” Crowley asks around a yawn.

Aziraphale hums against the hollow of his throat, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin just to hear him hiss.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he answers, trailing hand lightly down Crowley’s flank. “Admittedly, I’m thinking of a number of more interesting things that we could do instead.”

“I might not be opposed,” Crowley teases. When he tips Aziraphale’s chin up with a finger in order to steal a kiss, he is smiling but his expression is earnest. “But if you do decide to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up. Always.”

#skysight49 #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #imp answers #imp writes

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