#like the 'hop on (game) (name)' ones alone i have around 100 of them for specific games and specific people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ct-multifandom · 3 years ago

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Miracuclass Amogus Cringe

I was going back and forth about making this post, but then I saw @charming-mage ‘s and I was like screw it we’re doing this. This ended up 10x longer than I thought it’d be.

Marinette (crewmate) - tries to organize everyone into a buddy system to corner the impostors, gets frustrated when people agree to her plan and then start running rogue. When discussions start she’s leading the conversation and asking the most questions. She greatly prefers crewmate over impostor because she likes the mystery solving element of discussions.

Marinette (impostor) - whenever she kills someone she goes, “ahhhh” out loud and panics while her avatar sprints away from the body. She likes coming up with convoluted plans, especially when she can communicate with her fellow imp(s), and tries to make it seem like she’s in two places at once wether it be through venting or falsified testimony.

Adrien (crewmate) - he has to unmute and ask how to do like every individual task to the point where he’s been voted out over it before because cmon, you’ve gotta be lying about it at this point, just piece it together and stop unmuting during task time. He makes puns and sings little improvised songs while tasking. When he suspects someone but they don’t get voted out, he offers to tail them at the cost of his own safety. Same with fixing sabotages late-game. To him, getting killed is just part of the game progression, and it’s not a big deal because he trusts his fellow crewmates to avenge him and doesn’t mind ghost-tasking.

Adrien (impostor) - okay maybe he lies about not knowing tasks sometimes. But it also took him a while to learn imp mechanics and he kept asking about them out loud like, “what’s the red square task on the floor? Why’s my name highlighted?” And somehow nobody noticed while his partner(s) were like nggggg Adrien no... At least he’s good at playing innocent/fake-detective-ing in discussions. Whenever he kills someone he makes some stupid one-liner about it out loud.

Alya (crewmate) - we got Sherlock Holmes over here. She overanalyzes every tiny detail and isn’t scared to sacrifice the sus for the greater cause. When she finishes tasks, she likes to hang out by security and snoop in case of the rare satisfaction of catching someone red-handed. If there’s an emergency meeting, it’s probably because she probably saw something. She supports Crewinette’s plans to corner the imps. She thinks tasks wins are boring and that it’s a lot more fun to win through voting correctly. If they task-win or lose she stops before the new game and asks who the imps were and for a recap of their actions.

Alya (impostor) - a force to be reckoned with. She’ll wait for the perfect moment to strike someone, and then cover her tracks, join a group and win herself a strong alibi anyways. Her reputation as a ruthless detective protects her, even when the game is set to show that the ejected person was innocent. She always chooses someone to kill and someone to blame for it, but sometimes she gets carried away and they vote her off for pointing too many fingers.

Nino (crewmate) - he’s just tasking, man. If he gets killed he’s like, “oh mf” and just keeps ghost-tasking. He mostly hangs out during the discussions unless he has something solid to say, only jumping in at the end to confirm, “so we’re voting for _?”. He leads his own little crewmate squad around when he finishes tasks to protect them while they finish theirs.

Nino (impostor) - mostly plays off the strategy of his partner(s). He likes playing the protective team-player type “innocent diversion” role while the partner(s) get to killing, so when discussions start he’s totally in the clear, which gives him an opening to dodge suspicion in the future if he needs to take over killing. He pretends to fix sabotages all the time because people rely on him to do that as a crewmate.

Max (crewmate) - freakishly good at the card scanning task. People always ask for his secret and he’s like? It’s so easy? He has every map memorized to a t so he can point out the contradictions in people’s stories like an ace attorney character. It’s surprisingly really helpful. He’s the opposite of Alya in that he’s a big supporter of the “guys, stop voting off random innocent people, we have like five tasks left. Whoever hasn’t done them, just finish them” strategy.

Max (impostor) - he tries his best to protect his partner(s) in the discussion while laying low himself, and sometimes he gets voted out for it, but if he senses that there’s nothing he can do, he’ll throw them even further under the bus to build credit for himself. He doesn’t like sacrificing innocents as a crewmate, so his defenses are only sus when he’s caught being wrong. He sabotages a lot to control people’s movements and vents liberally unless he committed to a tasking group. That being said, he can go whole rounds without killing out of caution.

Kim (crewmate) - he’s the guy who calls emergency meetings early into the game only to say, “I miss you guys :)” He gets voted out all the time for doing troll-y crap and ignoring Crewinette’s plans. He’s also severely confused by some of the tasks and game mechanics, but fakes it till he makes it, until the discussion where he rarely says anything valuable and just jokes around. Sometimes, though, he’ll offer a tiny offhand detail and everyone’s like Kim, I hate to say it, but you’re a genius or that’s the piece we’ve been missing! And he’s like haha ok. He’s always behind on tasks, sometimes out of laziness, sometimes out of confusion, but he’s one of the people Max is impatiently waiting on.

Kim (impostor) - he gets caught in the act a lot and it’s hilarious, but other times he gets away with everything the entire time, which is kinda scary. He’s weirdly good at introducing so much confusion and derailment to discussions that everyone gets totally lost and doesn’t know what’s going on, allowing him to survive when they could’ve easily figured him out. Unlike Max, he knows literally nothing about the maps and always says he was at the “slidey thing” or whatever and everyone’s like idk wtf the slidey thing is, and if this were anyone else they’d be gone immediately, but it’s Kim so he might actually be telling the truth. He refuses to learn the names of anything because this really helps him out.

Alix (crewmate) - always trying to convince her friends to experiment with ridiculous game settings. Occasionally, she gets to them, and they get games with comically unbalanced imp:crew ratios, awful lighting, an overwhelming load or lack of tasks, or hilariously low cool downs. She revels in the chaos. When she tasks she usually moves from place to place alone but tries to hop in with groups to confirm her movements. She’s pretty good at sussing imps out when they offer enough information, but otherwise she just makes goofy comments with Kim.

Alix (impostor) - not too worried about killing people and venting. She moves fast and dashes from place to place, joining a group on the opposite side of the map from her last body. If anyone says, “I saw someone vent but I didn’t see who” it was probably her. She likes the “stand in a clump and watch the chaos ensue when one person drops” technique as well as the gambling “hope that the UI for the task everyone’s doing covers your killing and venting” strat. Sometimes she’s forced to vent to a dead end and gets caught, and sometimes the big brain detectives catch her, but she’s usually pretty smooth.

Rose (crewmate) - a big fan of hide and seek mode. She likes grouping up for tasks, protecting each other at the cost of efficiency. During discussions, she has a hard time believing anyone’s the impostor, and everyone’s like, Rose, we know there are exactly three of them, you can’t defend every individual person. Whenever she gets killed she is like *gasp* et tu, Brute? No matter who it was.

Rose (impostor) - runs around with her squad when... oops... looks like something got sabotaged! Uh oh, wonder who could’ve done that? She’s in a battle against that task bar more so than the players, and tries to stay away from killing. She emulates crewmate behavior perfectly so no one ever suspects her until really late. If she’s the only imp left and she has to kill, it’s like an Agatha Christie locked room mystery level of drama and betrayal within her squad. But we were all together the whole time... omfg no way... it was one of us.

Juleka (crewmate) - she secretly prefers when everyone tasks alone, but goes with the squad for Rose. She only talks in discussions if she’s 100% sure about something, and she often incomprehensibly mumbles vital evidence. ~10 minutes later when they catch the imp she’s like iItoldyouso and the crew’s like ??? If she gets killed and her tasks are done, she haunts that impostor relentlessly. Sometimes she even organizes ghost brigades in ghost chat and gets everyone to follow them.

Juleka (impostor) - definitely gets a kick out of the kill button. Whenever she takes someone down she’s like heeheehee. If she was peer pressured into a task team again, she’ll anxiously try to slip away unnoticed for a second to catch someone in the hallway outside, but if she’s alone, she’s on a hunt. Nobody is safe. When she defends herself on voice chat she also mumbles incomprehensibly and everyone’s like sure, fair enough.

Mylene (crewmate) - seasoned task group leader. She also sings little task songs like Adrien. She tries to organize people into chatting regular status updates so they can tell if someone goes missing. She reports every body she finds and actively participates in the discussion, but whenever she makes good points, she gets overlooked. Then, the crew’s like Mylene, why didn’t you say anything sooner? And she’s like agjdjdhh Either that or she gets voted off for always reporting and being too eager to discuss on top of it.

Mylene (impostor) - gets her partner(s) inside her team and tries to tag-team anyone passing by, only for all the impostors to have alibis when she reports. If the ratio is right, they can destroy their own group, and then immediately point the finger at whoever is left, which works about half the time. Mylene is a pretty convincing actress, but the high IQ tricks only work a couple times.

Ivan (crewmate) - he’ll take one for the team if he has to, especially in those sabotage cases where you’d have to be isolated and vulnerable. Otherwise he’ll protect his group. He has an “innocent until proven guilty” attitude when he runs into other people on the map, and skips during a lot of the votes.

Ivan (impostor) - we all know he can’t lie to save his life. He usually gets voted out really fast if he kills someone because he gets nervous and starts saying contradictory things when questioned. That being said, he’ll do what he can to keep his partner(s) in the clear. He never vents because the risk is too high for him, instead just running around and saying, “sorry” out loud when he catches a victim.

Nathaniel (crewmate) - he’s the opposite of Adrien in that he’ll do anything to avoid getting killed. He runs around tasking on his own, but he’s usually behind because he’s so focused on avoiding everyone, to Max’s frustration. He also never reports bodies. This causes him to be sus at all times, so he gets voted out a lot. Wild Nath sightings are rare and terrifying because he’s never in the clear and he’s just standing there, menacingly. Imp!Alix sees him as a fun combo of Where’s Waldo and Assassin.

Nathaniel (impostor) - the millisecond that cool down timer runs out, someone is getting killed. Hit and run. He’s good at entering a fairly crowded large space, striking, and staying in everyone’s blind spots while he runs away, especially when the lights are out. He likes venting to isolated areas and killing as many people per round as he can, laughing when someone finally reports and everyone unmutes to go WHAT!? at the number of deaths. He tends to operate separately from his partner(s) unless they have an actual plan.

Chloe (crewmate) - gathers every single person in medbay and makes sure they all watch her scan. Yeah okay, we get, you’re a crewmate. She feels personally offended whenever someone kills her, which is often, since people tend to jokingly target her. During discussions, she accuses anyone and everyone of being sus, even if she just walked past them or saw them tasking alone. She likes stalking people as a ghost and spilling tea in ghost chat.

Chloe (impostor) - reacts similarly to Marinette when she kills. She will throw her partner(s) under the bus if it’s more advantageous in the long run, and she’s great at shifting the blame to innocents. People vote her out a lot anyways, and she says she can’t believe that they even like this stupid little game. Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Unless she wins. Then it’s fun.

Sabrina (crewmate) - discussion detective supreme. She keeps track of every piece of evidence and testimony, every detail. She tails the sus at a distance, trying to catch them doing something. Sometimes it gets her targeted, but sometimes she catches them and calls emergency meetings to snitch. Somehow she manages to do this and finish her tasks at the same time.

Sabrina (impostor) - sabotages everything, and tries to get her partner(s) to do it too. Once she won because the crew just didn’t fix O2 in time. She avoids killing Chloe, but feels bad if she has to kill anyone else too. She typically just sticks to making other people seem suspicious, and likes the game mode where you can’t see if you voted correctly or not.

Lila (both) - she rarely joins these games. She isn’t even a member of the chat group they use. They occasionally invite her, and she usually lies about how busy she is, but she accepted a couple times to further her narrative. She pretends to be really bad at being an impostor to establish herself as someone incapable of trickery. Regardless of her role, whenever the body announcement pops up, she goes, “oh nooo, not [victim(s)]... nooo....” and Mari’s like stfu Lila.

Bonus Polaroid kids because,,, they <3

Kagami (crewmate) - hella efficient at tasks. Two discussions in and she’s done. She’s the interrogation specialist who stresses out the imps and crew alike with her barrage of questions. She likes moving either alone or in partners, three people maximum, unless Crewinette needs her, in which case she’ll stick to the plan no matter what.

Kagami (impostor) - you’re walking through the base / there’s no one around and comms are down / out of the corner of your eye you spot her / Kagami Tsurugi. She will have you cornered and you won’t be able to do anything about it. She always has a made up explanation for what she was doing, but sometimes it falls through solely because she’s always acting sus.

Luka (crewmate) - he likes crewmate a lot more than impostor. He’ll tag along with a task group until he’s done, and then he’ll go lurk in the corner and spy on people. He moves along the walls, and a few times this has led to him witnessing murders in the middle of the room while the imp only saw him after it was too late. Cue the mad dash for emergency meeting.

Luka (impostor) - works together with his partner(s) to perform some high level backstabbery. He rarely gets voted out unless he messes up because he builds bonds of trust with like half of the crew while he leads the rest into his partner(s)’ traps. He feels bad about killing sometimes, but he doesn’t mind sabotaging.

Zoe (crewmate) - she finds one or two other people she trusts and follows them around. She uses the logic of “well we could’ve both killed each other by now but we didn’t so they must be safe”. She immediately recounts everything that happened to her that round in discussions, even irrelevant details, just in case they might end up useful, and tends to bandwagon with voting.

Zoe (impostor) - tries to catch people in secluded corners or rooms with closable doors to kill them. She avoids taking risks, but sometimes she reports her own bodies and tries to act all surprised by the discovery. She’s a good actress, but she’s not the best bs artist, although the crew is used to her giving a ton of details right from the start, so they don’t suspect her unless there’s a hole in her story.

Marc (crewmate) - does tasks on his own but makes sure to stop near crowds when he can. Whenever he’s running around alone and sees someone else, he immediately turns around like ohmygodohmygod and anxiously dances around the other person who’s more than likely just another, equally anxious crewmate with places to be. He still gets killed a lot.

Marc (impostor) - he goes full anime villain mode. All according to keikaku. He’s one of those people who disproportionately rolls the impostor role and ends up with it like twice every five games. He plans out every move he’s gonna make, every complex lie and big brain play, and sometimes he gets that glorious evil win, but sometimes his plans are totally sabotaged by stupid things like Kim’s trolling.

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

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Late

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry has a reputation that makes you cautious and it’s caused some disagreements. Everyone thinks you hate each other, but maybe you don’t as much as you let on. (fluffy ending, and idk, maybe angst depending on your definition).

Words: 2880

Notes/Warnings: I made this like mid-20s Henry during the Tudors filming, season 1. If I messed up with tenses somewhere, I’d like it of you let me know. I started this story out in the past-tense then changed it to present so I might have missed some stuff when editing, even after reading it 100 times over.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hop up from your sunken spot on the couch. After the day you had, the Chinese food on the other side of that wood slab is the only thing with the ability to help you recover before you must face a fresh 5 a.m. morning with Henry tomorrow.

God, you want that man to fall off the face of the earth. You don’t care if his disappearance meant you would temporarily be out of a job. Being an assistant on the set of The Tudors was something you had strongly considered sacrificing in the past if it meant never having to work with one very particular, blue-eyed, temperamental actor ever again.

You almost quit weeks ago but told yourself to suck it up. You can’t afford to unintentionally cause drama at your workplace, not after your last job; and getting that kind of reputation is not what you are going for. Besides, filming for the first season is almost over, and you will gladly welcome the long break before everyone needs to report back for season two.

The smile you were fully prepared to give the delivery man falls entirely at the sight on the other side of the door.

“What the hell are you doing here,” You huff out.

Henry crosses his thick arms over his even thicker chest and frowns back at you. “I didn’t get my script.”

A headache is already forming just from his proximity and you don’t bother resisting the urge to rub at your temple. “Well, I sent it to your house a week ago.”

“And I didn’t get it, so clearly you didn’t do a very good job.”

With an eye-roll, you say, “Is there some reason you had to come all the way to my apartment and bug me for the script when I will see you first thing in the morning?”

“Everyone else will have had theirs longer, and I wanted to get a good start on learning my lines, so yes, I have a good reason for ‘bugging’ you, Y/N.”

You hate the way he says your name. It passes his lips so softly every time and makes your heart speed faster than your liking. If another man said your name like that, you’d fall for him in an instant, but no, Henry seemed to be the only man possessing that thick, honey-sweet voice.

“Whatever,” You groan and turn on your heel. In your office desk are two extra copies of each actors’ script for emergencies, but a simple text from Henry would’ve sufficed; this is hardly life or death.

‘Hey, never got my script. Can you bring a copy in the morning?’ So damn easy.

You turn your head back when Henry’s heavy footsteps hit your hardwood floors. “Hey, I didn’t say you could come in,” You snap, eyebrows drawn together.

“What kind of person would leave their guest outside?”

The sass in his tone makes you want to pull your hair right out of your scalp. “You’re not my guest,” You say, but your blatant aggravation does nothing to hinder him and his body is a foot away from yours before you know it. Inches he has on you forces you to look up just to meet the smirk on his face.

“Stop acting like you hate me,” He says as he reaches a hand to grab yours.

“Excuse me?!” You quickly swat that hand away. “I am not acting like anything! Any negative feelings you are sensing from me are one hundred percent genuine.”

Henry scoffs and crosses his arms once again. “Oh, please.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. He is unbelievable. Everything he does, everything he says, everything he is has had the power to make your whole body shake since the day you met him. “God, I can’t stand you!”

Walking away from him for the office, he follows close behind. “You know what, you’re not all that great either!” He yells at your back as you open the drawer of your desk to shuffle through the scripts. “You yap all damn day, talking to everyone else on set and making them laugh! You shoot that pretty smile in any direction and people flock to you like deranged birds!”

“So!” You pull out the script and hand it to Henry. Without giving it a glance, he snatches it from you and tosses it back on the oak wood surface of the desk.

“So? You’re distracting them from their jobs! We could probably get things done twice as fast if you weren’t around!”

“That’s—”

“And you are annoyingly beautiful!” He harshly interrupts. “Annoyingly! The men we work with will not shut up about it and I’m sick of listening to them talk about you the way they do! I end up hearing your name more times in a day than I hear my own, and I get called upon every five seconds! I’m practically forced to think about you!”

You blink at the increase in volume that makes the thin walls of your home quiver.

“I don’t know how many times your face manages to flash in my mind in the course of a week, but it’s starting to get to me!”

Your hands rise in disbelief before they slap back down to your sides. “That’s not my fault! But you’re one to talk! You’re well aware you’re ridiculously, unnaturally hot, and I fucking hate it! The women we work with won’t shut up about you. And you think I’m annoying? Imagine being surrounded by a pack of idiots that go on and on about how amazing you are, when the truth is, you’re so arrogant I can’t stand to be within two feet of you!”

When you try to walk past him, his hand wraps tightly around your upper arm. “Hey!”

“Leave me alone! I hate you!” You snarl at the rage in his eyes and try to shake him off you.

“You don’t hate me.”

You glare up at him. “Oh no?”

He gapes at you, seemingly stunned you have the gall to challenge him. The grip on your arm loosens until you are free. Winding his fingers through his chocolate locks, Henry shakes his head and clenches his jaw. “You are so...”

“So what? So irritating? So infuriating?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If I’m such a problem, then go.” Ignoring his words, you point a finger in the general direction of the nearest exit.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes! Of course, I do!”

He quirks an eyebrow and cocks his head. “So you’re going to grab me with your tiny hands and throw me through the front door, is that right?”

“I can’t fucking lift you!” You yell.

“Then I’m staying!”

“I think you’re really not! You can’t just demand to stay here! That’s not how this works!”

“Why can’t you just—God damn it!” He stomps his way back into the living room, script forgotten, and reaches for the doorknob. You follow him and let out an exhausted breath of relief, but Henry whips around to you again before you have time to revel in the feeling. “You know what, no. I’m not going anywhere until we settle this bullshit between us. I’m not going to argue with you anymore. I’m not going to act like I dislike you. I’m not going to keep playing this game, because it’s clearly not getting me anywhere; in fact, it’s doing the opposite.”

“Getting you anywhere?” You mumble.

“This whole thing is fucking bullshit and I’m over it.” He swallows. “Tell me what I did.”

“What?”

“You keep saying you hate me but have never given me a reason, so what did I do?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you kidding? You were just telling me I suck at my job, yet at the same time you don’t think I have a reason to be mad. You glare at me during work, you act like I’m an inconvenience, you—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Henry grabs your hand, and for a reason you couldn’t place, you allow it this time. “At the beginning, when we met, what was it that caused a problem between us? I’ve gone over our first meeting in my head about a thousand times and cannot figure out how I upset you so much that you’re still mad after months.”

You slip your fingers out of his palm, looking to the floor.

“Please just tell me,” He begs. “Please, I--”

“You sleep with the women you work with.” You spit out.

When he stares at you in confusion, you wince and say, “I have this friend…kinda. She was an extra on Hellraiser and claimed that you slept with nearly every woman on set, herself included. When I told her I got this job she said you’d probably try to get in my pants if I wasn’t careful, and I’m not cautious enough about men as it is, so—”

“You were mad at me before we met for something I didn’t even do?” He isn’t angry or looking at you like you’ve lost your mind; more like he can’t believe that was all it was. As if he had a simple solution to the problem that planted its roots deep into the both of you months prior.

“Whether or not you did, it’s not like you’ve been an angel to me anyway,” You say.

“Because I fucking panic when someone I want doesn’t want me! And you’ve made it very clear that you do not want me! You always seem so angry and…and I’m not very smooth, ok!? I say shit I don’t mean!”

“So you do want to get in my pants?”

“No!” He says quickly, then after a beat, sighs. “Yes.”

You give no response, so he continues.

“I swear, despite how idiotic I have acted, I really like you, and I don’t know who your friend is or why she would tell you I slept with a bunch of women on set, but I didn’t.”

You have to look away from him. His eyes hold too much sincerity and all it does is confuse you. You have spent too much time pissed to feel comfortable with the idea that it was potentially all for no reason, so you hug your arms across your middle and take a step back from him.

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s late, Henry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You won’t meet his stare but can see from your peripherals his head slowly nod. You don’t look up until your front door closes softly behind him.

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

You spend the earliest hours of the next morning sipping coffee before everyone else arrives for work, wondering if the night before actually happened or if it had just been a very realistic messy mix of a dream and a nightmare.

The sun rises and you watch as it ascends each inch until it’s planted high enough in the sky to warm your skin. He’d be here soon, looking for you, wanting answers for any questions you hadn’t given him the chance to ask.

So, what, he likes me now? He wants me? You can’t wrap your head around it. But you suppose it makes as much sense as you saying you hate him when really what you’ve been is nervous. You don’t want to be used again by some man with more power than you. Pulling yourself out of that hole was hard enough and you have no desire to trip and fall right back in.

“Y/N. You’re here early.”

You jump at the first voice to interrupt the peaceful silence. It was the last moment you’ll have to yourself for the next fifteen hours at least.

Turning your head, you smile at your boss. “Morning, Em.”

“Henry’s here early, too,” She says. “He asked me to let him know when you came in, but seeing as you’re already here, you think you could just head to his trailer now?”

No, you want to say. I’m not ready. “Sure.” You half-heartedly smile, dumping the last of your coffee in the nearest trash can.

Each crunchy step along the gravel to Henry’s trailer feels less sturdy than the one before. Though, he isn’t in his trailer when you find him, but standing out in a grassy patch, throwing a ball to Em’s dog, Leo. It makes your heart pump hard to see him so casually soft. It’s the first time you are looking at him when his eyes aren’t already on you.

Leo loyally returns the ball to Henry three more times before you gather the nerve to step up to his side.

“Em said you wanted to see me.”

You notice him hold in a breath when he registers your voice, then tossing the ball once more, he says, “I’d have gone looking for you myself if I knew you were here.”

You nod, but you’ve yet to look at one another.

“The makeup artists are gonna have a blast today trying to make me look decent,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t sleep all night. I spent it trying to figure out what to say to you but came up short.”

You scratch behind Leo’s large ears when he nudges your legs with his head. Henry gently grins, though you don’t see it. You shrug. “At least you don’t have as many scenes today.”

Henry chuckles. “That’s true.”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say to you either,” You say.

A moment passes as he blows out a deep sigh.

“Y/N…I don’t want to act like it didn’t happen. I know that’s what is easiest, but I meant what I said. The good parts, not the shit about you sucking at your job. You’re the best at your job.”

Finally meeting his eyes, the corners of your lips curve up just a bit.

“But I don’t expect you to feel the same about me.”

“Henry…”

He shakes his head and throws the ball for Leo after the pups persistent whimpering. “I’m not going to make things hard for you. Filming is almost over anyway and if you want, I’ll try to bother you as little as I can. I’m sorry I’ve been an ass, it’s just…you like everyone around here except me, but I’ve liked you more than anyone else since the moment we met. It’s no excuse--”

“It’s ok.”

He looks at you. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. He stares at the touch you give him as you continue. “I didn’t have a good reason for treating you like I hate you, not really.”

“So, you don’t…hate me?”

“…No.” You look away in shame. “And I have a better explanation for that.”

He blinks, clearly relieved that every horrible thing he figured you felt for him was not, in your heart, the truth. “You don’t owe me one.”

“I slept with my boss once,” You rush out. “And, um…got the same warning as I did with you: sleeps with the other women he works with, will try to do the same with me. He did and I let him because I thought he liked me, but…no. All it did was make me feel like an idiot in the end.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I made a mistake.” You shrug. And suddenly, admitting that out loud, confiding in someone, knocks some of the painful gears in your head loose. You’d never told anyone the truth about your past. “Look, this is going to sound really odd but,” You swallow. “…Don’t stop bothering me.”

“Wait,” He turns his body fully to you. “What?”

Your lips thin, but then you smile, inch up on your toes, and go to kiss his cheek. All you wanted to do was provide a little reassurance, to let him know that you now forgive every misunderstanding between you, but the kiss lands a little too far to the right and covers the end of his mouth.

Immediately, you pull back a few centimeters and feel heat flushing your cheeks, but Henry tilts his head the slightest. He takes a breath, giving you a chance to pull back further, but when you make no move to abandon him, he connects your lips again.

It feels good. He feels good. So good it shocks you how much you don’t want it to end. And when you part your lips and his tongue touches yours, you can’t stop your hands from sliding up his chest before roping around his neck and tugging him closer. Only then does he greedily grab at your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your t-shirt.

Leo’s bark separates you minutes later, though you’re reluctant to allow it. You glance at the dog, chuckling at his rapidly wagging tail as he watches the scene before him. But when you look back to Henry, his eyes are already glued to you, their hue a little brighter and a small smile on his face.

“I’ll bother you as much as you like,” He says and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

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*reposted for tag testing reasons.

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chao-writes-stuff · 3 years ago

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DELTARUNE SPOILERS

Heyyy! I wrote a thing involving Jevil and the Chapter 2 Superboss! I'm going to put it under the cut, but at the end, there will also be an Ao3 link if you wanna support me there!

Thank you! Remember to Reblog if you wanna

The Lightner Trio walked down the stairs in the Queen's massive manor, their hurried footsteps echoing like a rough pitter-patter in the technological nightmare. The massive lair confused and bamboozled them, but they definitely wanted to figure out the mystery behind what the Fountains were about, what Queen's true intentions were… and what was in the basement?

"Uhh… Kris?" Ralsei asked, his soft voice echoing out. "Why are we even here? Aren't Queen, Noelle, and Berdly upstairs? And not here…?"

Susie quickly interrupted him, punching his arm lightly to get his attention. "Of COURSE they aren't here. But whatever is here is probably important. Right, Kris?"

"I guess!" The currently blue human replied. "I've been asked by some… guy, about doing these weird favors for him. He really wants me to be alone."

"We sure he ain't a p-" Before Susie could finish her thought, Ralsei muffled her mouth with his scarf. "Who is he? And why does he want you to be alone?"

"His name is Spamton, I think. I don't know much about him, but he gave me this Loaded Disk earlier, and--"

Suddenly, a strange, chaotic voice rang out. Everyone recognized it. The tail attached to Ralsei's cloak popped off, diamonds and hearts flying out with it. The tail spun and took form, and the chaotic Jester they quite literally put to rest yesterday was reawakened.

"Spamton? SPAMTON? The same Spamton who wished for me to go, to go, and be free, free?" Jevil laughed chaotically, with Ralsei caught quite off guard. "You know him?"

"That dorito chip was part of the reason why I was set free, he was! He used to rule this world, before the Queen I've been hearing oh so much about took over. Oh, I MUST know more of how you met that ridiculous lunatic! And that's coming from ME, ME! Spamton, oh Spamton, I'd like to have a word with him~!" Jevil looked quite pissed off, his normally jovial expression looking slightly stern.

"I didn't wanna go down there anyway. Just come back, okay? You're kind of carrying us with your defense boost." Kris, with a neutral expression, gave the clown the disk they were gifted by the malignant salesman, and watched as Jevil immediately sprinted off into the basement. They could hear an echoed "Buh bye~! I'll be back in a few hundred words!" As the jester descended into the decrepit basement below...

Jevil entered the musty, rotting cellar. Despite him rarely stepping on the ground, each step he did take left a haunting impact on his feet. It was silent, save for the occasional rustling of his clothes. He didn't have long to do this. His physical form only had a few hours to be out and about before he solidified, just like the young boy and the puzzle freak. Thankfully, that's all he needed. He was getting excited, almost giddy, to interact once more with his old acquaintance. Oh, what a wonderful conversation they'd have!

He didn't walk for too much longer before he found the train station that was buried deep below. Or was it a roller coaster? Whoever had this built clearly had some elaborate roundabout in mind… too bad they were still imprisoned, haha! Jevil walked and floated across the tracks, reaching a room with a decaying robot inside.

He knew this was a bad idea. But when did he ever have good ideas?

Without hesitating, the joker put the disk into the robot. At first, nothing happened, and he was getting impatient VERY quick. He gave the robot a swift kick in the lower area, before stepping back out of the room.

Step…

SLAM! The clown was admittedly caught off guard with how fast the silhouette from above came and pushed him onto his knees. With a small gasp for air, Jevil looked up slowly at the encroaching menace. The jagged movements, the glitchy, unsolidified form… this was him alright.

"KRIS… MY LOYAL [Sponge!] THANK… YOU. THE [Clown Around Town!] I REMEMBER YOUR [Disgusting] FACE. EVERYONE WAS SO [Thrilled] TO SEE YOUR [Calcified] FACE." The massive robotic behemoth loomed over Jevil, rage in his glasses. Spamton NEO.

The clown got up, a smug, shitfaced expression on his mug. He knew damn well that the dorito in front of him was pissed off, so he leaned back in the air to retort. "At least I drink plenty of milk, uee hee hee! As for you, you haven't changed one bit since we last spoke~! Or would it be a byte, a byte? Regardless, I do hope you've given up on the illusion of freedom, freedom~! The only one who can be free is MEEE!"

The robotic menace swung around to the other side of Jevil, making it very clear who was in charge of the conversation. A small concentrated blast of Pipis was fired at the jester, pushing him back with a surprising amount of force. "YOU ACT SMUG, BUT YOU [Crashed our stocks!] AND THEN YOU [Spoiled relations with our Esteemed Partners!] I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU… GOT IN HERE, YOU… [Tuna Fish,] BUT I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR [Roundabout!] AGAIN!"

Jevil laughed maniacally at this thought. This guy was mad! Over something that happened how long ago? Why even bother holding a grudge still? Petty, petty! He knew why, and it's why he came back too. "You influenced him. That pretty little kitty. You gave him enough funds to release me into that carousel of bliss and innocence! But I wasn't done, not one bit! And all those years, spent being free… they made me realize something, my dearest Spamton."

The oddly calm tone coming from the jester put Spamton NEO at an incredible amount of unease. "WHAT? WHAT COULD YOUR [Calcified Lump] THINK OF THAT WOULD MEAN ANY GODDAMN THING TO ME?"

"I CAN DO ANYTHING!"

The joker used his latent power to pelt the giant mecha with small white hearts. Spamton was caught off-guard, stumbling back a fair amount. Of course, you have to fight fire with fire, so the robot used his abilities to send out a Big Shot of blue Spamton Head Pipis.

"YOU [Saturated Marketshare!] YOU CAN'T SIMPLY ATTACK ME AND EXPECT IT TO WORK [As seen on TV!] I'M A [BIG SHOT!] [BIG SHOT!!!]"

Jevil hopped up onto the ceiling, clearing the first few Pipis on the lower row heading his way. Unfortunately, the higher row caught him clean in the face as he bounced between the two, making a small Jack-in-the-box melody as he pinged around.

"SPAMTON, MY BELOATHED! I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE TRAPPED IN A CAGE WITH A SHARK, A SHARK! YOU GET BITTEN AND CHEWED UP!"

The fool retaliated by running circles around Spamton, turning into a carousel of horse bullets! The robot, in a surprising feat of puppeteering, dodged the attack almost perfectly… until a stray horsie cut a string, sending the mech's right arm into the horse race. One thing about arms with cannons on them? They fire.

As soon as it happened, Jevil was face to face with a swarm of Pipis all around him. He was stuck. All of them exploded brilliantly, sending the clown flying clean across the rotting tracks and into the wall. Tauntingly, mockingly even, Spamton NEO retorted.

"I'M THE SHARK NOW, JEVIL! I'VE CHEWED UP SO MANY [Failed Buisness Partners] THAT I COULD MAKE A WHOLE [Presentation] OUT OF THEM! STAY OUT OF MY GODDAMN WAY, OR [Sparkle like new!] YOU BRAT."

The buisnessman charged at Jevil, his hands becoming phones. "IT'S FOR YOU." Suddenly, before either of them could react, loud blasts of garbage noise manifest expelled from the phones, attacking the court jester with white blasts of energy. There was nothing he could do to stop this robot's onslaught, it looked like.

"OH SPAMTON, IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SO POWERFUL RIGHT NOW, NOW? I'D SUGGEST YOU LOOK UP, UP! YOU'RE NOTHING WITHOUT THOSE STRINGS IMPRISONING YOU, UEE HEE HEE! YOU'RE NOT A BIG SHOT, YOU'RE JUST A LAZY FRAUD WHO CAN'T STOP HANGING ON TO HIM! I GUESS SLEEPING FOR 100 YEARS DOESN'T MAKE LITTLE OLD ME MISS MUCH, RIGHT?"

Without warning, Jevil was myseriously gone from his corner. The spamware looked frantically for his target, before being struck in the arm, the leg, and the chest by scythes. Devilsknives. The last knive cut a few strings clean off the puppet, who briefly hit the ground before rising back up.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! [Hyperlink Blocked.] I'M STILL HIS LOYAL ASSOCIATE! HE MAY NOT HAVE TALKED TO ME IN [Employee of The Month for 144 months!] BUT HE'S STILL THERE…"

Jevil interrupted him cleanly and concisely. "FACE IT. YOU'RE NO BIG SHOT ANYMORE, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. ALL YOU ARE IS A FAILED INVESTMENT, UEE HEE HEE!"

With those words, a purple blast came from behind the clown, striking the robot right in the noggin. He flew back a bit, giving the joker enough time to turn around to meet his esteemed guests.

"Ah, my imprisoners~! Didn't you guys have a Queen to rock-em sock-em?"

Susie immediately cut him off, as she punched him in the arm (causing his head to spring up, naturally.) "Well, Kris over here couldn't shake the feeling things were off. So they forced us down here, and now they're right. Somehow?"

"I know I'm right.. Jevil, who the hell is Spamton?" Kris replied, their worry about the situation starting to rise.

"It's of no concern to you~! His screws were almost as loose as mine, and I don't think it's my job to tighten them~! Uee hee hee! Thank you for the help, but I can do anything~! Even tell you guys that 3 coasters are about to come down and force you guys along for the ride~!"

Ralsei immediately stuttered something out. "Three… what?"

And just like that, with a loud rumbling, the heroes were swept up into 3 old, rusty carts, barrelling down the track. Jevil laughed to himself, proud of what he got to do. "Ah well, it's a shame I can't finish him personally…"

"But oh well! Are you proud, proud? They took care of him…"

"Doctor."

Ao3 Link!

#Deltarune #Deltarune Spoilers #Deltarune Chapter 2 #Jevil #spamton #kris #ralsei #susie #undertale #okay cool thank you byyyyeeeee

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

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Dreams, Chapter 4

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

If you have been reading this series....things are going to start happening....

Title: Dreams, Chapter 4

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3773

Summary: For Sam and the reader, a winter night working together leads to an uncomfortable confrontation and a confusing dream.

Warnings: angst, fluff?, alcohol, swearing, slow burn, I think that’s it!

The tree was still up a few days later when you were throwing together sandwiches. It was a gloomy afternoon, stealing from the already meager offering of sunlight you got each day, but at least you could see the Christmas lights as you worked in the little kitchen and listened to Me Talk Pretty One Day. Brushing crumbs off your hands, you ducked your head into the bedroom to tell Sam lunch was ready.

He was sitting on the bed with his legs crossed under him, looking surprisingly young with his long limbs folded. He glanced over at you briefly with a noncommittal nod before turning his gaze back to the wall. You walked into the room when you understood; following his eyes to the photos where you’d taped them up. Toeing off each of your boots, you climbed onto the mattress with him and gently put your arm around his broad shoulders. “He would’ve loved this,” Sam murmured, and it was almost too low for you to hear.

“Which part?” you asked, trying to match his tone.

“This cabin, the bar, Christmas.”

“I think you’re right.”

You looked over at the pictures, a tight row intentionally placed a little too low so you could see them as you fell asleep. Sam tilted his head to rest on yours.

“We had a lot of fun though, didn’t we?”

You considered the memories and the heat coming off of him under your cold fingers. “Yeah, we did.” After a beat you opened your mouth again. “Getting that tree was fun.”

Sam pulled back and you looked up at him. A sad smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You curved your head back into him. “Dean would’ve liked that too.” He was silent for a moment.

“There’s no way he would’ve worked at the bar and not made every night a party.”

He was right. Even just passing through, bars like the one you worked at were Dean’s favorite—no frills, honest people, décor not so nice it couldn’t tolerate some spills in the name of a good time. In the right mood Dean would’ve been everyone’s best friend in an hour, taking shots with the owners and playing pool with anyone who had a spare minute.

You sat upright and tucked your hair behind your ears. “Okay, then tonight’ll be a party.”

Sam looked at you in surprise. “Uh, what?”

“You heard me. Tonight, we’re doing tequila shots and dancing on tables and talking to people longer than to take their orders.”

“It’s a Monday.”

“Wouldn’t have stopped Dean. Now come eat this sandwich I slaved over, you’re a lightweight on an empty stomach.”

Sam’s smile was tired, but he obediently untangled his legs and got off the bed to head to the kitchen. You padded after him, letting a deep breath out through your nose. Dean would be so pissed if he saw you weren’t being strong for Sammy, just a little tougher, come on. By the time Sam sat down at the tiny breakfast bar to eat, you’d screwed your face back together.

In some ways, it was better that you’d had this sudden change of heart on a Monday, when there weren’t so many customers to watch you crumble if it came to that. You had a propensity for being a sad drunk even in the best circumstances, and this first time truly drinking around people since losing Dean was about the worst circumstance as you could imagine.

A few shots in Sam’s cheeks were flushed and you could feel the heat in yours as you sucked hard on a lime wedge. He was pretending to know about some football controversy with the over-shoulder towel that was ever present when he worked, his legs crossed and accentuating the long, relaxed line of his body. It was an especially cold night and condensation clouded the windows of the bar where hot air met the freezing glass. You watched as a woman about your age—you were pretty sure her name was Megan but had only served her a handful of times—traced lazy shapes in it before replacing the moisture with a hot breath and starting over. It was almost hypnotic and you didn’t know how long it was until you snapped back to reality when Sam’s warm hands wrapped over your shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked, low and private, straight into your ear.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just tired,” you lied.

Sam gently and half-consciously kneaded the muscles in your shoulders. Before you realized what you were doing, muscle memory bobbed your head to the side, kissed his rough knuckles, and pressed your cheek to his hand. You both froze.

“Aw, so cute,” Steve sang out from across the bar top.

You took your chance to step forward out of Sam’s grip. “Yeah, yeah. Refill?” Steve nodded, and you snatched another Miller High Life out of a mini fridge under the bar and popped the cap with a fluid practiced motion. About a week ago you’d realized that the twist-bottle callus you had just below the first joint of your index finger had come back, a recurrent souvenir that had lasted years after you’d quit bartending last time. You were thankful for it as much as the distraction from your bizarre reflexive step over the unspoken boundary between you and Sam. It wasn’t that the contact was unprecedented, obviously, you could only catch even chunks of sleep tightly wound around Sam and kept your fingers wrapped around his forearm as he drove, but Dean was the last person whose skin your lips had touched. Until now, you corrected yourself. It was a very specific kind of closeness in a relationship already stretching the limits of what appropriate intimacy could possibly be.

You jammed a cold metal scoop into the ice machine to break up chunks and buy some time. The same grief-hungry part of your brain that searched Sam for facial tics and habits that Dean had couldn’t stop repeating how much those hands felt the same, dry and warm and firm under your lips, under your cheek, and you wanted to clutch at them, a phantom of Dean’s that first stitched you up in Bobby’s kitchen all those years ago when life was easy and bloody, so nervous to touch you his hands shook and the scar still remained to this day. You crashed through those thoughts with a solid thump of This Is Sam Not Dean Sam Your Friend Sam The Only Thing You Have In This World, and how cruel it was to triple distill him down to only the parts that were reminiscent of someone else. Sam, who chopped wood to keep you warm, who restocked beer in the little life you’d created here. Sam, who in his own unfathomable sadness let you latch onto him as a steady point in a storm and kept you afloat just as you had him.

“Hello?” Joe repeated, a touch of concern peeking through his annoyance.

“Yeah, sorry! What’s up?” you asked, hearing the shrillness of your voice as you tried to overcompensate.

“I’m trying to buy you a drink, hon. 5 shots, dealer’s choice.”

“You, me, Jake, Steve and who?” you asked, racking up 5 sturdy shot glasses.

“Your Paul Bunyan over there, unless you’re trying to take his too. I’ve never seen you guys really drink before, gotta jump on my chance,” he winked.

“Oh, okay. Uh, Sam—” you called out across the bar. He was wiping up a spill you knew didn’t exist from the way he focused too hard on the bar top, trying to look busy. He looked up at his name and walked over with his hands jammed in his pockets. His unease was palpable, and your heart sank as you let go of any possibility that he wouldn’t have registered the fleeting kiss and the shift was only in your head. “—Joe’s trying to get you drunk.”

“Careful, Joe, you think you can carry me home?” Sam joked, and you thought you would be the only one who’d be able to detect the tightness in his throat underneath it. He rubbed a lime wedge on the web of his thumb and poured salt over it before handing you the shaker. You almost dropped it when your fingertips grazed his.

“To the only people dumb enough to move up here in the winter,” Steve proclaimed, touching his glass to the counter before shooting it. You all followed suit, politely chuckling at the teasing. When you took the lime wedge out of your mouth, Sam had his palm open in front of you. You dropped the rind in his hand and let him take the stack of glasses to the sink.

It didn’t get as crazy as Dean likely would’ve gotten which was probably good for the bar’s bottom line and your drive back to the cabin, but Sam did end up somewhat accidentally hustling Jake for $100 over a game of pool and singing along to Shania Twain when you put it on. You were careful not to touch him or stare too long the rest of the evening, and by the time you were flipping chairs up for the night you had almost convinced yourself that nothing was different save for a little softness around the edges of the ever-present bolus of sadness in your stomach.

Sam had two cases of Miller Lite from the basement in his grip, the veins on his forearms popping out as he set them on the ground in front of the beer cooler and crouched to replace the ones that had been drunk that night. You double checked that the cash drawer of the register was even and hopped up to sit on a spare spot of counter.

“That’s the last one?”

“Yeah, I already did the Coors and Bud.”

“Are you good to drive or do you want me to?” You wiggled your toes in your shoes, feeling the ache of standing for hours in the balls of your feet.

“No, I’m good to drive,” Sam said, shaking hair out of his face. He looked up at you, hazel eyes hard to read with fatigue or fear or pity or some murky combination thereof. You drew tight spirals over orders you’d taken that night, feeling the pen press impressions into the small notepad. The absence of words spread out to close the distance between you, feeling cloying and claustrophobic even as the Nate Bargatze standup you’d cued up piped out through the bar’s speakers.

“Hey, I—”

“Are you—” Sam started at the same time. You held out a palm to signal for him to continue, not truly wanting to speak yourself. “Uh, sorry. I just…I—I’m not Dean. I can’t be Dean.”

The words and deflation in his shoulders made you wish you’d been set ablaze. Stunned, you felt your mouth open and close around words that weren’t materializing, just collecting in your throat and hardening there, the backup starting to choke you.

“I, uh—I know,” you finally managed to squeak past the lump.

And part of you wondered if he was right in thinking you were using him as a stand-in. As atypical as the whole situation was, you couldn’t imagine that it was normal to sleep in the same bed and spend virtually every minute together. You began to feel sick at the thought that Sam would be out living up to his potential somewhere if it weren’t for you, back to law school or righting the wrongs of the world rather than in a Northwoods dive bar restocking domestic beers at 2:30 on a Tuesday morning. The selflessness of it seemed unfathomable and yet so entirely something Sam would do. Suddenly it felt like the walls were collapsing around you.

The moment stretched out and Sam stood up, leaning on the counter across the bar from you. His jaw was set hard and he tilted his head the way he did when he was trying to stop himself from teetering over the edge of tears. “Sam, I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He cleared his throat but looked down at the nonstick mats on the floor. “No, ah, you don’t need to apologize. I just need you to know I can’t be him for you.”

You didn’t dare look up in case you met Sam’s eyes as you nodded, so eviscerated and humiliated you were having a hard time taking a deep breath. After a long minute you heard the clink of bottles as Sam finished restocking, grabbed your coat to mumble something about warming up the car, and went to the small parking lot. You managed to make it into the Impala before your vision started swimming and the potential enormity of the situation crashed against you; was this the end of your carved out hideaway, full of grief and memories and comfort and little moments of affection and joy you had just barely started to accept? All for some stupid thought that Dean would be happier if you were out getting wasted, an idea that reduced him to a drifter barfly instead of the complex man who’d been more loyal and loved more deeply than anyone you’d ever met. The tears dried up quickly as self-disgust rolled over you and started ringing in your ears. You didn’t hear Sam coming and jolted when he opened the door, recoiling against the passenger side to give him as much space as possible. He glanced over at you with eyes so pitying that you couldn’t bear to look at them, staring out the window at the abject darkness the rest of the drive home.

Sam didn’t turn on the stereo.

Back in the cabin, you quickly shucked off your coat and snatched what you needed out of the bedroom before barricading yourself in for a shower. You didn’t bother taking your makeup off first, allowing the sting of mascara to get washed away in the water. It was too hot and you didn’t care; you only came out when you realized you were going to leave Sam in a cold shower in the last week in December.

You brushed your teeth in the mirror and took a few deep breaths before sliding out, heading past the open bedroom door straight to the kitchen in order to gulp down a panicked glass of water. Mercifully, you heard the bathroom door lock when Sam entered it quietly. You took the opportunity to grab your pillow out of the bedroom, tossing it on the couch and pulling the throw off the sofa’s back to cover yourself. Your eyes were closed tight and ramming up against your racing mind when Sam came out.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” he said softly from behind you.

You opened your eyes but didn’t move your head to seek him out. “It’s okay.”

Sam appeared in front of you, legs bending severely to perch on the short coffee table. His bare chest still glistened a little from the shower and you knew the green flannel pants he was wearing were soft and thick to the touch. Earnest hazel eyes meeting yours, Sam braced his elbows on his knees.

“Sam, I’m really sorry. It was a weird reflex and it was unfair for me to—”

“No, I, it—it wasn’t that. It’s just like, sometimes when you look at me, you look like you’re seeing a ghost. I’m just—I need to know you’re not staying here because I’m the closest you can get.”

If your heart hadn’t been shattered and re-shattered over the last almost- two-years and today, the fear and resignation in his eyes would’ve sent you to pieces. You pushed up to sitting in order to give Sam the respect he deserved.

“I can’t—I won’t lie and say you don’t remind me of him, but you’re my best friend—been my best friend since I first met you guys—and I am so, so, sorry I made you feel…I could never try to replace him, Sam.” You were barely making sense, having a hard time stringing together how you felt. “The only place I want to be is with you. You’re all I’ve got.”

It felt desperate and needy but it was true and Sam deserved the truth. You didn’t shy away from him, stayed there holding his gaze until he seemed content having searched your eyes for anything hiding from the light. After a moment he nodded tightly against lips pressed in a firm line. “Okay.”

Sam stood up, the broad planes of him catching the glitter of the Christmas tree lights. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and tentative. “Can you, uh, can you come back?”

It took a moment to process before you nodded, standing up and snagging your pillow before following Sam into the bedroom. You climbed into your side of the mattress, close to the wall and your tiny precious gallery, and Sam folded around you, his warm skin seeping through your t-shirt onto your back. You felt tense and comfortable all at once, safe and uneasy. The two of you sat there for a long time, the relatively light weight of Sam’s arm over you betraying that he wasn’t asleep either. When drowsiness finally began to tug your eyelids closed, he pressed his lips to a spot on your shoulder exposed from the looseness of its sleeve. The last thing you remembered was his arm going heavy like an anchor across yours.

The sun is hot and delicious on your cheeks, baking the cotton of your jeans and t-shirt into you and turning the roof tiles under you into a frying pan. Wispy clouds move with no urgency across the sky above you and you can’t think of anything better than this, glancing down to worn laces on Dean’s boots undone to give his feet some air as his t-shirt clings half-humid to him. You know his freckles are going to be darker by dinner and it makes you smile to think about it but you’ll never tell him—it makes him shy to be reminded of the spray of pigment that makes him feel alternatively feminine or juvenile but never stunning the way you think it should. You press up to your elbows, barely registering the sting of heat and grit of the roof underneath you and kiss the spot on Dean’s arm where his shoulder slopes into his bicep. He smiles down at you, a lazy half-open smirk perfectly framed by the blue sky behind him like a painting.

“You’re so weird,” he chuckles. “Who kisses someone’s arm?”

“Then come down here,” you toss back, exaggerated pout ready for him. He ducks down to you, the warmth of his lips on yours like a cookie fresh out of the oven, like sliding down the hallway on new fuzzy socks, like the summer’s first plunge into water.

Sam’s head peeks out from under the gutter. “Bobby’s putting brats on the grill, do you want any?”

“Hell yeah, extra onions,” Dean yells down, grinning smugly when you make a face.

“Me too!” you call out, watching Sam squint up at the roof.

“No onions though, right?”

“You’re the best, Sam.”

Sam beams up at you, dimples almost high enough to reach the squint-crinkled skin around his eyes. He nods and ducks back out of sight.

“Come on, I’m thirsty,” Dean says, standing up. He reaches a hand down to you and takes a half step back to brace himself, stepping on the lace of his other boot. He stumbles and it’s a quick shuffle and you realize he’s too close to the edge his next step is into thin air like Wil E. Coyote and you’re grabbing at that same thin air and you can see his face change when he realizes and some part of your subconscious that’s even deeper than this can feel it’s happening again and the sound is so final, such a wet crack but you scrabble to the edge anyway because you have to see and Dean’s lying there.

He’s clutching his left leg bent against his chest like a stretch. “Son of a bitch, what the fuck!” he mutter-yells, and you hear the thump of Sam and Bobby running through the old house and skittering to a stop in front of him as you carefully shimmy down the porch post with your hands tearing on the gutter’s rusty edge, jumping down when you feel the railing beneath you.

“Dean! Are you okay?” Sam yells over Bobby who’s cursing out the goddamn idjit told you not to climb up there it’s like having a bunch of teenagers in this goddamned house and Dean winces and nods angrily.

You’re lifting up the hem of his jeans and gingerly taking off his boot and Dean hisses when you peel off his sock, but nothing is poking through the skin and that’s better than you expected. “Can you stand up?”

He nods again and you can practically taste him biting back the string of expletives when you and Sam each take an arm and lift him to standing. You snake a hand into his pocket and grab the keys to the Impala, leaning behind Dean to say to his brother, “I’ll take him to the ER.”

Dean doesn’t argue and it’s yet more evidence that it’s pretty bad, but you feel fine, elated almost, that he’s still warm under your palm and against your side, that he still smells like fresh laundry and domestic beer and a little bit of salt and engine grease. Sam’s long arm opens the door when you get there and slides Dean in and you promise to text when you know how bad it is as you round the car and get to the driver’s side. You turn the key in the ignition and throw your arm around Dean’s seat to reverse out of the driveway. Dean’s looking at you as you throw the car back into drive, staring almost, and his face is soft even around the broken ankle.

“I’m always going to love you,” he says, smooth and sure of himself. You tug your eyes away from the road with half a question on your face but Dean doesn’t explain why he’s saying this now. “I’ll be okay and I’m always going to love you, no matter what.”

It doesn’t make any sense and you open your mouth to tease this unexpected sappiness, remind him the ankle is just one more in a long string of injuries he’ll owe you for, and then Dean’s gone, the car’s gone, and the heat is coming from Sam’s chest in front of you.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 5

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @anxiousbarnes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8 @fawnxng @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @waywardwifey @thinkinghardhardlythinking @wonder-cole @sergeantsea

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

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beann-e · 4 years ago

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omg , I just saw the followers tab & :0 woah over 100 people follow me ,Tysm i don’t even have that many people following me on instagram anyways , I thought I would write something about my favorite hot head reacting to his s/o getting over 100 followers

“ katsuki “ you screamed as you bounced up and down

the balls of your feet never hitting the ground until he finally grabbed your shoulders

“ what “ he huffed out staring dead in your eyes bending to your level “ you’ve been screaming my name for the past 15 minutes “

“ because you haven’t been answering me “

“ because your rambling on and on about nonsense I don’t understand “

you moved out of his grasp to hop more “ katsuki — you’ll never believe what happened “

he grunted to show he was listening as he moved around in your kitchen

“ I hit 10– woah what are you cooking babe smells good “

he let his eyes drift from the pan to yours

his face turning up in confusion before he spoke his voice laced with annoyance

“ y/n , what are you — get it the fuck out why are you dragging it —swear I won’t be mad but this is pissing me off more than whatever your gonna tell me“

“ fine “ you pulled on his shirt to get him to pay attention to you.

Him finally huffing and turning to give you full attention , back rested on the counter as his hands held him up. Apron in clear view for you to see his white shirt poking out

“ ok what’s up babe “ he sighed “ you’ve got my full attention if we don’t have dinner tonight it’s your fault — what do you want “

“ I just hit over 100 followers on my tumblr “

“ t-tumbler “ his eyebrows raised “ the fuck is that ? “

“ tumblr “ you exaggerated moving over to stand across from him “ and it doesn’t matter arent you proud of me “

“ uh “

“ i’m gonna be famous and we’re gonna travel the world and — “ he looked at you like you were crazy as you went on rambling.

Eyes finally coming down from their confused state as he found himself smiling at your excited motions.

He always enjoyed watching you talk about something that made you happy though he got a little jealous when it wasn’t him

“ I don’t like tumblr “

your face dropped “ w-what “

“ I don’t like tumblr don’t make me repeat myself again “

“ why “ you gasped out watching as he moved back over to the stove and the pan he was cooking in

“ b-because — don’t question me I don’t have to tell you anything you — you shitty person “

“ uh katsuki im so confused right now babe “

“ ok well tumblr can be too when you delete your account “

“ w-“

“ haha won’t they send you one of those deactivation emails —- “ he laughed as he thought about all the bad things that would happen once you deleted your account only smiling when he remembered that he would be the only thing left in your life to make you smile

“ ok so after you delete your account you’ll be so sad I just know it but baby i’ll be right here and we can go to the p— “

“ i’m not deleting my account katsuki “ you huffed out hands wrapped around your chest “ so screw you“

he stopped what he was doing

“ tumblr makes me happy and if you don’t like them you can take it up with no one since no ones gonna listen to you “

you stuck your tongue out at him as he jumped back at the action “ not even your shitty s/o “

You moved to walk away and out of the kitchen pulling your phone out to look at your follower count one more time.

Your mind slowing when you noticed what you’d just done

‘ w-wait I talked bad to him , then I told him what I wasn’t gonna do, then I made fun of his own words’

your voice came out soft and low as you finally made a realization “ oh shit and then I left him alone in the kitchen — you never leave a bakugou alon—- “

“ y/n the fuck are you talking about “ you heard his near guttural yell “ the hell do you think your doing leaving me alone in my kitchen after being an asshole“

you could feel him at the other end of the hallway your body freezing when you looked up from your phone to stare at him calculating how many steps it would take him to reach the end of the hallway and how many it would take to get back to your room

His eyes darting ahead to look at you and then dropping to your phone “ you’re on tumblr “

“ I-i’m on tumblr “

the two of you stood still for a moment before you seen him take off down the hallway ripping his apron off as you jetted down the opposite way taking the turn to your bedroom as he screamed smirking

“ oh fuck am I gonna kill you “

“ no no babe wait I — “

“ your fucking writer fingers better be moving just as quick to delete your page like they do to upload a new story “

“ not fucking funny katsuki “

“ I hear so much talking but not a ‘ are you sure you want to deactivate your account “

You screamed as you heard his blast go off and zoom him through the house as he grabbed you tackling you to the floor as you reached out for the bedroom door

“ damn it was 2 fingers away “ you whined “ baby please I win — I win i’m right here just give it to me “

“ no — nope you know the rules “ he smiled down on you his face less than a centimeter away from you

“ you don’t make it to the room after you’ve pissed me off and I win whatever argument we have “

“ you asshole i’m quirkless—you have an advantage“

he looked around the hallway with a small shrug “ huh sounds like a you problem shoulda designed the house to your benefit— “

he laughed as you frowned “ maybe you should talk to shitty deku about that heard there’s a way out of quirkless boredom for losers like him “

“ maybe I will go talk to him “

he quirked up his eyebrow “ you better be talking about quirks or i’m on your ass “

you gulped as he plucked the phone from your grasp “ thank you “

“ asshole “

“ we both have those yes “

“ fuck you katsuki “

“ you did earlier “

“ I hate you “

“ funny — is it your period cute how it always makes your mood change”

you felt yourself let out a giggle that turned into a loud laugh when you noticed you were never gonna win his game

You looked up at him eyes moving carefully over his features thumb rubbing at his cheek before you ran you hand over his nape and into his hair him shuddering at the new feeling

Before he plopped his head across your chest basking in the feeling

you staring at the ceiling feeling his low groans radiate through your body

He was overworked so you knew he was tired this was the most fun you’d guys had together in months apart from the dinner dates you only went on to copy your married friends

“ do I make you happier than tumblr “ you laughed at his question before smiling widely

“ yes you make me happier than tumblr babe “

he grunted as he nuzzled himself into your chest not wanting you to see the red blush decorating his face only to show off his red ears more

“ f-fuck tumblr then “

you sighed out as you took your phone back from his grasp him only making you drop it so he could hold your hand instead

“ does this mean I can keep I— “

“ if you ask me i’ll delete it myself “ he said through his muffled voice “ just shut the fuck up and enjoy my momental celebration of your 100 fans“

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kicksaddictny · 3 years ago

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Kicksaddict Sneakerhead PROFILES Interview Series: @CakedaGawd

After a long Hiatus, we’ve returned! Our popular Profile series has been requested almost on a daily basis (Thanks for the tweets, dms and emails). We were even threatened! (Thanks by the way).

Cake The Gawd! This one was so much fun. Tap in.

Where are you from? Brooklyn, NY born in Crown Heights raised in East Flatbush.

How long have you been collecting sneakers? I was introduced to sneakers in 1991 but I started collecting for myself in 98.

What’s your favorite sneaker and why? Air Jordan 6 Infrared. It's the shoe Michael was wearing when he won his first championship, and to me just it’s just the most beautiful Jordan shoe to date! The silhouette is unmatched, it is timeless, and no matter how many times it is retroed I will buy it!

Besides your hometown, what is the best city for sneakerheads that you know of? Why? I would say LA 100% !! It is a vibe out there. I am part of a sneaker group and 75% of the people in there are from LA. They really about the culture they know their shit and they are fresh as fuck too.

Do you collect just for collecting or do you collect and rock? I collect and rock. That is why I double up on certain shoes.. Some kicks you gotta have for store and show but some you just have to rock them!

What sneaker got you into the sneaker game? I cannot pinpoint one thing, it is so many things. It was Music, my parents introducing me to Nike, my older cousin, basketball, the dope boys around the way, and my 3rd grade crush and her cousin who both had Aqua 8's. (LOL) I cannot just say 1 thing because they all had a significant part in it.

What are your thoughts on these fake celebrity sneakerheads? I hate them all! All of these dudes just get perks, some of them do not even know the shoes. That shit really gets under my skin. Showing off shoes that they get and not even knowing the name or numbers of the shoes, creating their own names. Shit is sickening. S/O to the Sneaker Gawd Wale !

How do you feel about the Off white collabs? I liked the first round of the collabs. With the Presto's, Air maxes, Blazers, and Jordan 1's. I think after that it should've been left alone. But I can respect what they are doing over there. I just won my first pair of Off-White's with the Lot 50 joint.

If you could wear only one sneaker for the rest of your life, what would it be? Air Jordan 3 Black Cement. Yes 6's are my favorite of all time but the Black Cement 3's just go with EVERYTHING!

What advice would you give as far as storing and preservation of your sneakers? Wear your kicks man. I store and rock! I get it, wanting to save shoes but putting them away and never rocking them, when you finally do ya it’s separating and crumbling. In order for your kicks to last they gotta be worn anyway. Unless you're truly just on some collecting only for show vibes.

What is the most you’ve ever spent on a pair of sneakers? $900... I was able to land Black and Red and Royal 1's from 2001 together. A friend of mine had them and said he couldn't think of anyone else. I had literally just started my new job. A chunk of my first check went to that pick up.

Have you ever waited in line for a pair of kicks? I waited in line once in my life for shoes and swore I would never do it again. It was for the 2001 True Blue 3's. I waited online at like 7 in the morning at Kings Plaza. LMAO I said this will never happen again. I didn't have the patience for it. I do not know how ppl used to do that shit or camp for kicks. I was there for 1 hour and I was like this is ridiculous.

You're also a photographer, how long have you been taking photos? I have been taking photos since 2011 but officially became a photographer in 2013.

How do sneakers play a role in your photography? That is a great question because I didn't want the 2 to mix at all. Because I'm a scenery and landscape photographer. But I got into photography because of sneakers. No offense to anyone but a bunch of these "influencers" get on IG with their DSLR cameras, take some on foot shots and call themselves "Photographers". 90% of them do not even understand lighting. I didn't wanna be one of those guys because I actually live this and study it. But recently I just started letting it be that and owning it. I am nice with this photography shit when it comes to sneakers. I have a deep connection with shoes and I love incorporating that into my art. I thank my wife for that. I told her I don't wanna be just another sneaker photographer and she said to me who said you have to be ?! I took that and ran with it. Off-White just recently featured some of my pictures on their Instagram.

I remember you saying you're a sneaker enthusiast, what is the difference between that and a sneakerhead? An enthusiast really studies sneakers. Sneakerheads just love sneakers like it ain't really about the history and all that for them. They just love shoes because it is cool and makes them feel good. Us Enthusiasts are invested. Things matter like knowing years of a shoe. For example, an enthusiast would look at a pair of Jordan's like Taxi 12's, We know Michael wore those in the 1996 - 97 season, but we also know that Martin gave away a pair on his show for the Christmas episode to the kid who had holes in shoes. They are tied to iconic moments. A sneakerhead may love Bordeaux 7's because they are dope looking shoes. Where for me it's that Michael Jordan wore those in a video with Michael Jackson and Kris Kross in the 92 Jam video. MJ and MJ in a video with Kris Kross, do you know what that did to my childhood?! Give you one more example that is not even Michael Jordan related. Piggy backing off of Kris Kross,The Patrick Ewing’s were one of my favorite kicks growing up besides seeing Pat play in them one of my favorite Hip Hop covers of all time is "Totally Krossed Out" and Kris Kross is wearing both colorways. So you see what I mean there is so much tied to it with being an enthusiast. This is just my opinion though some may not agree so don't shoot me! (Ha)

From the time you started collecting up until now, would you say that the sneaker game changed for the best or the worst? I have been collecting for 20 plus years now. I have seen the game at it's best, I have seen it die, I have seen it revive, and now I am witnessing the death of it again. The sneaker game is disgusting right now, and I honestly do not think it will ever recover. It really saddens me. It is a popularity and money contest right now.

Does pricing affect your collection? Hell No! And I hate that some people are trying to make this the norm. IDGAF if you paid $500 - $2000 for a pair, It doesn't mean shit. The narrative is getting outta hand.

What does the word “Hypebeast” mean to you? Hypebeast is a person that only buys shit for status and popularity. They cannot form their own opinion about shit. They have to wear and cop items based on what every celeb is wearing or whatever these Social Media "Influencers" are saying is hot! It is not only sneaker related either. N*ggaz were hypebeasting for PS5 last year..

What are your thoughts on the females in the sneaker game? They are the best! I wish we had a Sneaker union and it was only run by females! The men in this game are annoying and so over the top. It is so bad that they feel the need to compete with women. The men get shoes just to show off to one another. Like what type of shit is that? The females are cool. I had a dude on twitter tell me women don't know the value of a shoe let alone about the shoe. The men feel like they always gotta try to shit on the women. The women are just trying to be part of the culture and enjoy it. And they shouldn't have to try to be part of something that is open to anyone who is willing to be invested and understand the culture.

Any advice for a young kid coming up in the sneaker game? Wear what you like! Respect the game and the people who have been doing it before you. Because this new generation of sneakerheads are little entitled dicks. No respect whatsoever!! I don't care about Travis Scott shoes. Without Jordan being who he is Travis wouldn't have a Jordan silhouette to collaborate with! Same with Off-White. These silhouettes were here before these guys. Say know your history and pay homage!! BUT STAY humble.

See I follow you and I'm loving the way you include your daughter in your work, what does that mean to you? Man, it is beautiful!!!! Without even trying she is invested in the culture. Both photography and shoes. Myself and my wife are both heavy into photography, art, music, sneakers, and clothes. My daughter is into all the same things but we are letting it be her own experience. We are not forcing anything on her. We want her to enjoy being a child and whatever things she picks up from us along the way is just a bonus. But I love shooting her, and I love when she asks myself and her mother "do we like her fit". It is truly a blessing man!

All photos by CAKEDAGAWD

Follow : https://twitter.com/CakedaGawd

https://www.instagram.com/whatsinthesyrup/

#Kicksaddict #cake #photographer #cakedagawd #airjordan #airjordan1 #airjordan6 #clothing #baby #infrared #airjordan4

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clonecaptains · 5 years ago

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Barba Ardeat - Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina) x reader fic

word count: 1.9k rating: E/M - for smut / slight daddy kink summary: Nathan is up late working and you want him to come back to bed... a/n: this is 100% self indulgent cuz i have a trash crush on him so here goes

Barba Ardeat

The low whirring of a computer fan on most nights lulls you to sleep. You can’t sleep with absolute silence; neither can Nathan. His mind won’t turn off in the complete silence. Though, his mind is always working. He takes his work to bed with him. That’s why your mattress is on the floor next to his work desk. The sound of his computers running is a familiar sound. You’ve had to get used to dim light from the screen coming on at weird hours in the night, or the squeak of his rolling desk chair, a scratch of his pen on a sticky note.

Tonight though, the whirring stirs you from sleep. You roll over to find Nathan at his computer desk, glasses on his nose. Normally he sits so relaxed, an elbow on the desktop, his cheek pressed against his fist. Right now, he’s sitting up straight. Alert. His fingers are clacking over the keys, and you think maybe that’s what woke you instead. You’re too tired to notice.

“Nathan?” sleep is clinging to your voice. You sit up and stretch. “Everything alright?”

“I’ve got it,” he answers you, not turning around. His fingers haven’t stopped moving once. You see the lines of code flash across the screen. You have no idea what any of it means. That’s part of the reason he doesn’t mind you being here with him. You don’t understand any of it, so you can’t tell anyone trade secrets. Not that you would, you have no other motives. Ratting on your boyfriend isn’t something you have in mind. What you want, is for him to come back to bed.

“Got what?” You rub your eyes and stand up. Coming up behind him, you drape your arms over his shoulders, your hands rub up and down his smooth chest.

“I beat my high score,” he smiles, as if he can’t believe it. You’re confused, watching the screens, he’s obviously not playing a game. Unless writing code is a game you can get points for, you’re not even sure at this point.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” you laugh kissing the back of his shaved head.

“Maybe,” he teases and tilts his head back to kiss the underside of your chin. “Go back to bed, baby. I’ll be up for a while.”

“No,” you whine, “Come back to bed with me,” you kiss the shell of his ear. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”

He sighs, leaning his head back to rest against your chest. Taking off his glasses, he sets them down on the desk. The metal frames hit the glass desk with a clatter.

“Yeah you’re right,” he rubs the bridge of his nose. His head pushes back into your chest a little harder, you know what he’s doing. You reach up to put your hand on his forehead to keep him secure to your chest. The back of his head cushioned on your breasts.

With another sigh, he reaches for his glasses to push them back on his nose. You let him go as he leans forward. He scrawls one more note, then spins around in his chair to face you. His hands reach for your hips; the vice grip pulling you towards him. He closes his eyes and begins to mouth at your breasts through your tank top. His tongue dampening the fabric covering your nipples. He huffs out a chuckle when your nipples peak, and his warm tongue laps back and forth.

He’s in control, never controlling, but always in control.

You’ve only recently come out to this place together. And he’s begun a project which you know little about. You’ve begun to fall into a routine. He works out in the mornings, then you eat breakfast together. He works during the day, always pausing for mealtimes with you. The nights belong to you. When he was alone, he drank to quiet his mind now that you’re here you help distract. Usually with sexual activities, but sometimes it’s just the quiet sound of your voice. He’s fallen asleep with his head in your lap dozens of times, you gently stroking his beard.

Only recently has he started to work late into the night, and you encouraged him to get some adequate sleep. So, he’s only just begun a system of making notes on sticky notes and sticking them to the wall each night. In the morning he’ll look back over them to pick up where he left off.

You know he’s made a breakthrough if he’s broken his routine to stay up late. So, you don’t push it, but you can tell he’s tired.

Well maybe not that tired.

“Nathan,” you gasp, shuddering under his tongue.

“Lay down,” he looks up at you over the rim of his glasses.

You don’t have to be told twice, though you might test him sometimes because you like when he throws you over his knee. But not tonight, you’re too desperate for him.

He kneels beside the mattress and peels off your tank top. Climbing on top of you, his midsection rests against your core – keeping you still. Which leaves his mouth level with your now bare breasts. He picks up where he left off and seals his mouth around your tender flesh. His beard tickles your skin, as his tongue teases your nipple lazily. You groan and try to buck up your hips for friction, but he won’t let you.

When he pulls off one breast, he makes a point to scrape his beard against you. He chuckles when you writhe.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ hate me,” Nathan states, kissing your nipple.

“I already hate you,” you grunt trying to wriggle out from under him.

“I know what we agreed-“

“No more working at night,” you say at the same time.

“But I’m on to something baby, I’m close.”

“I am too,” you buck your hips up again, hoping he’ll get the message. And he reads you loud and clear.

“If I let you come will you let me go back to work?”

You nod, “yes!”

“Yes what?” his brow cocks up high.

“Yes daddy.”

He grins slipping his hand down the front of your panties. Warm fingers tease your clit and your folds, warm mouth still all over your breasts. Your nails dig into his shoulders and the back of his neck. Practiced fingers bring you to the edge and toppling over quickly.

A quick kiss is pressed to your lips before he hops up, leaving you a sweaty mess on the bed. And he’s back at his computer desk clacking away.

“Nathan,” you call his name, still trying to catch your breath. You know he’s hard, he’s got to be. It makes you smile he’s ignoring his own pleasure and release because there’s an idea eating away at him. He’s always so meticulous and precise – all while remaining casual. Now he’s so driven, his one-track mind won’t let him think on anything else. “Can I take care of you?”

You want to see if you can get him to crack. If his goal was to give you an orgasm to get you to fall asleep that plan failed. You are buzzing and relaxed, but now you’re thinking about his cock.

Looking up at him, you watch. He’s still clacking away, but then he stops for a beat and his body stills. He gives one nod; if you’d blinked you would’ve missed it.

He keeps typing while you come around the front of the desk, it’s an awkward space but you do your best. His shorts show the evidence of his erection, and you’re quick to grasp him. He lets out a soft grunt but keeps typing. He’s never expressed this but it’s a fantasy he’s entertained.

You pull his shorts down while he works, and in the soft glow from the computer screen you see how he aches for you. Your prop yourself up on his thighs and take him into your mouth. He stops typing for a moment – only one. But he regains his composure. You don’t even have to look up at him to know he’s picked up on your little game.

But you know him, you know what it takes to bring him to the edge quickly. You know the ways to draw it out too. He’s trying his hardest to keep a straight face, but you can see that distinct vein in the middle of his forehead.

When you hollow your cheeks, that’s the end. His body stiffens and his hands fall from the keyboard going limp. He lets out a groan and starts to gasp looking down at you.

Composure ruined. Success.

He sees you smile around him, and he can’t help but smile back. He can’t be cocky with you because you’ll give it right back to him.

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to work,” you adjust him back in his shorts and come around to kiss him on the cheek. He captures your chin between his forefinger and thumb to pull you in for a kiss.

“You know you’re more important than all this,” he gestures wildly, “but I’ve got something here.”

You nod, you know.

“Get some sleep,” he tells you. And as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re out.

The morning comes and you wake up alone. Which is typical. Knowing Nathan, he’s working out. He didn’t drink last night, but since it was a late night – he’s probably thinking over what he worked on the night before. He lets you sleep while he works out, but he’ll wake you for breakfast if you aren’t already awake.

Rifling through a drawer, you take a Henley of Nathan’s and pull it on.

You make the familiar path through this large place to his workout spot. You can hear him grunting before you see him and hear the blows land on the punching bag.

“Good morning!” he huffs, bouncing on his weight from foot to foot. “So, I was thinking about last night,” he says punching between words. His grey tank top is darker grey under his arms and on his chest from the sweat, he’s been here awhile.

You hum back in response, taking a seat on the leather seat of his workout equipment.

“I owe you something.” He keeps moving, and you unashamedly watch his tight ass move in his black gym shorts.

“What do you owe me?”

“Is that my shirt?” he stops, turning to look at you. His eyebrows raising up; he squints a little since his glasses are off. He starts to unravel the tape wrapped around his fists.

“It is,” you push up one of the sleeves that had fallen, suddenly it’s a little warm in this shirt. “What do you owe me?”

“A thank you,” he stands over you and pushes your shoulders back so you’re lying on the cushioned bench.

“For what?” you ask laying back, unsure of what he’s doing. Until you feel him push up the Henley on your hips and tug your panties down and off your legs. He’s kneeling in front of you, and he pushes your legs apart.

He says nothing as he buries his face between your legs, his mouth closing around your heat. His beard tickles your thighs and he moves your legs to drape over his sweaty shoulders. He eats like a man starved, and he doesn’t stop until you’ve come twice.

“You want breakfast?” he looks up at you when he’s finished. His beard dripping with your juices. He’s got a smug smile plastered to his face.

Silently you nod, trying to catch your breath.

He makes you breakfast; and spends the rest of the morning gently rubbing lotion between your thighs to ease the itch from the burn his beard left behind.

im working on a taglist, if you wold like to be in tagged in my future works please click HERE

///

and according to google translate - barba ardeat means ‘the beard burns’ in latin...if it’s wrong well we all know how google translate isn’t always accurate

#ex machina #nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #mine #my writing #uhhh idk what to tag this #jjkhjhjk DON'T LOOK AT ME

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brittlecakes92 · 3 years ago

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Tiny hands in big hands Taven

Okay, so before we get to it, in the fic, everyone is a child. You are a child, Taven is a child, Daegon is a child! No funny business. Enjoy <3 Since lady Delia took you on as her apprentice at such a young age, she thought it appropriate that you would get along with her sons, it would only seem right since you were all three around the same age, and you would be around them everyday. Argus, on the other hand, didn't see the point. You weren't royalty, you were nothing more to him then the girl that would wait hand and foot on his wife. Delia knew these things differently, her visions were never wrong after all. As much as she loved her husband his arrogance on matters such as this always broke her heart a little. This wasn't the attitude she wanted her boys to show towards people of different social up bringing as well. It was a warm day in Edenia. Taven and Daegon were kicking a ball back and forth to each other, shoving the other to get it. Laughs and cheers could be heard from both of them. You smiled as you watched them, hopping to get a chance to play as well. The sons didn't like when you tried, even going so far as to get annoyed with you. Taven kicked the ball away from his brother, causing it to roll closer towards you. He froze up when he felt Daegons eyes on him. Standing up you hurry over to the ball before picking it up, an excited smile on your face as you looked up to see the brothers. Daegon was cutting a glare at Taven, Taven in turn rolling his eyes at him. It wasn't his fault he was trying to get the ball away from him. "Way to go." He mouthed. Taven pushed him and was about to say something back to him when your voice interrupted him. "Here you go.. can I play?" You asked, pushing the lose strands of hair out of your face, your eyes were hopefully that they would let you join this time. Daegon turned his glare towards you, and raised a brow at his brother. He wanted Taven to be the one to crush your hopes of joining in. "I don't think that would be the best idea." Taven answered curtly before yanking the ball out of your hands. Your face dropped at his words and you looked down at the ground. A smirk grew on Daegons face before he placed a hand on Tavens shoulder pulling him away from where you stood, an idea has crossed his mind. "If she wants to play with us so bad... how about we scare her so she won't ever want to play with us again." Taven raised a brow at his brother. "She's not going to get hurt, is she?" He asked. Daegon cocked his head to the side, feigning hurt. "Of course not brother. I would never do something like that." Taven thought about it for a minuet before he placed the ball down with a huff, he and Daegon walking over to where you were standing. "Y/n... How would you like to play a game with us?" Daegon asked. Your lips broke out into a huge smile, the hopefully light in your eyes made Tavens heart pang with guilt. "I would love to!" Your smile faltered a little when you watched Daegon take off the sash that was around his waist. He was standing in front of you now, a hand placed on your shoulder. You tensed up under his touch. "Relax... I won't hurt you." He moved to stand behind you, moving the sash up he quickly covered your eyes with it before tying it securely around the back of your head. He grabbed your shoulders, his grip was firm as he nodded his head for Taven to follow. Daegon began to lead you into the thick of the woods. Taven began to get nervous as the light began to be drowned out by the overgrown trees that were packed together. The leaves suffocating out any light that tried to touch the ground. "Isn't this too deep?" Taven whispered harshly to Daegon. He was beginning to doubt his brothers intentions. Daegon rolled his eyes at his older brother. Always so goody, goody. "No, she will be fine." Daegon shot back, his tone just as harsh. You stumbled over your feet, your head turning from side to side, your heart raced so quick you could hear it in your ears. You took in a shaky breath to calm yourself down. It was hard to pick up where you were when you couldn't see or get a feel of what was going on. You could hear Taven and Daegon whispering amongst themselves, but it was hard to make out what they were saying. The three of you finally emerged into the opening of a field, a large tree took up the space. Daegon pushed you closer to it before pushing you down roughly to sit. "Keep the fold on, you are going to count to one hundred, Taven and I are going to hide. Isn't that right Taven?" Daegon asked, his voice taking on a fake sweet tone. Taven glared at him before rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that's right y/n." You didn't feel right about this. You wanted to have the approval of both of the brothers, you just wanted to be friends with them and to be accepted by them but not if that meant you were going to be be put in harms way. You nodded, your voice meek when you finally spoke. "o..okay.." Daegon grabbed his brothers arm and began to pull him out of the woods in the direction that they came in. Taven pulled out of his grip and turned to look in the direction they both left you. "This isn't right Daegon. What if she gets hurt?" Taven asked. Daegon rolled his eyes and began to mock him. " What if she gets hurt... We've done this plenty of times." He reminded him. Taven turned to look back at him, annoyance on his face. "We are also half gods, she isn't." He snapped back just a quickly. "She'll be fine." Daegon retorted, his tone a little louder, and his composure coming undone. He was starting to get annoyed with his brother. Shaking his head he started to walk back out of the woods. Reluctantly Taven followed behind him, not before looking back in your direction one last time, fighting with himself to go back and get you. ".... 98, 99, 100." Taking a deep breath you slowly moved your hands up to your face, when you felt the sash you moved your hand along the fabric to find the knot in the back, when you worked it loose you pulled it free from your face, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. A squeal escaped from your lips when you took in where you were. You were scared, the silence of your surroundings made your anxiety grow even more. Your legs were numb and you stayed frozen to the ground. Taking deep breaths you had to remind yourself that this was a game, that they were just hiding in the woods, that you weren't alone. You pushed yourself up, your arms were numb, your body shaking as you started to walk in the direction you could see light. Your feet moved you slowly, you held your hands close to your body as you kept an eye on your surroundings. You felt like you had been walking forever, with no signs of the brothers. You stopped walking for a minuet and stared at the ground your brows furrowed as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. The situation becoming very clear to you. "They left me alone." You whispered to yourself. Your knees buckled as you squatted down to the ground, your head tucked to your raised thighs. The rustle of leaves caused you to gasp as your head shot up. Standing quickly you squinted at the moving brush before wiping your eyes. A feeling a relief flooded your body, your feet moving you towards the sound. They hadn't left you! They were right there, the thought alone pushed you to go where they were faster. Every other thought was pushed out of your mind. Taven sat on the grass, his legs out in front of him as he pulled up the emerald blades. It had been too long, you should have been out by now. Daegon leaned against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. Taven let out a groan before pushing himself up off of the ground. "She should be out by now. I’m going to ge her." Daegon rolled his eyes before looking up. "You agreed you wanted her to leave us alone. You agreed to wanting to scare her." Daegon began before turning to look at his brother. Taven raised a brow. "Yes, to scare her, not to abandon her in the woods. What if something happens? Mother will be furious with us." He stated, his anger starting to get the better of him. Daegons lips turned into a sharp smirk. "Good. Not like anyone will care." Taven charged at him, yelling before knocking him down to the ground. The brothers rolled around, pushing each other harshly into the ground. Taven was below his brother, Daegon on top of him, his fist drawn back when a scream caused them both to turn their attention in the direction of the Woods. Tavens heart began to beat rapidly as he pushed his brother off of him, getting to his feet before he took off into the direction of your scream. -- The Saurian held the collar of your dress, acidic droll slipping from in-between his sharp teeth. "Silence girl, it's been a while since I've had the flesh of a human." His tone made you begin to squirm more and try to break free from his hold. "Daegon -you whimpered his name- ... TAVEN." You screamed. You wanted anyone to be there. "Please... please.." You tried pleading with him when he brought his hand back, his sharp claws gleaming off the light that bled through from the trees. You closed yours eyes when he lunged his arms forward, waiting for the pain. Instead you heard a hard smack, and felt yourself fall to the ground. Landing on your hands and knees with a grunt, you looked up noticing the legs of someone behind the Saurian. You knew those black boots with gold detail, letting out a snarl, you watched as the reptilian turned to face Taven. His chest heaving from running and trying to seem tougher then he was. Taven swung the branch at the creatures green face, which he grabbed in his jaws. Tavens eyes widened, and he turned his gaze to you when the branch was taken from him. The fear if your eyes pushing him to move, to protect you and get you out of there. Ducking down, Taven dove through the Saurians legs, he now kneeled in front of you. Grabbing your small hand in his bigger one he pulled you up before dragging you behind him and away from the area as fast as he could. He turned to look back at you and noticed your were struggling to keep up, looking to his right he noticed a dip that lead to a ravine, pulling you towards it, he jumped down into it, pulling you close to his body, his hand carefully covered your mouth when the sounds of steps were closing in fast above you. You let out a silent sob, your hand moving up to rest on his as you turned your face further into his chest. Taven listened to the retreating footsteps before he decided it was safe for you to both make your way out of the woods. Taven turned to look at you, you stared forward, your eyes blank. He couldn't help but feel guilt. Standing up he pulled you up with him, his hand never leaving yours. "You left me in there. You left me alone." Your voice was shaky, although your voice was low, the words struck Taven as if they were the loudest thing he had ever head. He cringed and looked down, closing his eyes and feeling the guilt the impact of your words held. He was upset with himself. "It's okay now. I'm not letting you go." He promised. You looked up at him, taking in a shaky breath. The look in his eyes causing your heart to thump in your chest. A blush dusting your tiny cheeks. You nodded before hugging him. Taven let out a startled noise before closing his mouth and squeezing you for a second. Pushing you back he started to help you climb up the cliff, his hand never leaving yours. It was unspoken between you both, but you knew something had changed between the two of you.

#taven x reader #Taven #Mortal kombat

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kilesplaysthings · 4 years ago

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Halloween in Cradle!

Let’s imagine Halloween is a holiday that was introduced in Cradle by the first Alice and the people decide to let celebrations coincide with the harvest festivals like the “Land of Reason” does. How would "Alice” spend it with the boys?

(first time doing an IkeRev thing! some characters’ stuff will be shorter since I don’t know much about them yet! Put in a Read More since it’s LONG lol)

Lancelot:

It’s become a tradition that the rich and elite of Cradle attend an evening Halloween masquerade ball. The ball is only lit by candlelight and everyone dresses in black for an added spooky elegance. Red wine is served and haunting, but elegant music is played for dancing

Lancelot, of course, attends and invites you to be his partner. It’s the first and only time you’ll see him in black (you know, being that he’s the King of the Red Army) and he looks absolutely regal in his black suit, cloak and full mask with gold trim.

As the two of you dance and enjoy the evening, he explains the traditions of this party. It seems that the Central Quarter’s ballroom is, in fact, haunted by the ghost of a woman in white. She died a tragic death on Halloween night; people found her amidst the dancing, sprawled at the foot of the grand staircase, swathed in her pure white dress. As such, everyone who attends dresses in black to be sure that they can spot her before someone is “spirited away.” Red wine is served because it was her favorite drink and her favorite music is played to let her know she is welcome.

As he tells you this and the two of you continue to spin around, you think you catch a glimpse of white out of the corner of your eye. Lancelot squeezes your hand at the look of apprehension in your eyes and smiles at you, pulling you closer.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll make sure no ghost spirits you away tonight.”

Ray:

Halloween for Ray is busy just like any other day, but he’s always willing to help decorate the barracks to make them spooky!

Both armies like to have fun with the public and open parts of the barracks up for visitors for a fun spooky evening with games and fun haunts.

Insists on plenty of black cats everywhere.

Black cats are not bad luck. They’re good luck and ensure that Halloween will be fun and safe! (that’s the legend he’s determined to spread). Is not ashamed to wear black cat ears for the night either lol

He’s the head of security for the autumn and Halloween festivals that happen in the neutral Central quarter’s town square and the two of you walk around together having fun as he oversees the safety of everyone.

After the fun is over and the night is winding down, he’s happy to cuddle with you by the fire with a cup of warm apple cider - most likely with a black cat or two snuggled on your laps.

Jonah:

Not much of a Halloween person, tbh thinks it’s too childish

thinks the sweets are too much of Edgar’s type, not his own

the morning of, however, he invites you to a nearby café for brunch to show what delicious autumn delicacies they have

is happy to tell you about the different things he and Luka would get up to on Halloween when they were kids.

the two of you laugh over the stories he tells when he “defended” little Luka from a person dressed up in a ghost costume when they went guising as kids. Won’t admit that he ever got scared, (though he did)

Sirius:

This time of year is one of his favorites, because it means lots of autumnal baked goods that he can make!

Pumpkin pies, pumpkin cake rolls, pumpkin doughnuts, apple pies, apple crisp, pumpkin apple crisp! You name it, he’ll bake it.

It’s his baked goods that are always around for any harvest or Halloween festival

While he’s cool with Halloween, he does prefer the harvest aspect of he month more, mainly because he likes autumn decorations

Will invite you to help carve pumpkins with him. Or rake leaves. He’s actually quite good at carving and makes some fantastic faces and designs! And expect some fun leaf shenanigans with Chutney involved too

the two of you like take a walk together on the nearby trails to admire the beautiful autumn colors before the harvest dinner.

Edgar:

To your surprise, he quite likes Halloween

Mainly because he gets to scare and prank people and no one can judge him for it this time. Also CANDY

You can bet this guy has TONS of candy everywhere

Is ready to go out guising like all the kids do for the candy, even though Jonah keeps berating him for being too old

“You don’t even have a costume!!!” “I do so have a costume. I’m going as a Red Army soldier.”

Can also carve pumpkins quite well. makes some scary faces on them

Since he’s forbidden to go guising, takes the next best thing, which is to take you around the Halloween festival in search of treats to buy and win

Is a pro at all the games. Takes GREAT pleasure in the dunking booth, and is a great shot at it

“Here, Alice. I won this special candy just for you. Don’t eat it just yet. Let’s wait till we’re alone. Then we can share them, together~”

Luka:

Like his brother, is just meh about Halloween

But he enjoys the harvest festivals

Invites Alice to join him in going to one that’s on a farm just outside of the city. Together the two of you have a blast! Going on hayrides, looking at the different pumpkins in the pumpkin patch - and picking some out for later Halloween decorations - as well as picking out the juiciest apples for later baking and sampling some delicious apple cider

You pick out matching scarves with him at the farm’s shop that sells hand-knitted clothing perfect for fall days like this one and wear them for the rest of the day

You can be sure that harvest time means some delicious food made by Luka, as he gets along with the farmers who offer him their best produce

The nights are colder, so he makes sure he warms up a cup of tea for you before you both snuggle down together for bed.

“Going to the farm with you was so much fun. Let’s make it a tradition to go together every year!”

Kyle:

This time of year, our boy is on the lookout for colds. He’s prepared for visitors coming far and wide seeking treatments for them and has his office well stocked with medicine and herbs to help treat coughs and sore throats

He can get into the Halloween spirit too and decorates his office with a sort of “mad doctor” vibe to it. hOw OrIginAL

You can be sure he offers every kid that comes to him a Halloween treat when they leave his office (he’s a doctor, not a dentist lol)

basically Halloween is a chill day for him with just a flavor of spookiness.

likes to chill at Dalim’s bar in the evening for a quieter Halloween night

Fenrir:

This boy does NOT do Halloween!!

He’ll do anything to avoid celebrating it. Too busy with work! Gotta train! Has guard duty at the barracks! He has DESK WORK to take care of!

The other officers admittedly like to prank him this time of year because of it and it never fails to work

He’s touched when your make him his favorite meal to comfort him after a prank got him good

he tells you that his dislike of the holiday and his fear of ghosts both started when he was kid. his family threw a big Halloween party one night and late in the evening, when everyone was sitting together telling ghost stories, there was a banging in one of the rooms upstairs and the fire went out suddenly, leaving them all in the dark. People said it was a ghost coming to visit them. for a boy of only six, he said that night stuck with him for years and he still remembers how scared he was.

you’re touched by this rare moment of vulnerability from him and promise that from now on, each year, you’ll have your own “un-Halloween” celebration together

Zero:

He likes the idea of guising but knows he’s too old for it

Instead, he enjoys participating in the Central Quarter’s Halloween festival

He helps the local candy maker in his booth and the two of them make candy for people to buy during the festival

is not above dressing to get in the spirit of the night

Makes you your own special candy when you visit him in the booth

you share a candy apple together when he gets time off and can walk around the festival with you

Seth:

Ultimate Halloween prankster of the Black Army.

Has been the chief scarer of Fenrir but never goes too overboard -just enough

Halloween is in part about dressing up in costume, so you can be sure he’ll want to dress Alice up in every princess, witch or vampiress costume he can get his hands on

matching costumes is a win-win situation for him. his favorite is vampire and vampire bride. will get into character for it too

“careful Alice, I just might bite that pretty neck of yours if you keep acting so adorably~”

Loki:

Will 100% want to go guising with you

dresses up in a black hoodie with cat ears. “Look! I’m a black cat!”

the two of you hop around the villages together, you in a white sheet as a ghost, and him as a black cat, carrying sacks to get candy

back at the house, the two of you will sort out your booty together and trade treats, offering some to Harr if he wants any.

the night will end with bobbing for apples, some spooky games and tales and Harr admonishing you both not to eat too much candy before bed

you both may or may not decide to play a fun, innocent prank on Harr later on in the night

Harr:

For Halloween, you and Harr decide to take it easy. Maybe eat a big dinner with some celebratory cake and play some games together at the house

but then Loki comes up with a daring idea: late night exploring in the Old Ruins that lie deep in the Forbidden Forest

the idea is kinda scary, but also thrilling! Plus, Loki reasons, they’ll be with Harr, so there won’t be any danger

Harr (secretly pleased that he’s trusted so much) finally agrees.

The Old Ruins are rumored to be haunted, Loki says, as the three of you creep in. The door makes a painfully loud creaking noise as he tugs it open

Armed with a lamp fueled by magic crystals, Harr leads the way in as the other two huddle around him. the building is dark, decrepit, and quite dangerous in some places as the walls and upper floors are caving in.

“We shouldn’t stay here too long,” Harr warns, worried about the instability of the place. A sound is heard in a nearby room adjacent to the foyer.

“Let’s check it out!” Loki suggests and he heads in the direction of the noise.

You don’t find anything but continue to hear noises, noises that seem to be coming from the upper floors...

After a while of exploring, Harr suddenly decides to put his foot down. “Let’s go. Now.” He tells you.

You both don’t argue against the tone in his voice and head back to the house, Loki excitedly talking about their adventure. As he does, Harr takes your hand and holds it tightly.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so suddenly, but while you both were looking around, I saw someone watching us from above on the third floor. The last thing I ever want is putting you in harm’s way. Stay with me tonight so I know you’re safe.”

Blanc:

He can remember when the first Alice introduced Halloween to Cradle. In fact, he helped in forming the traditions of the holiday to what they are today.

He organizes and is in charge of the Halloween festival alongside with Dean. He also likes to host a costume party in the Garden, free for anyone who wants to attend

He dresses up as a white rabbit knight hOW OrIginAL

Cliched costume aside, he looks cute so it’s all good

You are his special guest and he ensures that your first dance of the night is with him

Oliver:

His favorite part about this holiday is the costumes

He makes lots of costumes and items for kids who want a super cool look for Halloween

in his kid form, he reluctantly agrees to an early afternoon of guising with you, but insists on wearing a mask he made for himself so no one knows it’s him

don’t be surprised if he pulls some pranks on you throughout the day to get back at you for making him do that in his kid form

never goes to Blanc’s costume party. prefers to join Kyle at Dalim’s bar instead for a more laid back celebration

Dean:

Teams up with Blanc in organizing the Halloween festival

Is a huge folklorist and can tell you all sorts of weird and creepy stories about Cradle’s history

owns a whole library about it, actually

being a teacher, he does fun things throughout the day for his students to get them in the Halloween spirit

his students put on a play for the Halloween festival that is usually about some Cradle folklore

He’s a good storyteller, so be prepared with a blanket and some hot cocoa when you both sit by a fire and share ghost stories

Dalim/Dum:

Halloween or not, the bar’s gonna be running. Doesn’t mean he can’t get in the spirit of things, though

decorates the place with candles and fog and all

keeps things quiet for those who want a calmer holiday

concocts special drinks for the occasion. Kyle’s favorite is the White Lady, based on the ghost that haunts Central Quarter’s ballroom

Will keep visitors entertained with weird and creepy stories that he’s heard from customers over the years

Mousse:

Halloween is just another day for him

Candy is whatever. He’d rather be given cheese. Prefers harvest festivals since there is cheese in abundance.

has to attend the different public gatherings as a Cradle official

ghosts don’t scare him. doesn’t believe any of the legends to be true

likes to drink warm cider and will fall asleep in front of the fire if he’s at a party

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siimjaeyun · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: Caution, Gators can eat humans.

Synopsis: The wishes for a new mystery after the sudden decrease in Seoul sends the teen mystery group to a town nearby. It’s own name justifies itself, and let’s just say: things don’t get pretty when JK (the anonymous caller) sends them on a chase.

Series Masterlist

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Absent-mindedly, the man continued to drive his SUV through the bumpy roads of Gatorsville, a small town just miles away from Seoul.

"We need to pull up for gas." The father made his way to the abandoned gas station, allowing his daughter to walk for a bit with the puppy.

The small puppy ran off into the bushes; the girl followed suit and called its name.

When she managed to reach her hand in, it met a pair of red fiery eyes back at her. Shocked, she jumped backwards and cried for help.

"Dad! It's a monster!" In disbelief, the man refused to believe her, but met the same sketched black-green lizard pattern with glowing eyes.

He didn't manage to say much, but got himself into the car and drove off in a hurry leaving whatever the creature was back in the dark.

------

"I'm bored.." Sunoo plopped backwards and landed on top of poor Sunghoon who was resting comfortably on the floor.

"What's up with Seoul, there hasn't been a mystery!" Jungwon soon joined Sunoo, crushing Sunghoon as well, making him cry out.

"Yo Jake, help me!" Jake helped the boy, picking him up and throwing him on the couch with you.

"Heeseung what's this?" You picked the magazine that was crumpled between the two couch cushions; part of you wished you had left it once seeing the front cover.

"It's a trap illustrated! Where do you think I got the inspo for this beauty." He flaunted the cords hung onto the metal crates.

"And who exactly do you expect to catch?"

Right on time, the delivery man got himself hung onto the trap set on the front, simply handing him the package once Heeseung managed to open the door and let him free.

"It's a package."

A loud thunder banged against the windows, letting the rain and its friends make itself present in the home. With caution, he opened it revealing an object covered by tissue and an envelope stamped in red with [JK]

"I swear JK gives me the creeps." The group opened the rest of its contents and found a gator skinned bag in the box.

"Maybe a trip to Gatorsville wouldn't hurt. Safe travels."

"This doesn't make sense. I thought Gatorsville didn't make skin products anymore." Jake observed the purse, handling each nook and cranny with care.

"Gatorsville? Like as in actual Gators?" Sunoo tried setting himself apart, clearly intimidated by the idea of gators.

"150 years ago, miners had moved to Gatorsville in search of oil and gold. Instead, they found the abundance of gators in the area, and mounted businesses on the farms which made them rich. They sold products everywhere, but when there were no more gators, everyone moved out. It's practically a ghost town."

"Then I'm assuming we have a new mystery?" Heeseung smiled and led the way out the door, at least before all six of you found yourselves captured in the same trap as the delivery man.

------

"Let's look around." They split into their usual teams, and trailed off.

"So, Jake, how do you like it so far?" You realized you hadn't learned much about the boy besides his past in Australia and his cute dog that visited occasionally.

"To be honest, it was really boring before Sunghoon invited me to come along. I'm glad I've got people who make life interesting." His small eye smile reassured you and you kept exploring the area.

From afar, Jungwon, Heeseung, and Sunoo found no hope of a mystery and made their way back to the remaining three of you.

"I guess JK sent us on a wild goose chase. Let's head back before it's too late." You gladly hopped back into the van and when Heeseung turned his key, the car wouldn't start. He trudged back and opened the car to see his engine had gone missing.

"Uhh...guys!" Sunghoon walked out, first witnessing the same event.

"H-how is it possible?" The six teens huddled around the missing spot, and turned around with a blinding light flashed forward.

"What do you exactly think you're doing!?" A man in his late 50's stepped out of the tow truck, and his eyebags and cuts on his upper eyebrow clearly signaled he wasn't here to talk much.

"Our engine is missing, think you can help?"

"And why should I?" He punched his knuckles and caused Jungwon to step backwards with Sunoo.

"Cause you're a mechanic?"

"Right. Well you're going to have to wait until tomorrow morning anyway-I have to wait for Seoul to come deliver a new one."

As the teens tried to call their parents, they received no response. They were either busy or didn’t care, clearly comforting the goofy timeline of teen chaos and drama.

"Just call Jay, maybe he can come." Hesitant, you dialed his number and received no response.

"He probably fell asleep. We're gonna have to stay the night." A neon sign was perfectly hung on the side of a building.

[GATOR INN]

"Hello, anyone there?" You clung onto Jake who just like you, preferred to lurk in the background while Heeseung and Jungwon took the lead.

"What do you want!?" A woman appeared from the dark shadows of the motel stairs, letting her fingers trail against the handrail.

“A room?”

“We’re all booked.” The woman sat on the closest tool: filing her nails without bothering to look at the teens in their eyes.

“But your sign says vacancy.” Sunghoon pointed to the sign from before, the clear letters stating VACANCY.

“Alright, follow me. I have a few rules, the girly over there gets her own room. The five of you that remain can split into two rooms.”

“Wait, no. Jungwon-he’s my brother; we can share a room.” You gave a slight signal to Jungwon to play along with the game, and the woman simply handed you the keys and walked back.

Her bright red hair decorated in pink bows peaked from behind her, but disappeared almost immediately once she turned her head forwards to face you.

“One more thing, if you hear biting, screams, loud shrieks: ignore and enjoy your day.” Her loud hairstyle finally left the hall, and you entered the old furnished room with Jungwon.

“It’s clear this hasn’t been cleaned in months.” You dropped your bag on the bed, and accompanied the bag to find a comfortable spot to rest.

------

“I wonder why y/n would lie to the woman about Jungwon being her brother.” Jake sat on the nearby chair, pushing the cushion downward.

“He’s scared to sleep alone; and he’s basically her child.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I. Why don’t we head out and explore if there’s anything worthwhile in the Motel.” They grabbed their jackets and exited the room, finding Jungwon and y/n heading out as well.

The four bodies met at the center of the hall, confused, but not surprised by their need to exit the walls of the motel guest room.

“Clearly, smart minds think alike.” You scoffed at his statement and led the way out the lobby. There wasn’t much to see clearly. The van was parked on the curb, the sky was dark and covered in a blanket of fog; everything appeared in order.

The comfortable silence was quickly disturbed by subtle movements in the bushes.

“I-i think something is there.” Jake reached out to move the branches and get a clear image, but a creature jumped out causing them to fall on their backs.

“G-gator people!” Sunghoon picked up Jungwon, while Jake helped you up and led you away from the monster that was currently chasing you. You quickly made your way up the flights of stairs: pushing through the other flights that followed to your bedrooms.

The creature continued; its sharp claws gauging at the walls and leaving a claw nail stuck in the paintings that were nicely hung. Without hesitation, the four of you barged into Heeseung and Sunoo’s room.

“What are you guys doing here?” Sunoo barely bothered to look up from his screen when he witnessed the same creature enter the room, crushing the door that was once attached.

“Gator people?” In fear, all of you clung onto the windows from the edge. Your foots collected on top of a single mattress, throwing the closest objects towards the creature.

The room quickly went black. A red glow emerged from the corners from the room allowing the two gators to creep under the floorboards and take a hold of your right leg pulling it downward.

Your body slipped from the thin lifting of the window balcony, and soon enough it was being dragged from under the five boys, leaving you to scream.

Jake and Heeseung plunged forwards, each taking a hold of one of your arms to prevent the gators from dragging your body any further. Sunghoon took the liberty of stomping on the arms of the gators, making them retreat backwards. They slipped on their own tails and fell downward through the same hole they had crept through. You made your way up and looked at the gator skin dangling from your ankle. A white stuffing peeked through the thin fabric; the monster clearly wasn’t real.

“It isn’t real?” Before Sunoo could continue with his pondering thoughts, the two gators once more crawled from below and sank their claws into the boards. The six teens ran out the door and out of the motel.

‘COME BACK TO VISIT’ The tacky green sign hung on the side, and was the last part of their vision before securely making their way out of the Gatorsville. They turned their heads back to the issue, and saw as the gators came to an abrupt stop once they had exited the town. Slippery, and cautious, the duo hid once more and retreated back.

“That was close.”

“We have to go back, come on!” Jungwon, almost-excited like, pushed his older companions to the inners of town once more. They slyly hid in the trees until they found the two gators pushing large crates into a ship; one crate after another went inside.

“Here.” Heeseung managed to bust the crate open, revealing packs of gator skinned products. Each marked with the same tag from earlier, ‘100% gator.’

Sunoo rolled up one of his sleeves and picked a belt from within the crate, and without thought, he wrapped the skin around his own. After some moments, he released the belt from his grasp and let it fall to the ground with a small clank following afterward.

“It’s fake, just look at my skin!” Sunghoon and Jungwon inspected him and found a pink rashing forming on his pale flesh. Sunoo was known for his skin sensitivity, and everyone knew that any fake animal product would send the boy into itches and scratches.

“The only thing we have here folks is a bunch of con-artists.” Heeseung sighs and makes his way to set up another one of his elaborate traps.

------

“Jake, now!” Jake quickly shot the arrow to the target, and it lunged to release the two boxes hanging by cords on the top side of the building.

The gators made their efforts to leave, but quickly were captured by the teen’s proud ploy.

“Got them!” Jake once more looked at the boxes with curiorsity, helping Sunghoon push it back towards the Motel entrance.

“Chief Kim.” The police man trudged through Gator Inn and found the huddled teens around two gator people caught in ropes.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“This Chief Kim is…” Heeseung pulled back the mask which revealed the owner of the motel inn and the scornful mechanic.

“What!?”

“That’s right. This is our home and when everyone left, we couldn’t just go. This is our home. So we started making cheap products to earn some money. We used the costumes to scare off yee visitors and get them away from our business. And we would have gotten away with it, if it wasn’t for you meddling tourists!”

Chief Kim quickly gave a nod which sent the gators to get sent to the back of his police car. They didn’t bother asking more questions and were about to drive off when Sunghoon rushed behind them.

“Wait! We need a ride!”

Almost on cue, the engine of their van made a growl, and the front lights illuminated their bodies. “Is it haunted?” Jungwon approached it carefully, and lifted the hood of the car; the engine was back in its place and now accompanied with a note hanging from the top.

“I hope you enjoyed your visit, but remember there is more to come. This is only the beginning of the puzzle. JK” The signature red stamp with bold letters JK glistened under the moonlight.

“More? I swear, this just keeps getting more creepy.” The six were left with nothing but to make their way back home, and who knows what they would expect next.

------

Note: Jay and Niki will be progressively included in the story line. I’m sorry for the long wait :(

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon #jay #heeseung #jake #sunghoon #sunoo #niki #heeseung imagines #jake imagines

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

Text

Late :Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 2880

The smile you were fully prepared to give the delivery man falls entirely at the sight on the other side of the door.

“What the hell are you doing here,” You huff out.

Henry crosses his thick arms over his even thicker chest and frowns back at you. “I didn’t get my script.”

A headache is already forming just from his proximity and you don’t bother resisting the urge to rub at your temple. “Well, I sent it to your house a week ago.”

“And I didn’t get it, so clearly you didn’t do a very good job.”

With an eye-roll, you say, “Is there some reason you had to come all the way to my apartment and bug me for the script when I will see you first thing in the morning?”

“Everyone else will have had theirs longer, and I wanted to get a good start on learning my lines, so yes, I have a good reason for ‘bugging’ you, Y/N.”

‘Hey, never got my script. Can you bring a copy in the morning?’ So damn easy.

You turn your head back when Henry’s heavy footsteps hit your hardwood floors. “Hey, I didn’t say you could come in,” You snap, eyebrows drawn together.

“What kind of person would leave their guest outside?”

“Stop acting like you hate me,” He says as he reaches a hand to grab yours.

“Excuse me?!” You quickly swat that hand away. “I am not acting like anything! Any negative feelings you are sensing from me are one hundred percent genuine.”

Henry scoffs and crosses his arms once again. “Oh, please.”

“So!” You pull out the script and hand it to Henry. Without giving it a glance, he snatches it from you and tosses it back on the oak wood surface of the desk.

“So? You’re distracting them from their jobs! We could probably get things done twice as fast if you weren’t around!”

“That’s—”

You blink at the increase in volume that makes the thin walls of your home quiver.

“I don’t know how many times your face manages to flash in my mind in the course of a week, but it’s starting to get to me!”

When you try to walk past him, his hand wraps tightly around your upper arm. “Hey!”

“Leave me alone! I hate you!” You snarl at the rage in his eyes and try to shake him off you.

“You don’t hate me.”

You glare up at him. “Oh no?”

“So what? So irritating? So infuriating?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If I’m such a problem, then go.” Ignoring his words, you point a finger in the general direction of the nearest exit.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes! Of course, I do!”

He quirks an eyebrow and cocks his head. “So you’re going to grab me with your tiny hands and throw me through the front door, is that right?”

“I can’t fucking lift you!” You yell.

“Then I’m staying!”

“I think you’re really not! You can’t just demand to stay here! That’s not how this works!”

“Getting you anywhere?” You mumble.

“This whole thing is fucking bullshit and I’m over it.” He swallows. “Tell me what I did.”

“What?”

“You keep saying you hate me but have never given me a reason, so what did I do?”

You slip your fingers out of his palm, looking to the floor.

“Please just tell me,” He begs. “Please, I--”

“You sleep with the women you work with.” You spit out.

“Whether or not you did, it’s not like you’ve been an angel to me anyway,” You say.

“So you do want to get in my pants?”

“No!” He says quickly, then after a beat, sighs. “Yes.”

You give no response, so he continues.

“I swear, despite how idiotic I have acted, I really like you, and I don’t know who your friend is or why she would tell you I slept with a bunch of women on set, but I didn’t.”

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s late, Henry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You won’t meet his stare but can see from your peripherals his head slowly nod. You don’t look up until your front door closes softly behind him.

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

“Y/N. You’re here early.”

You jump at the first voice to interrupt the peaceful silence. It was the last moment you’ll have to yourself for the next fifteen hours at least.

Turning your head, you smile at your boss. “Morning, Em.”

“Henry’s here early, too,” She says. “He asked me to let him know when you came in, but seeing as you’re already here, you think you could just head to his trailer now?”

No, you want to say. I’m not ready. “Sure.” You half-heartedly smile, dumping the last of your coffee in the nearest trash can.

Leo loyally returns the ball to Henry three more times before you gather the nerve to step up to his side.

“Em said you wanted to see me.”

You notice him hold in a breath when he registers your voice, then tossing the ball once more, he says, “I’d have gone looking for you myself if I knew you were here.”

You nod, but you’ve yet to look at one another.

“The makeup artists are gonna have a blast today trying to make me look decent,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t sleep all night. I spent it trying to figure out what to say to you but came up short.”

You scratch behind Leo’s large ears when he nudges your legs with his head. Henry gently grins, though you don’t see it. You shrug. “At least you don’t have as many scenes today.”

Henry chuckles. “That’s true.”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say to you either,” You say.

A moment passes as he blows out a deep sigh.

Finally meeting his eyes, the corners of your lips curve up just a bit.

“But I don’t expect you to feel the same about me.”

“Henry…”

“It’s ok.”

He looks at you. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. He stares at the touch you give him as you continue. “I didn’t have a good reason for treating you like I hate you, not really.”

“So, you don’t…hate me?”

“…No.” You look away in shame. “And I have a better explanation for that.”

He blinks, clearly relieved that every horrible thing he figured you felt for him was not, in your heart, the truth. “You don’t owe me one.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Wait,” He turns his body fully to you. “What?”

“I’ll bother you as much as you like,” He says and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @anise-d-castle6 @rebelliouscat @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @vibhati123 @mywinterwolf @picapicapicassobaby @genius2050 @lokilvrr @sunshine-seven @missjayi @agniavateira @tumblnewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc

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windstormwielding · 4 years ago

Note

How did you come up with Kotaro's zanpakuto? (i really love the bird theme of his attacks!) did you go through a lot of changes when coming up with names, abilities, and the general concept?

{ ooc } bUCKLE UP KIDDOS ‘CAUSE IT’S TIME FOR SOME LONG OVERDUE GODDAMNED KŌTA META-

Kōta’s zanpakutō was essentially conceived out of my own love for great big storms and heavy winds – and yes, I have a story to go with that! On one occasion many years ago, I hopped on a bus to visit a friend in town, but I was ill-prepared in that it was about to rain heavily and I had jack shit but a jacket. No raincoat and not even an umbrella. I thought I would make it there on time, buuuuut evidently, I did not. It already started raining and thundering hard by the time I walked out of the bus and had to walk a few blocks by myself.

And honestly, Plouton, looking back? I would not have changed a single little detail that day. Those several minutes I spent outside at the mercy of a live thunderstorm left such a huge impression on me! The incessant rain keeping me tethered to the ground, the sheer volume of deafening thunder cracking so hard and so loudly that the air around me quaked... pair that with times I’ve enjoyed feeling myself at the mercy of heavy winds, or even the smell of the outside after rain falls...

...pretty much all of that served as the biggest source of inspiration behind the wind and storm-oriented zanpakutō, and I wanted Kōta to embody that himself.

Besides, aside from Senna herself in Memories of Nobody, the Gotei 13 lacked a dedicated air-manipulating shinigami barring Kensei’s unique take on the topic with Tachikaze, and we’ve only seen antagonists use this power (Dordoni of the Arrancar within the main story, Kariya if you want to go filler with the Bounts... whom I’ve honestly forgotten about prior to creating Kōta WHOOPS) in the traditional sense. Not to mention, air as an element is SUPER malleable and there’s so much you can do with it if you get creative?? So, given we’ve got some real powerful element-leaning shinigami already with water (lbr Kaien would’ve been a beast had he not been nixed), fire (Yama), snow (Tosh), and electricity (Sasakibe), why not keep adding to the idea?

With that, we’ve got the main concept locked down. Powers and general theme? Check. Bird-like zanpakutō spirit? Check. Defined attacks? ...noooooot quite there yet—in fact, those were a fairly late addition well after the blog reboot. As for what led to it, this never took off since the other mun blipped on an indefinite hiatus, but our thread would have likely turned into a fight thread between our muses and uh...

...yeah, I realized named techniques are kind of an important thing to have, especially when writing within the context of an action-oriented series like Bleach. It wasn’t just about the cool factor, but having a readily available kit for reference (for myself, my writing partners, and folks reading in) was a must, not to mention it helped better define just what his main friggin’ weapon is capable of like those of most of the existing cast. In case a fight thread does come around in the future, it’d be an ideal thing to have ready to go and bring him further up to par with other fighters!

Just like that, I subjected myself to extra homework. Coming up with the moves themselves came to me simply enough, in seeing how air was played with in other media I was familiar with (key ones being Sonic the Hedgehog, The Legend of Zelda, and Avatar: The Last Airbender) and fashioning some of my own spins on top of some original ideas. I knew I wanted to lean hard on the bird motif since his zan spirit is a tengu, and given the wide variety of things the element of air/wind can do, I thought to make full connections between the two by theming each special move after certain species of bird! Creating those moves and naming them were the easy parts.

Naming them, that is, in English. Naming them all in Japanese was, by far, the hardest part. Why? Parce que je ne suis pas japonais, et aussi parce que je ne parle pas la langue, you see. On top of language barriers, the Japanese tongue operates on a whole other set of rules, compared to the Latin/Germanic-based ones I’ve grown used to with English, French, and (at one point) German. I did take some Japanese classes as an elective back in university, but that was only in first year – my own understanding, as a result, was threadbare and surface level at best, so that was not going to get me anywhere. I did not want to half-ass it with romaji and I love Bleach too much to not want to do these ideas justice.

I am a stickler when it comes to detail and canon-compliance, so getting the naming right by abiding to the proper conventions as best as I possibly could became my topmost priority. Google Translate was not going to fly because lord knows it’s no good without proper context between wholly different languages in English and Japanese, and it only gets wilder once you throw Chinese into the mix, given I’m supposed to use kanji. Thus, the name of the game here turned out to be “reverse engineering,” and I had to go in accepting I probably wasn’t going to get it 100% right the first time.

“What rules do zanpakutō names and special attack names follow?” “How do I apply on- or kun-reading in spelling out a group of certain kanji?” “Where are the common denominators in those rules that I can identify?” “Which language conventions have I already picked up from watching god knows how much anime over the years that I can replicate?” “Which set of words best conveys this particular English word that has no direct Japanese translation?” “How does [x] roll off the tongue? Does it sound right and fluid enough, or does it still feel super stilted and weird?” It was a loooooooot of this until I was finally satisfied with each individual end result!

Tl;dr: Jisho.org and Wikipedia were godsends during this whole process. I also want to thank @tigrextoque who gave me some helpful pointers after the fact!

ALSO... the ones on the Battle Info page aren’t even all of the ones I’ve thought about. Because I’m a glutton for punishment apparently, I purposely went and submitted a request for a certain ask meme on an ask meme source blog, JUST so I could play around with more ideas that came or would come to mind. This time, however, it was through the form of COMBINATION ATTACKS (which, by virtue alone, are honestly peak awesomeness). Those that implicated other shinigami got new bird motifs to meld the aesthetics of both muses, while I did get a couple of Quincy ones (with their referenced attacks actually using romaji as a base! Whoo-hoo for saving me the effort!) as a bonus to mix things up!

I’ll link them all right here (and later on the Battle Info page) for your convenience:

Noboru no mai, Shiro Fukurō (騰の舞・白梟, Rising Dance, Snowy Owl), with Rukia Kuchiki

Ahōdori Kyōka: Flying Battery (群烏強化: フライングバッテリー, Albatross Strengthening: Flying Battery) with Bambietta Basterbine

Muragarasu Kyōka: Galvano Volley (群烏強化: ガルヴァノボレー, Flock of Crows Strengthening: Galvano Volley), plus upgraded variant Muragarasu Kyōka: Galvano Storm (群烏強化: ガルヴァノストーム, Flock of Crows Strengthening: Galvano Storm), with Candice Catnipp

Hagetaka Rinbu (禿鷹輪舞, Vulture Round Dance) with Rangiku Matsumoto

Senkō-fū: Kitsutsuki (穿孔風: 啄木鳥, Drilling Wind: Woodpecker) with Nemu Kurotsuchi

Gyaku-fū Fūsa: Benizuru (逆風封鎖: 紅��, Headwind Blockade: Flamingo) with Byakuya Kuchiki

Hikuidori Hinshō (火食鳥頻傷, Cassowary Frequent Cuts) with Ueno Chie

Yes, “Flying Battery” was a deliberately written Sonic the Hedgehog reference. No, I will never apologize for that.

...might I reblog that meme again in the future though...?

...probably not right away.

So, uh... Plou, I should probably apologize for giving you a lot more than you likely bargained for, but hey, I just didn’t want to leave any stone unturned! Thank you so much for sending me your three questions, I enjoyed writing these little deep dives into my Bleach OC, and thanks for taking interest in Kōta! I hope all of my responses have been both enlightening and to your satisfaction.

#deivorous #{ i’m falling free in the wind ☁ headcanon ☁ }#{ cut for length }#{ whispers in the wind ☁ replies ☁ }#{ beyond the sky ☁ ooc ☁ }#{ ooc: we hope to return to our regular programming tomorrow-! }#{ i just could not focus much until i answered all of these hahahaha- }

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mandadoration · 5 years ago

Text

you’re a fine girl - i

summary: Agent Whiskey would really like you to say his real name for once, and you refuse, playing this little game of his until he finally makes you say it. The circumstances for it aren’t exactly ideal, though.

word count: 3, 758

pairing: agent whiskey (Jack Daniels) x reader

warnings: canon-typical violence (and then some), swearing

a/n: Don’t ask me how the layout of Statesman HQ works. I really don’t know, and I’ve watched the movie to try and glean some more info, but I’ve decided, like many things, to bullshit it. This will have a predetermined length of three chapters!

chapters: i

Read this on AO3

You think it’s hilarious just how stereotypically American the Statesman agency was. Besides the front of it, a Bourbon whiskey distillery that just happens to have racehorses (you never understood that part) on a large expanse of land and have a large influence on the liquor industry all over the US, the agents that were a part of it were just so in-your-face full-blooded American. Hell, even your equipment reflected that, with electric lassos and souped-up sawed-off double barrel shotguns, to cowboy boots with razor sharp spurs and Stetsons designed for stealth and espionage. Statesman was 100% committed to proudly showing off their roots. But you couldn’t really shit on them too much since you were one of their agents as well. That would be severely discrediting you and the work you do.

Even if some of the agents teasingly call you a city-slicker.

Although you were a Statesman through and through like your mother before you, you had been raised on the less… southern half of the country because of where she was mainly stationed. Good ol’ New York was a whole different territory than Kentucky. She had still made sure you kept up with your training and be ready at a moment’s notice to take over for her. Statesman were proud of their line of agents, names often passed down from parent to child. Built in loyalty, you supposed, and a good way to keep an eye on those who knew secrets. As the world expanded and keeping the peace grew harder by the minute, they’ve strayed far from that tradition, and the organization grew to include people that had no prior connection to it. Your mom had been insistent she at least stay true to that part of Statesman, and often showed you how to watch over New York from the high rise building to groom you for the position in the future until you graduated from your unofficial codename of Ice Tea. But you had moved south to live on a small ranch a few miles from the distillery after she had died on a recon mission instead of staying up north in the concrete jungle. You inherited her position and her moniker as Agent Brandy, supervisor of the intelligence part of the agency and relocating to home base at the same time, but Agent Whiskey had taken up position up in New York in your stead.

Speaking of Whiskey, there he was, sauntering up to you with a smile playing on his lips as you flicked through reports on your tablet. You spare him a quick glance and a polite smile before you turn your attention back to the reports and mission debriefs, hoping that was enough to leave you alone, but instead he leans against your desk and crosses his arms, and you try your damndest not to look at how his arms make the seams on his jacket strain.

There’s no animosity between you and Whiskey at all, and you’ve said as much when Champagne informed him he would be taking over the New York territory instead of you. You didn’t feel guilty or mad or anything really that you decided to move closer to Statesman because it was your choice, and Whiskey had taken it in stride. You two were just doing your jobs, and that was all. You would even go to say that you were close friends with him, giving him pointers about the secrets of New York while he told you all the gossip about the other agents. The work he did would make your mother proud.

But why was he so insistent on hanging around at the Statesman headquarters in Kentucky so much?

“Your mission debrief isn’t scheduled until Tuesday, Agent Whiskey,” you say, eyes roving over your calendar before swiftly swiping it off your screen to pay closer attention to Tequila’s report. That man was awful with writing. Did he even have the spell check on? You click your tongue and run the editing software, intent on letting that run in the background while you browsed through various agent requests (there was Gin asking if you could fashion a 200 proof liquor), but Whiskey puts a hand on your tablet and pushes it out of your view.

“I know, sugar,” he says in that damn Southern accent that manages to make your ears burn. “Just thought I’d come down here to see my favorite intelligence supervisor.” You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that threatens to split your face. You turn your tablet off and put it down.

“Do you know many intelligence supervisors?” you ask, but your efforts to get him to leave are already an afterthought at the back of your mind. Every time you hold a conversation with him, the amalgamation of your New York and Southern accent sounds crass compared to the honeyed drawl of Whiskey. Two completely different regions. You suppose he might feel the same whenever he’s in New York. Perhaps you two had more in common than you had initially thought.

You’re off track. It’s maddening how easily he is able to pull a smile or a laugh from you and completely derail you. Even on the worst of your days, he’s able to ease you with just a reassuring smile or touch. Whiskey shrugs and shifts where he sits.

“You got me there,” he laughs. “But that don’t mean I can’t come see you, does it?” You rest your chin on your hand as you fiddle with your tablet pen. He’s trimmed his mustache, you note.

“I suppose it doesn’t, Agent Whiskey,” you say. Anytime he flies over to the Statesman HQ, you usually see him the same day he lands, if not, you’re the first thing he goes to see. It’s sweet.

“What does it take for me to convince you to call me Jack, sweetheart?” Whiskey asks, nearly whines, really. He’s been insisting you call him by his real name in private recently, insisting that you were far past those formalities.

“When you stop calling me those pet names of yours,” you retort back. He looks mock-offended.

“That’s never gonna happen,” Whiskey says. You raise an eyebrow.

“Then there you have your answer,” you say simply, and go to pick up your tablet again when it chimes, but Whiskey stops you and pushes it back down flat against the desk.

“You work too much,” he says, as if that was a decent enough reason to interrupt your work. “Pay some attention to me instead.”

“And I’m starting to think you don’t work enough,” you sigh, and slide the tablet out from under his hand and you turn it back on and check over the editing software. “God knows you spend enough time pestering me.” You don’t tell him that you don’t mind. In the hectic pace in your lives, Whiskey is a nice constant that you find yourself falling back on.

The software has managed to fix most of the typos and obvious grammar issues, but it’s mangled the nuances of Tequila’s informal writing. You sigh again and swipe the report onto your computer screen to manually edit it before you can send it to Champagne. Whiskey hops off of your desk, and he walks around it to lean over your shoulder to skim the report as well.

He’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. Smoky, mellow, and warm.

“Why don’t you just send that off to Ginger to edit? Or Soda?” he asks, voice rumbling in your ear. “‘m sure you have other things to do other than grade Tequila’s piss poor work.” You clear your throat and try your best not to become too distracted.

“They don’t have high enough clearance to read this report,” you answer. “Nor do I think they have the patience to. Besides, Ginger is tech and Soda is medical. They’d either shoot themselves or shoot me.” Whiskey laughs and leans in a little closer.

“But I have the clearance to read this as you edit?” he asks, voice low. “You flatter me, Brandy.” You blink, then gasp, whirling around in your chair and narrowly missing clipping his chin with the back of your chair as you push him away from you and back around your desk, smacking him as you do.

“You are a menace!” you exclaim. Whiskey just laughs, humoring you and letting you push him when it would be frightfully easy to just stand there. He blocks your hits and eventually grabs a hold of your wrists to stop you.

“You love it,” he says, and your face flushes as you try to scowl at him.

“Get out of my office so I can finish this report,” you order, pointing at the door. Whiskey pouts, but makes his way to the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighs. He tips his hat at you. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, sweet thing,” he says in a sing-song voice, and the door clicks shut behind him before you can do some serious bodily harm to his person.

---

You don’t really know what constitutes being “a good girl”, and you don’t really have the chance to find out because you meet with Whiskey again a few hours after he had barged into your office when Champagne calls you up to discuss some technicalities that he had remained vague on.

It’s a short underground tube ride to the Statesman office building a few miles outside the distillery, and an even shorter elevator up to the top floor. Whiskey is already there when you walk in, so you go ahead and take a seat across from him, pulling up your notes in case anything important pops up. You give him a small wave, and he tips his hat at you with a smile. You turn to the man sitting at the head of the table.

“Well, Champ,” Whiskey says, “why’d you call us here?” Champagne fiddles with the lid of a decanter of whiskey before he smacks his lips together and leans back in his chair.

“Statesman is considering adding another location in California, and I need your expertise,” he announces. He motions to you. “Sent the plans to your tablet, Brandy, but here’s the gist.” The t.v. screen at the other end of the table switches from Statesman stocks to a blueprint of a high rise located in San Francisco, alongside some smaller buildings scattered over the city. “I’m planning on sending Chardonnay over to oversee construction, but this is only the third location to be located in such a large city.” You skim over the notes. Although they wouldn’t be building a distillery, there would be a sub-HQ over there, as well as some Statesman-sponsored bars to keep up surveillance. “The first one being New York, and the other in Nevada.”

“Is there something we should keep an eye on?” you ask, scrolling through various material requests. While the other could handle the usual materials, you would have to put in a special order for the military grade stuff. “What’s the occasion?” Champagne shrugs when you glance over your tablet.

“It’s been something I’ve been thinking about,” he says. “Stocks are doing good, and there's no looming threat- seems like a good time as any.” You nod.

“Then why us?” Whiskey asks. “I think Brandy is more than capable of handling this herself.” Champagne furrows his brows.

“You are in charge of our New York office, aren’t you?”

“Brandy grew up preparing to take over for it,” Whiskey says.

“Well--”

“He’s right, sir,” you pipe in. “Whiskey’s about to go in for a mission anyways. There’s no point loading his already full plate. I can handle it.” Champagne presses his mouth in a hard line, but eventually taps the table.

“Alright then. Brandy, I’ll let Chardonnay know you’ll be taking part in it so he can refer to you with questions. Agents, you’re dismissed.”

Whiskey moves for the door, but pauses when you don’t follow him. You wave him off. “I’ll catch up with you; just need to talk to Champagne about something.” He nods, and leaves. You back around to face Champagne with narrowed eyes. “What are you up to, old man?” He tilts his head and pours some whiskey into his glass.

“What do you mean?”

“Bringing Whiskey into this,” you clarify. “You know I can handle this project by myself; why try to rope him in?”

“Thought it be a good experience,” Champagne says, taking a sip and swishing it around his mouth before he turns to spit it out into the spitoon. You wrinkle your nose.

“For Whiskey?”

“For the both of you,” he corrects. “Whiskey gets to learn more about the technical aspects, you get to, well, spend time with him.” You raise an eyebrow.

“And I want to spend time with him because…?”

“Don’t you know?” Champagne asks. You shake your head.

“What? We’re good friends, but we’ve got different jobs,” you say. “So I don’t see a reason why I should be spending time with him outside of what’s necessary.” Champagne just hums with a pensive look on his face.

“Alright then, girl.” He waves a hand at you. “Off to work.” And Champagne doesn’t elaborate any further.

---

You are far too busy trying to sort out the semantics of some sort of stirrings of a coup on a Chilean website to go and debrief Whiskey when Tuesday rolls around, so you send Ginger in your stead. She accepts without complaint, but you can see how she frowns when you tell her so. You’ve never gotten the details as to why the two never seem to get along, but Ginger is the most capable person you can think of to take care of things when you’re not able to.

It takes you a solid 45 minutes to try and go through the Chilean Spanish compared to the Castilian variant you know, but you determine that the rumors of a coup bears no real weight and all it is are empty threats despite the traction it’s gained so far. You suppose you could’ve run the translation, but there were too many nuances and codes that couldn’t be translated over. Just to be sure, you set up a surveillance bot to continue to track the progress and alert you if anything significant happens. By the time you do, Ginger walks in, looking a little frazzled. You frown. “You good, Liz?” Ginger just puts down the debrief folder on your desk as she plops down in the chair across from you. You raise an eyebrow, but slide the folder over and survey the notes she’s taken during the debrief. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Whiskey complaining that he has to fly to Spain to deal with some black market firearms dealers that have gotten too confident. Apparently last time he was there, some sailors tried to swindle him. There’s some quotes of his with choice words in the margins saying so, accompanied by a doodle of him with an angry expression. “Whiskey give you a hard time?” you guess. She nods and takes off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I honestly don’t understand how you can stand him sometimes,” she says. You shrug.

“He treats me fine, if not a little persistent,” you note mildly. Ginger snorts and puts her glasses back on. “Hasn’t given me a reason to dislike him. Yet.”

“That’s ‘cause he likes you,” she says. Your stomach flutters at her comment. Then after a moment of pondering, Ginger says, “Think he was in a bad mood because you weren’t the one debriefing him.” You frown.

“Would it have mattered if I did?” you ask. “You’re perfectly capable.”

“It’s not capability,” Ginger sighs, leaning forward and resting her forearms on your desk. The motion jostles the cup of pens on your desk and you reach to adjust it back to its place. You click a few things on your computer to pull up the flight details for Whiskey. Scheduled for 5:50pm, an overnight flight that lands in a remote location in Madrid where then he would be promptly escorted to Andalucia.

You wonder if he’ll come visit you before he leaves.

You shake the thought out of your head before you go back to look at Ginger, who’s looking at you curiously. “If not capability, then what?” you ask, fighting to keep down the blush that’s threatening to overtake your face.

“You really don’t know?” she asks, almost critically. You furrow your brows. There’s that question again.

“Is there something I should know?”

Before Ginger can answer, a knock resounds at your door. You give Ginger an apologetic look before you call out, “Come in!” You don’t know why you’re surprised, but it’s Whiskey, again, with a bright smile on his face before his eyes darken at the sight of Ginger. She bristles.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, reaching over and giving your hand a small pat before she gets up to brush past Whiskey, and she closes the door behind you. Whiskey seems to relax at that, and takes the seat she was in.

“If you’re here to complain about going to Spain, Agent Whiskey, I can’t do anything about it,” you immediately say before he can get a word in. He takes off his hat and puts it on your desk, running a hand through his hair.

“I wasn’t here to complain,” Whiskey says, chuckling. “You wound me, Brandy.” He puts a hand over his heart and stares at you with a woefully sad face, looking at you with big, warm brown eyes, akin to a kicked puppy. “Missed my favorite intelligence supervisor at the debriefing.” You throw a pen at him, but he just catches it and puts it in with the rest without breaking eye contact.

“Doubt you’re here just to see me,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your flight?”

“I’ve got time,” Whiskey says. “If I remember correctly, it’s not until 6:00. Gives me a little under 2 hours until I gotta leave.”

“5:50,” you correct him automatically. “So less than that. You’ll wanna leave in an hour or so to account for traffic.” The grin that spreads across his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

“You keepin’ track of when I’m ‘bout to leave?” he purrs, leaning forward. You scoff, but think in the back of your mind that there’s some truth to that.

“I’m the one that booked your flight with Triple Sec,” you say dryly. “Be weird if I didn’t know what time exactly, Agent Whiskey.” Whiskey hums, but leans back in his chair and spreads his legs in an almost obscene matter that leaves you thrumming in your skin.

“Jack,” he says.

“Hm?”

“My name is Jack.” You laugh.

“I know what your name is, Agent,” you say. “It’s kinda my job to know everybody. Feel like we’ve already talked about this about a million times by now.”

“Still, it’d be nice to hear you say it,” he says, almost absentmindedly as he picks at his nails, brows furrowed in a vulnerable expression. Your face falls at his soft tone. To be honest, your refusal to say his name was more because you perceived it as a game. Whiskey would press you to actually call him by his name, and you would coyly refuse, and he would leave with a promise that he would get you to say it one way or another. But something is clearly bugging him.

You reach a hand forward, towards him, touching the other edge of your desk. Close enough for him to reach for it. His gaze snaps to your hand, and something tells you that Whiskey wants to. There is some kind of longing in his eyes that the firm, hard line of his mouth is trying its hardest not to betray. “You okay?” Whiskey’s fingers twitch. Something holds him back.

He clears his voice, forcing a smile on his face, and the moment is broken. “Right as rain, sugar,” he says. “Pre-mission jitters, I suppose.” You suppose that’s not totally unwarranted. Whiskey would be going on into the field on his own due to the delicacy of the mission, the only backup available being Triple Sec piloting the plane. And, well, Whiskey didn’t exactly blend in with the typical Madrid population with his loud voice and louder personality. Statesman didn’t have a base out in Europe either. You give him a reassuring smile, and you try not to think too hard at how the tension seems to melt out of him at that.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” you soothe. You retract your hand, and honestly at this point it seems as though Agent Whiskey has taken up permanent residence in your mind because you swear you spot some sort of deep emotion as his eyes trail after it. “Just like you always do, Whiskey.” The muscles in Whiskey’s jaw work as he clenches his teeth together before he claps his hands and stands up, that same charming smile on his face but not quite reaching his eyes.

“Well I suppose that is some improvement!” he says. You tilt your head.

“What do you mean?” Whiskey pulls the flask off his belt and takes a swig.

“Got you to say my codename without all the preamble, now, didn’t I?” he says, winking at you. You stammer and flush red with embarrassment. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Now before you start wailing on me like last time,” he says, “I’ll see myself out. Like you said, I still need to pack. I’ll see if I can bring back a souvenir for you while I’m across the pond.” You cross your arms.

“That won’t be necessary.” Whiskey shrugs and heads for the door.

“Can’t stop me, can you?” You smile at him.

“Guess not,” you say, almost to yourself, then your gaze falls to his hat still sitting on your desk. “Wait, Whiskey, your--” He holds up a hand.

“Hold on to it while I’m gone, ‘kay?” he asks. You nod. “Good girl. Give me something to look forward to when I come back.” You make a motion to grab a pen, bursting out laughing when he moves to catch it when you feign a throw. He smiles, too, more genuinely this time. “See you in a couple days, darling.”

And you can’t help but start to miss him when the door clicks shut behind him.

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey reader #agent whiskey x you #whiskey x reader #whiskey x you #whiskey reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels reader #jack daniels you #kingsman reader #kingsman #agent whiskey #whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman the golden circle #my writing

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years ago

Text

Storm and Fire ✘Rafe Cameron✘

The masterlist for the rest of the series is here! Ocean and Alcohol

gif not mine! all credit to toesure!

word count - 4.0k warnings - swearing. pining to the MAX, underage drinking and mentions of drugs synopsis - Rafe Cameron didn’t realize he loved her until it was far too late. She was a ball of anger and rage, secluded, closed off. And Rafe wanted nothing more than to call her his. But then she meets someone else and Rafe feels his world falling apart. tagging - @bitterbethany @lovelymaybankk @ilymarkchan @downbytheouterbanks @clearcolourlessglass @obxwriterfan @tangledinsparkles @chill-sushi @summerintheobx @kiarasgold @lovelyfreshfestival @lolitstiana @divcrdown @certainstatesmantoadartisan @hannahrisacher @drew-starkeys @jiaraendgame @beyondtheselegsonlythoughts @parkerpetertingle @lukesvinyll @thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars @simonsbluee @diverrdown a/n - So, this is an “Ocean and Alcohol” short from Rafe’s perspective. I thought of this late last night and I just really wanted to write it, so, we’ll see how it goes. I tagged everyone who was a part of the Ocean and Alcohol series because it’s technically a part of it. So, hopefully you enjoy! Also, I just realized that Elma is super similar to Elmo and now I can’t stop laughing. Anyway, Stay safe, healthy, and groovy!!

***

Rafe was nine years old when he first met Elma. His dad and Gerald, Elma’s father, started to work together as close partners. That mean Elma, at seven years old, and her baby brother, were over at the Ward residence often. She spent most of her time taking care of Bradford and the rest of her time playing with Sarah. She barely even looked at Rafe.

Until he made her. He wasn’t 100% sure why he did it, but he started picking fun at her, just to get her attention. It didn’t bother her, almost as if she had heard it all before. It made Sarah angrier than it did Elma.

It took time, but he slowly learned what things made her more agitated than others. Calling her by her first name was one. Messing around with Bradford was another. If he could poke at the little things for long enough, she would explode. And then her attention was nowhere else but on him.

The first time she hit him, he wasn’t prepared for her to be so strong. He hit her right back, despite the pain in his face from her fist. They swung at each other, pulling each other to the ground before either of their parents could get them off.

The two of them learned rather quickly that punching each other meant getting pulled apart and separated and Rafe couldn’t have that. Instead of punching, they started “play” fighting. Rolling around in the grass or trying to drown each other in the pool or shoving each other back and forth, it didn’t matter as long as no one actually swung. Both sets of parents would laugh and watch them, thinking it was all fun and games.

Elma really wanted to kill him. Rafe just wanted to be the center of her attention.

The years past. Elma got more and more angry, making it easier for him to get on her bad side. Asking her about strange bruises or her broken nose or the cut on Bradford’s eyebrow was always a sure way to get her fired up.

And then her mom left. The weeks following up to her departure, Elma was untouchable. If Rafe even looked at her, she flinched. So, he left her alone. But news went around quickly that her mom had up and left in the middle of the night. No one knew why and no one asked.

Elma changed after that. It was like she grew up over night. She got a job, dropped out of the academy, barely ever left her house. She was ten times more protective of her brother, who had taken the name Kid. It was also ten times harder to make her angry.

Rafe didn’t see her for almost an entire year. The first time he saw her was at a party. She was dancing with his sister, downing a cup of something or another. Rafe’s heart spiked at the sight of her. She moved to the beat of the music, her hips swaying like trees in the wind.

Heart pounding in his chest, Rafe walked over to the dance floor. But when Elma opened her eyes and saw him, the only look she gave her was one of disgust. He was taken aback by the contempt in her eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was saying something horrible to her. He didn’t even hear what he said, but he watched her storm away and saw the irritated look on Sarah’s face.

“Why are you such a douche?” Sarah asked, pushing past him. Rafe pursed his lips, his hand tightening around his red solo cup.

“Dude, that was kinda harsh,” Kelce agreed from the side.

“Shut up,” Rafe growled, turning and walking away.

He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just walk up to Elma and tell her that she was beautiful or that he admired the fire that was in her eyes. All he could get to come out of his mouth was his own hatred. At this point, he had spent the last eight years calling her names, picking fights, pushing her around. There was no way he was going to be able to move on from it, no way he could repair the damage he had done. Still, she never even looked at him if he wasn’t insulting her.

He saw her at almost every party. Drinking, dancing, smoking. His brain didn’t register the bruises on her thighs or the redness of her cheeks because he had never seen her without it. It was just part of her. She came with bruises and marks and cuts. That was just Elma.

Almost every party ended with her hitting him or storming away with tears in her eyes. In her year of disappearance, she had gotten stronger. Her punches weren’t that of a child anymore.

Two years passed in the same way. Rafe got hooked on drugs. They distracted him from the constant fear of the future, from his insecurities, from the words that his father had drilled into his head, from the pain of losing his mom, from the dull ache that Elma’s absence left him. But it made him angrier and it made it much easier for him to say things he didn’t really mean.

And then, of course, there were the boys. They practically fell at her feet. Her mysterious yet powerful aura was a magnet to them all. She could have any one she wanted. There were nights when Rafe had to watch as she pulled someone deep into the woods, left to his imagination what had happened between them. On the occasion that she stuck around with whatever boy she chose, Rafe couldn’t help but stare.

The rage in his stomach that his jealousy created made him sick. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The way she leaned into whoever it was, her lips moving perfectly in sync with his. His hands were on her waist, pulling her in closer and she complied. The smile on her face when the boy’s lips moved from hers to graze across her neck was almost enough to make Rafe walk over and beat the boy into the sand so he could take his place.

He wanted to taste her lips, her skin. He wanted it to be his hands on her waist, her hands in his hair. He would kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, pulling her closer, deeper, until she was completely his.

But he never got the chance.

One warm spring evening, he rolled up to a party with his two best friends. They usually kept him in check, especially when it came to her, but tonight was different. Ward Cameron had really drilled into him about responsibilities, consequences, money, family, a job. Rafe didn’t want any of that and thinking about it all made him want to vomit.

Instead, he snorted a line and went to a party.

He saw her as soon as he and his friends pulled up. Elma was already dancing with his sister, her eyes closed, her body moving to the beat of the music. And he was captivated. The way she could just ignore the world and be there, dancing, without a single fuck to give made her the most beautiful person in the world to him. But it also made him undeniably angry that he wasn’t dancing beside her.

“Hey Elma!” He called out to her before he could hold his tongue. “Did you learn to dance like that from your mommy?”

Ice ran through him when he realized what he said. Her eyes snapped open and Rafe knew that he had taken it one step too far. She hopped down from tree trunk she had been dancing on and made her way toward him. His heart stopped in his chest at the sight of the fire in her eyes. Part of him wondered if she was going to punch him in the face right there. A part of him wanted her to.

But she just stormed right past him.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she seethed as she passed. He could feel the heat of her anger. It was the closest he was going to get to feeling the heat of her affection, he knew that. And he relished in it.

That feeling faded when he saw who else was watching her leave.

Rafe had always hated JJ Maybank. He was everything that Rafe disliked about pogues. Cocky, arrogant, free to do whatever they pleased. No responsibilities, no one breathing down their necks. And JJ was the worst of them.

Seeing JJ watch Elma leave, a smile pulling at his lips, made Rafe hate him even more.

JJ turned to his friend, the one who worked on Rafe’s dad’s boat, and whispered something. Rafe’s blood boiled. Given the opportunity, Rafe had no doubt that Elma would fall right into JJ’s arms if she let herself. He couldn’t let that happen.

JJ crossed the sand, making his way toward the fallen trunk where Elma had been dancing. He picked up Elma’s shoes and her purse, John B right behind him. Chest heaving, Rafe’s eyes followed the two boys as they snuck off in the same direction Elma had gone.

“Dude,” Topper put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Are you good?”

Rafe didn’t look at his friend but downed the rest of the drink in his cup instead. He barely tasted it as it ran down his throat. There was one thing on his mind and one thing only; make sure, at whatever cost, that JJ Maybank would never touch Elma.

“Wanna go beat up some Pogues?” He asked, turning toward his two friends. Topper and Kelce scowled at each other. “Come on.”

Even if they weren’t completely on board, neither stayed behind when he hurried off after JJ and John B. He caught up to the quickly.

“Hey!” He shouted, just before placing a hand on JJ’s shoulder and swinging a fist into his jaw.

“What the fuck, man?” John B shouted and ran forward to help his friend, but not before Kelce and Topper grabbed hold of him and held him back. JJ barely had time to defend himself before Rafe started to beat him into the sand.

“You stay away from her, you hear?” Rafe seethed, holding the other boy’s shirt in his clenched fist. Rafe lifted his fist to hit JJ again, but before he could, someone tackled him to the ground. What he had just been doing to JJ was now being done to him. A flurry of fists pounded against his face. It wasn’t until his attacker started speaking that he figured out who it was.

“I learned this from my daddy!” Elma shouted, a punch with each word. Pain splintered across his skin, but it was better than the hollow feeling in his chest he got when she wasn’t around. She was a storm; wild, furious, unrelenting.

“Look out!” JJ yelled, still trying to push himself out of the sand. Topper grabbed Elma by the waist and threw her off of Rafe and into the sand. Rafe’s head spun, blood dripping from his nose. Topper stood over Elma, kicking her stomach. Rafe wanted to stand up and stop him, but he could barely see through his blurry vision.

“Lay off her, man!” John B called as Kelce let him go to help Rafe off the ground. He moved to help Elma, but not before JJ yanked Topper away and threw him to the ground. Kelce pulled Rafe to his feet, watching as JJ gave Topper the beating that he wanted to. Elma was on the ground, gasping for breath, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

John B helped Elma to her feet. Rafe swallowed a thick lump in his throat as she stood beside the pogue. This was the very last thing that Rafe ever wanted. Not only was she standing against him, she was standing with his sworn enemy. She was standing beside everything he hated.

“JJ, that’s enough,” John B said. JJ finally stopped hitting Topper, looking up. Rafe barely even felt bad for his friend.

“Let him go, man,” Elma said, her voice wheezing ever so slightly. A hand still rested on her side where Topper had been kicking her.

But Rafe didn’t care. Not right now. His vision was red and not just from his blood. She had betrayed him, betrayed her own kind. Sure, she had gotten in her fair share of fights with the Kooks, but never had she fought for a pogue before. And from the look in her eyes, she didn’t even care.

“This isn’t over,” Rafe ground out, spitting a glob of blood into the sand as Topper stood and joined him and Kelce. Elma sneered, crossing her arms.

“Go cry to Mommy.” A visceral desire to tear her throat out bubbled inside of Rafe at her words. “Oh, wait-”

Rafe lunged, but Kelce and Topper held him back. She didn’t even flinch.

“She’s not worth it, man,” Kelce told Rafe, pushing him back. Rafe knew he was wrong. She was worth it. She was worth everything. The coldness of her gaze turned Rafe’s stomach to stone. He let his friends lead him away.

Rafe spent the next week hating her. Hating her for not caring. Hating her for standing beside JJ and John B when she should be standing next to him. Hating her for letting him get under her skin. He hated her so much, he tried to get her in trouble at a dinner party at her house. Like always, she managed to turn it back onto him. He got the lecture, not her. For once in her life, why couldn’t she just take the blame? Why did he always get the smack down from his parents? She lived her perfect little life with her loving dad and her great relationship with her brother and he had parents who expected more from him than he could provide.

He assumed she would be at the party at his house on Friday. She had never missed a party in the last two years. Rafe had no idea how she managed to convince her dad to let her go, but she did. Rafe wondered if he wanted to even see her. He still hated her, especially after the party on the beach. But maybe he could apologize and ask for her forgiveness.

Rafe almost scoffed to himself.

By the time the party started, he was already high off his ass and ready to get drunk. He watched the door, waiting for Elma to walk inside. When she did, Rafe could tell she felt uncomfortable. She was twisting her fingers, rolling her lip between her teeth. She took the first drink offered to her, downing it in seconds.

God, it was hot when she did that.

Rafe watched her walk over to Sarah, taking another drink from someone else. She talked with Sarah and her friends, laughing, chatting, dancing. For two hours, Rafe held his cup and just watched her. Kelce was trying to talk to him about something, but Rafe didn’t hear him.

And then the pogues attacked. Well, not attacked, but they definitely crashed the party. They brought more booze, which was always welcome. As long as they didn’t start anything, the already plastered kooks didn’t care. Rafe tried to ignore JJ as he burst into his house with a keg in his hand. But what he couldn’t ignore was the way Elma booked it out the back door at the sight of him.

Rafe knew instantly that something had happened between them, something more than just banding together in a fight. Elma had never run away from anything ever, so if she was scampering away in the way she did, whatever had happened wasn’t good.

Rafe followed her out onto his back porch. She was staring up at the moon, leaning against the railing as she sipped on something in a cup. Rafe couldn’t help as his eyes grazed over her body, his breath hitching in his throat. She was beautiful, shining in the light of the moon and the stars. He wanted to put his hands on her hips, take her somewhere no one could see them, kiss her until he was swallowed whole by the fire that raged within her.

He opened his mouth instead.

“What are you doing here, Elma?” He asked. He had maybe intended it to be a nice question, almost like a “funny seeing you here”, but his tone was harsh, cold. He listened to her sigh and watched her hang her head.

“I’m enjoying the party, Rafe.” She wouldn’t even look at him.

“I don’t want you in my house.” He didn’t know why he said it. He did want her in his house. More than that, he wanted her in his room, in his bed. He wanted her completely.

“First of all, this isn’t your house. Second, your sister invited me here. And lastly, as you can see-” She motioned up to the sky. “I am clearly not inside.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Standing so close to her but not touching her...he couldn’t do it.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist before he knew fully what he was doing, spinning her around to face him. She was glaring up at him and there was that storm again. Her lips were right there, forming hateful words, but he didn’t care. He just wanted her.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Get out.” The words came from him like vomit. He didn’t mean them. He didn’t want her to go. Even just holding her wrist, he could feel the heat and the fire that he desired, the electricity that crackled between his hand and her wrist.

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“What are you gonna do, hit me again?”

“Yeah,” she seethed, eyes narrowing even further. “I might.”

Her hands curled into fists and Rafe knew that she just might do exactly that, but before she could, someone else stepped out on to the porch.

“Let her go, Rafe.” There he was again. JJ, that pest. Always weaseling his way into other people’s business. But he wasn’t going to stop Rafe, not when Elma was so close, closer than she had ever been. He could feel her breath against his skin and it lit a fire beneath him.

He didn’t take his gaze away from her, even when she rolled her eyes at JJ and downed the rest of her drink.

“This is none of your business, pogue,” Rafe said finally when it was clear that JJ wasn’t going to walk away. He took a step forward.

There was something in Elma’s eyes, something like anger, a need for revenge.

“Rafe-”

She turned toward JJ finally, tilting her head to the side as a hint of a wicked smile pulled at her lips.

“Hey, Maybank,” she said. Rafe hated even hearing that other boy’s name leave her lips. “Shut up and learn to read a room, maybe.”

Before giving either of them time to react, Elma put a hand around Rafe’s neck and pulled him down toward her.

With her lips on his, Rafe felt like he was on fire. His stomach dropped, heart jumping into his throat. It was everything like he always dreamed, better. His shock passed and he found himself kissing her back.

Heat spread through every inch of his body. He let go of her wrist, putting both of his hands on her waist to pull her in closer, tighter. He leaned into her as far as she would let him. Her lips were soft, but she was angry, hungry for something that wasn’t him. He knew that she didn’t want him, that the person she wanted to be kissing had just walked away. But Rafe didn’t care. He would soak up as much of her downpour as he could, feeling his heart thunder in his chest.

When she pulled away, the fire died and Rafe felt suddenly cold. His eyes still shut, he begged the warmth to linger, but it didn’t. He knew that she said something to him before she walked away, but he didn’t hear it. As she left him standing there, soaked head to toe in her wake, Rafe held on to what little amount of comfort she left him with. But that faded too and the hollow feeling returned.

He cursed to himself, pounding a fist against the railing. He stayed there, head hanging, feeling the chill in his bones return. Everything swirled around him until he heard nothing, saw nothing. With his eyes shut, Rafe could still feel the ghost of Elma’s lips against his, an ache in his chest.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, shutting the world out, but when he opened his eyes, bile rose in his throat.

Elma stood out on his lawn, a good distance from the house. There was someone out there with her, a boy. Rafe’s first instinct was to run over, make sure she was okay. But then he realized who it was.

“Maybank,” he growled to himself, his hands curling into fists. Elma had kissed him to get back at JJ for something he had done. That’s all it was. Revenge. He was just her revenge.

She had hers. And now he was going to get his.

Pulling out his phone, Rafe turned on the flash and snapped a few pictures as JJ leaned down and kissed Elma. His Elma. Rafe started to shake, knowing that it should be him kissing her. But there was a smile on her face.

Let her have her moment, her fun. Rafe would make sure that it didn’t last.

And he knew just how to ruin it all.

***

A few hours later, his house was empty. Topper and Kelce carried Sarah to her room while Rafe hid away in his.

Hands trembling, Rafe paced back and forth. The lights were out, shrouding him in the same darkness that he felt in his soul. He wanted to make Elma suffer for the feeling that he had brewing inside him. He wanted to make her suffer for using him to her own advantage.

But more than that, he wanted her to be here. He wanted her to put her arms around him and tell him that everything would be okay. He wanted her to kiss him again, to run her fingers through his hair. He wanted her nails to dig into his back while he kissed her into oblivion. He wanted her against the wall, on his bed, anywhere he could have her.

She was out there with him. With the boy that Rafe hated. JJ was kissing her, he was holding her, he had his hands on her waist, her thighs, her heart, her soul. Every time Rafe closed his eyes, he could see them, somewhere dark, somewhere secluded, somewhere warm. She would kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck, leaving behind the barest tint of her lip gloss. Her nails would leave behind their marks on his chest, her love staining his skin.

It made Rafe sick to his stomach thinking about all the things that JJ got to do to her that he never could. But he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

From the silence of his room, Rafe thought he could hear her gasp, hear the hitch in her breath, hear her quiet sounds of desire. He knew that he couldn’t really hear it, but maybe, if he listened close enough, he could just pretend.

And maybe he could pretend that it was him out there with her. Pretend that his hands were on her, his skin against hers. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, it would become a reality.

His heart ached for her, his body yearned for her. He wanted her, storm and fire and all.

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