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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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earned it [04]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly, “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

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hxseok-honee · 3 years ago

Text

sundress || part 9

written portion under the cut!

sundress [part 9] || "I like it."

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : [when you’re close to me, i can’t breathe // we’re already six feet deep] fuck up the friendship x leah kate

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @thetrueghostqueen @reddeathraven @dingzerenistall @skyrro @unadulteratedlyunique @ramyagovindraj @itismochirice @wwhseokjin @drpepperobsessed @monamone @thekookiecorner @army-moa75 @burningupp-replies @lele-bb @pb-n-juju @red-kebab @heonsbebe @peachyyoongs @superloverpielamp @marifujioka @butterflylion @heyitsgigi @lochness-butmakeitsexy @miki-chi @cahowlkook @worshiphoseok @lilacdreams-00 @bongsbeforebibles @miriamxsworld @oasiswithmyg @peonyplace @annewrighthglc @calling-dips-on-j-hope @yoongiofmine @loveyoongles @instantspot @missmadwoman @x-xjaeminx-x @luvtaeha @vanillxangxl @renhold-nightspear @taeshuworld @lvrseok @supahumbreon @a-noona-mous

_______________________________

Monday, 20 September, 10:01am

“I sit through that class every morning, and I don’t think there’s a single thing I remember about it.” Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair as he exits the Charms classroom, free hand attached to Y/n’s hip. They hover in the doorway, waiting for Jin and Tae to join them, and then the four of them are headed down the corridor to their next class. Yoongi can feel his roommate’s eyes on him and Y/n, and when he glances over his shoulder, he finds that both Jin and Tae are looking with intrigue at the arm he’s got wrapped around Y/n.

“What?” They look up, Y/n glancing back to see what’s happening. Jin clears his throat, shaking his head, and Tae just smiles, a toothy grin that’s more than a little sheepish.

“It’s just… a bit weird, still -- seeing you two together. We’re getting used to it.” Jin nods before pointing between the two of them, eyes guarded.

“As long as I don’t have to accidentally walk in on you two getting freaky in the room, I don’t care what you do. But…” He trails off, glancing down at Yoongi’s arm again, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “Yeah. Getting used to it.”

“You look good, though! You guys are a good match.” Tae gestures with both hands, the paperback book in his hold flapping obnoxiously as he tries to make sure he and Jin aren’t being misunderstood. “It’s cute -- we all like it. You know, except Jungkook.” Yoongi snorts, shaking his head.

“I really couldn’t care less what he thinks about it.” A lie, of course -- otherwise Yoongi wouldn’t be doing this at all. He wants to make Jeon Jungkook pay, just as Y/n does, but their friends don’t need to know that.

They reach an intersection then, Tae and Jin branching off to the right. They glance back when Yoongi doesn’t follow, and he points simply down the corridor on their left.

“I’m gonna walk Y/n to her next class -- see you guys at lunch?” Y/n looks at him, surprised he’s not heading to his own class. She waits until their friends are waving goodbye before she’s saying anything.

“You’re gonna be late…” Yoongi shrugs, guiding her down the left-hand corridor toward her Transfiguration classroom, his arm tight around her waist.

“So, I’ll run.” Y/n rolls her eyes with a scoff, but lets him walk her to class, anyway. She pretends she can’t see everyone in the corridor looking at them, just as they had been all morning. After all, once news had broken that Min Yoongi was no longer available, people couldn’t help but be curious. But Yoongi hasn’t said a thing about it, so she won’t either -- even if it is a little nerve-wracking.

When they get to her class, the very last one at the end of the corridor, Y/n turns to him, eyes suspicious.

“You better not use this as an excuse to skip your own class and go back to bed. You still have enough time to make it there.” Yoongi grins, shaking his head.

“You know me too well.” With a smile, she steps in and presses her lips to his in a quick peck. She would have tried to stay longer, but she can still feel everyone looking at them, and she’d panicked just a little bit. That’s a lot of eyes on them at once, and she figures a chaste kiss is acceptable enough that she can run into the safety of her classroom afterward without seeming like she’s avoiding his affection.

But as she’s turning to leave, a soft ‘see you later’ leaving her, she feels a hand on her elbow, pulling her back. Yoongi’s giving her a knowing look, tugging her close to him with an amused smile. When she’s close enough, he’s mumbling to her, fully aware of what’s been bothering her.

“You can do better than that.” Nervously, she’s glancing over his shoulder, but he’s tutting quietly, drawing her back. “Don’t look at them -- look at me.” She looks at him for just a moment, trying to build the courage to kiss him properly. It comes to her, and she’s stepping right up to him, hand on the side of his neck when she leans in.

Yoongi’s grip on her waist tightens when her lips find his, and he’s pressing forward right away, making sure to keep her focus on him. His free hand comes up and his fingers are threading through her hair, holding her still while he angles his head, molding his lips to hers more comfortably.

She pulls away first, ears tinting red almost immediately because she can tell everyone had seen that -- that they’re already whispering about them. But Yoongi makes it deceptively difficult for her to get carried away by the attention, tilting his head to block her view of the corridor with a playful smile.

“Good girl.” He’d meant it innocently -- she knows he’d meant it innocently. He’d only been praising her for not letting the embarrassment get to her, for doing it right that time. But he doesn’t know how those words affect her -- or… rather, he didn’t.

Because he catches it. He’s close enough, and his eyes are on her. There’s no way he’d miss the way her eyes had widened, even though she’s quick to mask it, or the purse of her lips -- the catch of her breath, almost imperceptible.

And then he’s narrowing his eyes at her, gaze flitting around her face, trying to pinpoint what had just happened. He puts it together easily, the side of his mouth tilting up as he gives her a knowing look. He wants her to say it, so he’s certain -- so this is something that can be shared between them, not something she’s too embarrassed to tell him.

“What was that?” Y/n blinks, shaking her head as she takes a step back, putting distance between them. He only steps forward to close the gap again. “No… something definitely just happened to you.” She shakes her head again, pointing over her shoulder into her class.

“Nope. That was nothing--I mean. Nothing happened, there was nothing.” She backs away further, jumping when she bumps into the corner of the wall. Yoongi only tilts his head with a squint, a full smirk on his features now.

“You know I’m not gonna let this go, right?”

“Go to class, Yoongi!” And then she’s gone, all but running into her classroom in a panic. Yoongi snickers, shaking his head as he turns and heads down the corridor, pocketing that interesting bit of information for later.

Monday, 20 September, 4:15pm

Y/n’s in the library, eyes scanning the shelf in front of her as she searches for the book title Hoseok had sent her. It’s something that has a chapter on the Wiggentree, which is what they’d chosen their project topic as for Herbology.

I’m definitely in the right aisle… Maybe I’m just missing it?

She moves to return to her starting place in the otherwise empty aisle, convinced she’ll find it if she just looks again. But she doesn’t make it far, a hand coming down on the shelf and blocking her. She’d been too focused on scanning the books to even notice that he’d arrived. But she certainly notices him now.

“So -- you like ‘good girl’?” Turning as the words are whispered into her ear, Y/n all but stumbles backward into the bookshelf, eyes wide as she finds Yoongi peering back at her. He’s squinting at her, just as he had this morning, as he searches her face for a reaction. Blinking rapidly, she glances down the aisle, worried someone might find them like this.

“Yoongi, what -- you can’t just sneak up on me like that!” Her voice is hushed, because she’s aware this is a library and even more aware that it’s full to the brim, having seen almost every seat taken when she’d walked through the room. The chances of them not getting caught are slim to none.

But Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, only stepping in and further blocking her way out. She scoots back as much as possible, but there’s only so far she can go with her back pressed against a wall of books.

“No one forced you to tell me that you were here.” Y/n sighs, because she should have seen this coming. He’d been totally fine all day, holding her hand at lunch and walking her to class after, never saying a word about what had happened this morning. Even during their free period, they’d just taken a nap in his bed -- everything had been normal.

So when he’d texted her asking where she was, she hadn’t thought twice to tell him about the book she’s been looking for. She should have known he’d bring it up again -- he’d even said he would. But she hadn’t expected it to be here, in such a public place.

Maybe I should have. This is Yoongi.

When she doesn’t say anything, Yoongi leans in, setting his lips against the shell of her ear.

“What else do you like to be called, hm?” Flushing red, Y/n plants her hand on his chest, intending to push him away. But he’s already pulling back, just enough that their noses are brushing while he looks into her eyes. She hates that he’s smirking, because he knows she’s flustered.

“You know you should just tell me -- I’ll figure it out for myself eventually.” He’s fully aware she won’t say a word, already seeing that her jaw is clenching, mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m not telling you shit.” He raises an eyebrow, thoroughly amused by her disgruntled expression.

“No? That’s okay. I’ll just get it out of you later, pretty girl.” Y/n blinks rapidly when her heart jumps and grimaces, because he’s testing her right here in the middle of this library. And she knows when he smiles that she’s failed.

“Got you.” Y/n rolls her eyes, cheeks warm from how embarrassed she feels, and moves to push past him so she can leave -- she’ll just find the book later. But Yoongi’s in her way, a playful smile on his face. “You still haven’t told me if you like ‘good girl’.” She shoots him a wild look.

“You know the answer to that.” And then she’s looking away, because his eyes are lighting up and she’s not sure how she’s supposed to feel about that -- mostly, she’s not sure why it doesn’t bother her that he’s excited about this. “Can I go?” He smiles, humming in faux contemplation.

“Nope. I wanna hear it from your mouth.” She turns to him, exasperated, because he’s being obnoxious and he knows it. But he doesn’t let up, only pressing forward until she’s backed against the shelf again. “Come on… it’s just a couple words -- say them and I’ll let you go back to your project.”

When she only glares at him, he hums again, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Okay, then.” And then he’s leaning forward, slotting his lips against hers roughly, muffling the noise of surprise that leaves her. She pushes him back just enough that their lips part, eyeing him with shock.

“What are you doing? We’re alone--”

“Are we?” She blinks, knowing what he means -- that there are eyes everywhere, that what they’re doing is okay because they are in public, even if the aisle’s empty. Because this is exactly what it's like to date Min Yoongi, so it's okay. Everything they're doing and saying right now -- this is how it's supposed to look to anyone that comes across them.

He looks her over, checking that she’s alright -- that she’s not upset.

“… Can I go back to being the sexy boyfriend that corners you in the library to convince you with my mouth to tell me what I want to hear? Or do you want to stop? Because I’ll stop.” Y/n snorts, shaking her head. He’s careful as always, but if she’s honest -- she doesn’t really mind this all that much. She’d agreed to it, after all. So instead of telling him that this is fine -- that they’re fine -- she continues the previous conversation.

“You’re not gonna convince me to say it, no matter what you do.” He looks at her sideways, smirking, and she immediately regrets having worded it like that because she can already see Yoongi’s competitive side making an appearance.

“Is that a challenge?” When she only rolls her eyes, he leans in, stopping just shy of her mouth and waiting, just in case she doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t move, gaze only flicking down quickly to his lips and back again. He tries his best to mask the smile that threatens to form on his face, but even as he closes the gap, it’s there.

He kisses her once, then leans back to talk to her.

“Say it.” She smiles, eyes full of mischief.

“Say what?” He kisses her again.

“Say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Again.

“I could do this all day, Y/n.”

“No, you can’t. You hate missing dinner -- you like the dessert too much.” He sighs impatiently, setting his hands on her hips and pulling her in. The kiss he lays on her lips is different than the last few, this one made to leave her breathless. She hates that it does.

Without pulling away, he gauges her reaction, noticing immediately that she’s grabbing at the front of his uniform, almost as if to ground herself after something so unexpected. He doesn’t give her time to recover, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth. When she inhales sharply, he pushes his tongue past her lips, licking into her mouth -- she whines, the sound immediately cutting off because she’s realizing that they’re still in the library.

Yoongi only smirks, finding it cute that she’s so aware of her surroundings. But he wants her completely out of it, thinking either about him or nothing at all. So he brings one hand up to the back of her head, where he’s taking a fistful of her hair and tugging harshly, forcing her mouth away from his as her head gets angled to the side. That whine comes again, but she’s definitely already more dazed than before, because she doesn’t stop it from happening. Her head is spinning too fast, the feeling turning to pure white noise when Yoongi attaches his mouth to a spot under her ear, his lips searing hot against her skin.

“Yoongi…” She breathes out his name, clinging to him like she’s going to fall over if she doesn’t. Yoongi tells himself that that’s why he presses himself flush to her, sliding his free hand down to her ass and pushing her hips forward into his -- because he wants to help steady her. It has nothing to do with hearing her call for him like that. Nothing at all to do with the reaction it draws out of her when he does, that breathy moan he’d secretly been looking for. Pulling his lips from her neck, he drags them up to her ear, not even noticing how hard he’s breathing.

“Now do you wanna tell me?” She doesn’t respond, whining incoherently. Yoongi sees out of the corner his eye that someone’s turning into the aisle. When they stop short and immediately turn to leave, he’s smiling, because they’d just gotten caught and Y/n has no idea. She’s too busy trying to catch her breath -- trying to come to her senses. Yoongi’s having none of it.

Using the hold he has on her hair, he brings her toward him, smushing his lips to hers -- it’s not as rough as she’d been expecting, but it takes her breath away all the same. Just like the first one. She whimpers against his lips, and it warms him -- the idea that even this is enough to make her feel good. He wonders if she actually prefers when he’s soft with her -- he’ll have to explore that more later.

Pulling his lips away from her, he watches her. The way she doesn’t open her eyes right away or even notice that he’s waiting for her. She just leans her head back against the hand in her hair, and Yoongi steadies her, smiling at how dazed she is. He shakes that hand gently, jostling her, and that’s when she’s opening her eyes, realizing he hasn’t done anything in a few seconds. They make eye contact, Y/n trying to blink her way out of the fog in her head.

“Don’t you want this to end already? Wouldn’t you rather go back to finding your book before we have to go to dinner?” She nods automatically, even though there’s a small part of her that hesitates first -- it must be because she’s too out of it to process his questions right away. When she doesn’t meet Yoongi’s eyes for a few seconds, he’s pulling at her hair again, drawing her attention. And when her gaze finally lifts to his--

“Then be a good girl and tell me you like it.” Yoongi watches as she reacts -- as she breaks. As her lips part in a small gasp, her eyelids fluttering as she looks at him. As the hold she has on the front of his shirt tightens, her knuckles almost white. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this side of her -- the first time he’s ever seen her give in like this. He almost feels bad for how proud he is that she’s like this because of him.

But then she’s saying it -- what he’s wanted to hear from her all day. She doesn’t say all of it, but she doesn’t need to. Just those three words are enough to make him smile, because submission looks shockingly good on a stubborn lion like her. His Y/n.

“I like it.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts texts #bts hogwarts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi texts

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years ago

Text

But professor... - c.1

Summary: Penny Townsend is going to attend her first criminology class. What she didn’t expect was professor Walter Marshall.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

A/N: I hope you enjoy this Professor!AU -- can you imagine? Walter Marshall as a professor? 🤤

Masterlist // But professor... masterlist // Next chapter

✎ ✎ ✎

My parents hoped that I would become a doctor. I get it—being friends with a lot of successful parents with equally successful children, must’ve raised their standard for me. They however must’ve known that medicine wasn’t it for me and going to law school isn’t my forte either. It must’ve been hard on them, knowing I wasn’t that intellectually gifted, though they tried their best for me to be.

They did a lot for me. At the ripe age of two to five hours, I was placed at the entrance of a church in Maryland. The pastor and his wife discovered me and brought me to the hospital, only to found out I wasn’t just a couple weeks premature, but also had a lot of heroin in my system.

My birth parents barely gave me a chance the second I was born (probably when I was conceived, but okay) and that is why I am so grateful that my adoptive parents care so much about me.

And that’s why I want to make them proud and studying psychology is my best chance at being the successful daughter they deserve, but man does it feel wrong to be here. I know there is another student out there who deserves to be here, who actually wants to do this, yet here I am taking their place.

Psychology wasn’t the greatest choice already, but having to take criminology was an even bigger mistake. I walk into the lecture hall for the first criminology class. My hands shake because of the nerves, they’re even clammy. I’m not good at making friends, so seeing those cliques that has formed after only two weeks of university, makes me slightly jealous and really alone.

I never really fitted in. My teachers would describe me as a sweet young girl, who is painfully shy.

That, of course, is if they even noticed me at all.

It can be hard to fit in, especially when you feel out of place the second you enter a room, like I have felt since I can remember.

‘Take a seat,’ I hear a deep voice say and I look up, to meet the eyes of the professor. He is unlike all of my other professors. He isn’t in a suit or at least some decent slacks. His denim jeans hugs his thick thighs, as he wears a sweater on top. His curls are disheveled and slightly frizzy and his beard is asymmetrical. A deep frown in between his brows.

‘Me?’ I ask in a soft tone.

He nods. ‘You,’ he confirms.

I walk passed him to choose a seat in the back. I take place and look around me, only to meet the eyes of the professor again. While I wonder what made him choose teaching, since he doesn’t look like someone who was born to teach, I also ponder about the fact he is looking at me again.

Why would he do that?

I grab my laptop and open it, opening a new document. I’ve been going to NYU for two weeks now, yet this is my first criminology class. I run my fingers through my hair, pushing up the glasses on my nose bridge.

‘Okay everyone,’ I hear the professor say, when it’s time for the class to start. ‘There is a sheet going around. Find the spot you’re sitting now and write down your name. If I find out you are messing with me, you have failed your class immediately.’

He is not beating around the bush.

‘I’m detective Walter Marshall. I have worked for the MPD, the Minneapolis Police Department. For this semester there are three subjects we’ll cover. Victimology, crime analysis and the psychology of criminal behavior.’

This is not at all what I want to learn. This is too gore for me. I should’ve stood up to my parents and go to cosmetology school like I originally wanted. It’s better for me anyways.

I’m so stupid.

The paper ends up on my table and I try to find my place on it. I write down ‘Penelope Townsend’ and slide it to the person two tables over. Professor Marshall explains how we have a weekly lecture of two hours and how he is available for questions every Friday, since he’ll be in his office.

‘Does anyone have any questions?’

A guy raises his hand. ‘Why aren’t you working for the MPD anymore, sir?’

Professor Marshall sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. ‘I was put on leave.’

‘Why?’

‘There were some issues,’ he says. ‘Between me and suspects.’

I have no idea what he is implying, but the silence in the classroom is so thick, that I have a clue what types of issues came with said suspects.

‘Really?’ the guy asks.

The professor only raises his eyebrows, which obviously means he isn’t joking. You don’t need to have studied Psychology to figure that out. ‘Any more questions?

‘Do we work in pairs for the assignment?’ a girl asks.

He shakes his head. ‘No, individual works only.’

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank the stars, I don’t want to work with others. Really, I don’t.

‘Okay, if that’s all, let me start right away. What do these women have in common?’ He presses a button on his presenter and the screen behind him changes. Three pictures of women appear on the screen. It’s their driver’s license photo.

‘They’re women,’ a guy says, causing a few to laugh.

Professor Marshall grabs the paper with names and says: ‘Does anyone have something less obvious to comment than mister Fitzgerald?’ He seems not amused at all by the words of Fitzgerald.

‘Brown hair, blue eyes,’ a girl says.

He nods. ‘And?’

‘They’re pretty,’ another girl says.

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ he notes. His eyes scan the paper and he looks up. ‘Miss Townsend, do you have something to add?’

Our eyes meet again and I realize that I’m the only miss Townsend in the class. I clear my throat and look at the pictures. Say something smart, Penny. Say something intelligent. Really intelligent.

The obvious things have already been said, so I should stay away from those things.

I swallow hard, press my glasses better on my nose and say: ‘Their left eyelid is slightly droopy.’

I hear some people chuckle a bit, making me feel everything but intelligent.

‘Quiet,’ professor Marshall says and the chuckles die down instantly. ‘Their droopy left eyelid is what made them appealing to the killer.’ He looks up from the other side of class, right at me. His slightly annoyed gaze dissolves for a few moments into a soft one. ‘Miss Townsend made an excellent point here. It took an entire police department to come to that conclusion over the course of two months.’

Oh my goodness, I made an excellent point.

The slides change and I see another picture. This time it’s of a man. It’s a mugshot. I bet he is the killer.

‘Miss Townsend, since you are on a roll,’ the professor continues and I nearly groan. Really? He wants me to answer another questions? ‘What’s do you notice about this man?’

I scan his entire face. He has a crooked nose, blemishes on his forehead and thin lips. He looks like a killer. This would be the type of man I would avoid if I came across him.

‘His left eyelid is also droopy,’ I say.

Is that a tiny smirk on his lips? ‘Correct.’ While professor Marshall continues to explain about how his own appearance is unknowingly influencing his choice of victims, I can’t help but beam a little with pride. ‘Because,’ he continues, ‘if you understand your victims, you can understand your killer.’ The slideshow changes to one word. ‘Welcome to victimology.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Time spend in a lecture hall while professor Marshall teaches flies by. Though he is a bit grumpy and not very welcoming, he is interesting and smart. Much better than my other teachers. I put everything in my backpack, before I get up from my seat. I’m one of the last students to leave the place, mostly because I don’t want to be swarmed by the cliques.

‘Miss Townsend,’ professor Marshall says, causing me to stop misstep as I already passed him.

I turn around. ‘Yes?’ I ask.

He doesn’t look up from his notes. ‘You did well in class today.’

Is this man giving me a compliment? He might be the first one in a teacher like position to ever notice me, let alone give me a compliment. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, now looking up from his notes. ‘Don’t hesitate to say something in class next time. You have great insight.’

‘Or just luck,’ I say.

Professor Marshall shakes his head. ‘No, this isn’t about luck, this is good insight. So, can you promise me to raise your hand next class?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘What I said: this was luck and it probably won’t happen again. I have to go. I reserved a spot at the library. If that is all, sir?’

He doesn’t say anything, simply looks at me. It takes a second, maybe two before he nods. ‘If you have questions,’ he says, ‘you know how to contact me.’

I nod, before I walk out of the hall. I see students gathering in front of the door and I quickly slip through them and make my way to the library. I’ve been going to classes for around two weeks now and I’m still up to date as we speak. I decide to at least make a beginning with the assignments of my criminology class, because the sooner I start, the less work and stress I’ll experience later on, because I most definitely will stress about it.

It’s been quite awhile since I opened a book for school for assignments or preparing for exams. After high school, I decided to take a gap year, which ended in two. I’ve traveled with all sorts of groups to different countries, worked at an international cafe in Japan for awhile. It did help me with my social skills. I was happy, social and totally in my element. Those wonderful skills were all forgotten the second I stepped foot back in the USA again.

It was my parents that pushed for going back to college and once they figured out that medicine or law wasn’t up my alley, they agreed psychology, though it wasn’t my thing either.

It’s okay, sure, but… Gosh, I miss the freedom I had during the gap years. I’m not stupid, but is the academical life for me? I have looked at cosmetology school and boy do I wish I was there at the moment.

And not here.

✎ ✎ ✎

I don’t know how long I have been at the library, but my eyes are tired by the time I close my laptop. Besides working on my assignment, I also texted my parents to tell them everything is going fine and checked out multiple cosmetology schools here in the area.

Originally I’m from Maryland, meaning it’s only a three hour drive to see my parents and for them to check in on me. I considered lying about my major, about attending NYU and just go to cosmetology school, but mom and dad are paying my tuition, which is another loophole in my plan.

I put the laptop in my backpack and walk out of the library. Every second my mind wasn’t occupied with university related things, it went straight back to my first criminology class, more specifically my professor. His words. It’s one thing he said those things to me, but another that he looked so handsome while saying it.

‘There she is,’ I hear from behind me as I walk through the hallways to the exit. I turn around to discover it’s Fitzgerald. I forgot his first name, which is weird since we share a lot of the same classes together. He isn’t easy to miss. Pleasant on the eyes, that’s for sure, but he is loud, thinks he is hilarious and that makes him kinda annoying. ‘Miss Townsend,’ he says in a mocking tone.

Okay, change kinda annoying to absolutely insufferable.

‘Hm?’

Fitzgerald walks next to me and he comes a lot closer than I prefer. ‘You’re already the teacher’s pet,’ he continues. ‘Bet the man has a thing for Asian chicks.’

I have no idea how to respond to that implication. My instinct says to get out of here, but the exit is right ahead of me and from the looks of it, Fitzgerald is going there as well. So there is no escape.

‘But let’s say it’s beginners luck,’ he says, ‘because it was actually the first time I heard you speak.’

‘You mind leaving me alone?’ I ask.

‘Why is that, sugar boo?’

Okay, now I’m gonna vomit. Goosebumps run over my spine and the hairs in my neck are standing straight up. I bet this guy’s dad is rich, therefore the only reason he is here. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘You don’t want me here?’ He starts to chuckle. ‘Sweetheart, everyone wants me here.’

Not me.

‘Fitzgerald, are you deaf?’

It’s professor Marshall.

His eyes enlarge when he realizes that too. ‘No, sir,’ he quickly says.

‘She said she doesn’t want you here.’ He stands in front of the two of us, looking everything but amused. ‘You know, back when I was working, I encountered a lot of guys like you. Did you know they usually peak in high school, do okay in college, but the second they end up locked up in jail—and I promise you, they most often will—they aren’t so tough anymore. They usually end up as someone’s bitch.’

To hear this entire monologue and the word bitch from a professor, was not at all what I was expecting. Fitzgerald’s face is drained from all its color. While Fitzgerald looks like he shat himself, I am utterly amazed. I wish I was this intimidating, I think to myself.

Fitzgerald clears his throat, eyes darting around the hallway, almost as if he is trying to find the closest exit. He shoots out of this place very quickly, meaning I’m left with only our professor.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I say.

Professor Marshall simply nods. ‘You know, if you lowered your shoulders, you’d appear more confident.’

Why do I feel so offended? ‘Oh…’

‘It’s advice, miss Townsend, not criticism.’

‘Oh,’ I say again, this time in a whisper like tone. He could’ve brought it up a bit nicer though. No need to hurt my feelings like that.

Professor Marshall and I both walk towards the exit and I notice it’s raining. Great, guess who didn’t bring her umbrella and also isn’t wearing a jacket with a hood?

Absolutely fantastic.

‘Here,’ the professor says, holding out his umbrella for me.

Is this truly happening? ‘Oh, sir, that’s not necessary.’

‘I insist.’

With some hesitation I grab the umbrella from him and smile. ‘Thank you, professor.’

He politely nods and walks off, leaving me with the umbrella and a little bit confused. Though he looks so handsome and slightly intimidating, he still is nice to me. The only teacher ever. Maybe Fitzgerald is right and—

No, no, no, don’t think like that. It’s not that every man who is nice to me all of the sudden has this fetish. That can’t be it, right?

Maybe, despite my aversion, I am actually good at the whole criminology thing and isn’t it a one time thing. Luck. Maybe I do have something I am good at.

✎ ✎ ✎

That Friday I am still on campus after I spend my entire afternoon in the library. Since I have a question about the criminology assignment, I decide walk to the office of professor Marshall. To kill two birds with one stone, I brought his umbrella with me so I can give it back. I knock on the door and hear a low: ‘Come in.’

I open the door and am met with the professor, who is sitting behind is desk. ‘Sir, I have a question about the assignment.’

He leans back in his chair and gestures me to come in. I close the door behind me and expect to sit, until I notice there isn’t a chair anywhere for me to sit on. How unwelcome of him, I think to myself. Does that mean I have to remain standing?

‘What’s your question, miss Townsend?’

‘I didn’t know which format I had to use for the entire assignment. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was here in the building and I thought that I could…’ Nice way of getting off track, Penny. As they said in high school musical: ‘Get’cha your head in the game’ and this is not the game. ‘Never mind. Which format should I use?’

‘That’s up to you,’ he says.

That’s it? That’s the answer he is gonna give me?

‘Right,’ I mumble.

‘Other questions, miss Townsend?’

Yes. I let out a deep sigh. ‘The assignment is just harder than I thought,’ I admit. ‘I don’t really understand it.’

Professor Marshall stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Sit, I’ll try to explain it.’

‘In your chair?’

He simply nods and I walk around the desk, to take a seat, while he leans against the windowsill. Oh, the leather is warm… What a body heat does this man produce. ‘Okay, the point of the assignment is to use some of the example files of—staged—murders. Based on the file you choose, you choose a format. You write out the victimology, try to narrate who the killer is, writing down all your findings and there are things I’m gonna talk about in next classes.’

I nod. ‘That makes it easier, thank you, sir.’

‘You’re already working on the assignment?’ he asks. Why does he sound genuinely surprised?

I nod again. ‘I am. I find it easier to work a bit every day, than to cram it all in one day.’ I realize how that sounds. ‘That sounds dorky.’

‘It doesn’t really. It’s a whole lot better than what I did back in the days,’ he says. ‘What did you think of the class?’

Is he asking for my opinion? ‘Your class was very interesting. Slightly morbid though, but fascinating.’

‘Morbid?’ the professor asks. ‘There was nothing morbid about my class.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘It was kinda scary. With the blood patterns and all. The peek into the murderer’s mind?’ I shiver. ‘Don’t know, felt too personal and too much into the killer’s brain.’

‘The class you’re taking is criminology,’ he says, ‘you should’ve known.’

I shrug, not knowing what to say to him. He is right…

‘Miss Townsend—’

‘Penny,’ I say. ‘It’s Penny. Penelope officially, but people barely call me that.’ People barely call out for me ever, but that’s a different topic. Total different topic.

‘Penny,’ he says, ‘could’ve known.’

I don’t know what he is implying, but I realize I am totally overstaying. ‘I’m sorry, I should go. Thanks for helping me out. Oh, I brought you back your umbrella. I don’t need it anyways.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘Okay.’

‘I should go. It’s getting kinda dark already.’

‘Let me guess, you don’t do well in the dark.’

I smile almost out of guilt. ‘That obvious?’

For a brief moment I spot a smirk on his face. ‘I’m a detective, I spot these things.’

Okay, not gonna lie, but that’s pretty funny. ‘See you next class, professor,’ I say, standing up from his chair and I walk towards the door.

‘See you next class, Penny.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #professor!walter marshall #but professor

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

Text

Looking for a Place to Happen 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, hand job, loss of virginity

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hopefully I can work on part 5 now that I have this posted.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 4: With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees

💀💀💀

Sam left you in the same daze that fogged the entire day. The night was restless as you tossed and turned, replaying the scene over and over. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the lens staring back at you, imagined yourself on a screen, your hand moving between your legs, your pathetic mewls as you came for this man and who knew how many others.

Well, he did say it was up to you how big the audience was.

You woke early and only checked in with your nan to fill a mug with coffee and start your day ahead of time. You needed to keep yourself busy after a night bombarded by your own thoughts and yet, you couldn’t focus enough to do more than stare at the blinking cursor.

You put on a Twitch stream to keep your mind from wandering too far but it did little to help your focus. You fidgeted, still without your phone, and again thought of the previous day and what you’d done. You’d never done that in front of anyone. You only ever joked about it online, that persona was everything you weren’t irl.

All your stupid online jokes and exaggerations got you into this. You fucked up because the line between virtual and reality was too blurred in your head. You got carried away and now you just had to deal. Well, you guessed it was a lesson no one learned the easy way.

You didn’t realise how much time passed until your stomach growled loudly and squeezed. You felt like throwing up but only had the slice of toast you scarfed down that morning to coat your stomach. You rubbed your eyes and headed downstairs to sneak some of your nan’s sugarless jelly cookies. She hated your snacking but she rarely finished a box on her own.

As you entered through the kitchen, you came to a sudden halt. You tilted your head and frowned as you heard your nan’s voice and the one that answered had you knocking your hip against a chair as you rushed into the living room.

“Just over there,” she directed as the leg of the couch scraped on the floor, “slide it against the wall.”

Sam stood straight dusted off his hands on his jeans. He stepped back and looked over the old floral sofa.

“Definitely looks better over here,” he remarked.

“What the hell?” you blurted out.

“There you are!” your grandmother tutted, “I called up to you but you do what you always do and tune me out.”

“I didn’t-- I was working, I--” you cleared your throat and looked at Sam, “what are you doing here?”

“He’s being very helpful,” your nan praised, “how many times did I ask you to help me with this thing?”

“Sorry, I…” you swallowed and glanced between them.

“And smell that,” your nan inhaled deeply, “he’s making us dinner.”

“And I brought sugar-free dessert,” he added, “anything else I can do?”

“You’re so sweet,” she squeezed his thick arm.

“So are you… once you get past the frying pan,” he chuckled.

“I see a man in leather, I’m swinging,” she scowled, “you’re lucky you came bearing gifts.”

“Hey, look, we’re not all bad,” he smiled as she sat and he handed her the book from the small table that held the lamp and her ashtray, “I’m not like those guys who threatened your granddaughter.”

“And more honest than her,” she shook her head, “you didn’t tell me you were down at that bar. I warned you-- you really are lucky he was there.”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you squinted at them, “didn’t you just tell me the other day I should grab any biker by--”

“I’m old, I say things,” she laughed but her eyes had a glimmer of ‘be quiet’.

“Would you like some more tea, Millie?” he asked as he took her empty mug and neared you, stopping in the broad archway that opened up into the living room.

“One more, if you don’t mind,” she smiled sweetly. She never smiled.

You hid a scowl and turned to follow Sam into the kitchen. He moved the kettle onto a burner and turned the knob. He stopped and opened the door of the stove and peeked inside as a blaze of savoury hot air blasted out at him. You felt it just before he let it snap shut and turned to lean on the counter, crossing one foot over the other.

“What are you doing?” you uttered.

“I told you I’d be back,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d--” you lowered your voice and glanced at the doorway, “what have you been telling her?”

“Everything she wants to hear,” he ran his fingertips along the precise line of hair of his goatee, “and nothing she shouldn’t… but that can change.”

“I did what you wanted. End of punishment,” you put your hands on your hips.

“End? Hmmm, I don’t think I said that,” his forehead wrinkled, “we’re far from finished… and come on, we both know you had as much fun as me.”

Your nostrils flared and you sucked in your cheeks. He was entirely too hard to figure out. He was that sort of man you hated and feared all at once. You just couldn’t predict him.

“I don’t… I don’t care what happens to me, just don’t hurt her,” you said quietly.

“Hurt her? Now why would I do that?” he taunted, “I mean, right now I have no reason to do anything like that.”

You squirmed and let out a breath, “please, alright?”

“Settle down, honey, you’ve been good… so far,” he said, “you just gotta keep it up.”

“Yeah,” you grumbled as the kettle began to shake and he turned his back to you, “any chance I can have my phone back?”

He chuckled as he searched the cupboard for the tea and plucked out a bag, “you’re funny… I like that but you gotta stop acting like everything’s a joke. It doesn’t hold up.”

💀

You found it hard not to wear a look of unamused confusion as Sam served dinner at the table and your grandmother sang his praises as he poured her wine she could actually drink. Just one glass but it was enough to loosen her up. You hadn’t eaten in the dining room since you were a kid, more used to eating at the counter, sitting on the wobbly stools or in front of the television.

Sam offered for you to clean up and do the dishes. Your nan was overjoyed at that, almost mocking. When you finished, you found them in the living room, some old Robert DeNiro movie on the television. You sat on the couch, as far from Sam as you as your grandmother yawned into her hand.

“Well,” she stubbed out her cigarette, “I should really be getting to bed. That wine is kicking in.”

“It’s early…” you argued weakly.

“You kids don’t get into too much trouble,” she warned as she stood with a groan and gripped her hip, “these ears still work.”

“Trouble? Me?” Sam kidded, “you don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t been a kid in a very long time.”

She smiled and nodded but for a moment she hesitated. She looked at you and pushed her tongue to her denture.

“Good night, girlie,” she said.

“Night, nan,” you forced out as normally as you could.

You knew if she sensed your fear, she’d act out. She was always too brave for her own good and while you admired that, you didn’t need to get hurt because you were dumb as a brick.

She left slowly and you heard her television begin to crackle and the voices of the Law and Order actors were muffled behind her door. You hunched your shoulders and rubbed your hands together as you stared at Deniro’s wrinkled forehead and that characteristic squint.

The lamp went out as Sam pulled the cord and the screen glowed in the dark. You felt the cushion dip as he shifted closer without subtlety. He slung his arm over your shoulder and you smelled his earthy cologne as he turned the TV up a few ticks. He pulled you to him as his hand came up to cradle your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we go… somewhere else?”

“She won’t hear us honey,” he cooed, “you just gotta be good. Be quiet.”

“Let’s go upstairs. Please,” you grabbed his hand as you pleaded.

“You keep arguing and I’ll make sure to wake her up,” he warned, “now,” he twisted so that he had your wrist in his grasp and forced it down to his lap, “put your hand down my pants.”

You gulped loudly and your hand trembled. You read enough fanfic to know what to do but your lack of actual experience had you nervous. Much like many things in your life. All talk, no skill.

You turned awkwardly on the cushion, your body uncomfortably contorted as his legs stayed pressed to yours. You struggled to unhook the button of his fly and the zipper was slow to descend. You felt the bulge as your hands moved against the denim and you hesitated as your fingers pressed to the elastic of his briefs.

“Mmm,” he purred as he hugged you closer, “that’s it, honey.”

Your eyes widened and you were happy the room was dark enough to hide your face. You pulled the elastic back with two fingers and shoved your other hand blindly beneath the fabric. You brushed against his hard dick and angled your hand so that you could grip him, his smooth length felt peculiar against your palm. Was he big? He felt big but didn’t have anyone to compare him to.

“Tighter,” he groaned at the friction as you moved your hand.

You squeezed and his hot breath grazed over your hair and he pushed his head back over the couch. He twitched as you kept a steady motion, trapped in the limbo of mortification and cluelessness. Were you doing it right? What were you even doing?

“Ah, honey, you’re so good,” he said as he rubbed the back of your neck, “goddamn.”

You said nothing as you focused on your hand. He snaked his arm under yours suddenly and pulled you over as he lifted his ass. Your hand was caught in his under as he laid you down beneath him. He reached down and fixed your grip on him as he held hovered atop you, his knees pressed into the cushion between your legs.

His arm crossed under yours as he poked along your jeans and shoved his hand beneath the denim and cotton. His palm was flush to your pelvis as he slid two fingers along your folds, held snug to you by the fabric. He swirled his fingertips over your bud and you gasped as your other hand gripped his arm in surprise.

“Honey, you’re wet already,” he whispered, “you sure you haven’t been waiting for this?”

You moaned as he pushed back along your entrance and dragged his fingers back, spreading your wetness over your clit. You quivered as you struggled to keep your own hand moving. He inhaled and groaned as played with you and pressed his lips to your cheek. He trailed up to your lips and kissed you, forcing his tongue inside as he shuddered.

He drew away with a sloppy noise and withdrew his hand from your pants. He sat up on his knees and pulled your legs to rest against his torso. He gripped the back of your jeans and yanked them down along with your panties. You smothered your cry as you were shocked by the force of it and the air of the room on your bare ass and legs.

He let your jeans dangle from one ankle as he bent over you again. Your leg fell over the edge of the couch as he held himself over you with a hand just above your head, fingers tight on the cushioned arm. He wiggled as he shimmied his jeans and briefs down with his other hand and you pressed on his chest.

“Wait, wait,” you hissed, “you… please, just… slow down… I never--”

“Shh, honey, you’re making too much noise,” he muttered, “it’s okay.”

“No, no, please, can’t we--” your voice caught as he lined his tips up along your cunt and rubbed it along your clit, “I’ll… I’ll use my mouth.”

“Later,” he whispered as his tip slipped down along your entrance, “honey, I need to feel you.”

“Pl--” your voice evaporated as the head of his dick stretched you.

You whimpered as he brought his arm down and nestled it under your head. He pushed further in and you gritted your teeth as you whined at the pressure of his intrusion. With each inch, the strain grew worse as a deep pain flooded your body. He shushed you as he forced past your resistance.

He covered your mouth as you cried out and barely kept your voice under control. He kept your head on his arm as his other hand cupped your lips and smothered out your agony. He forced himself in as deep as he could and your body tensed as your walls squeezed him. Your eyes rolled back as tears welled and spilled over the corners.

“Honey, it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” he coaxed, “just like that.”

He rocked his hips carefully but it still felt terrible. He pulled back and slid back in, each time it felt like he got even deeper than the last. His breath hitched and your own grew laboured as you huffed through your nostrils.

He growled and sped up, just a little at a time, your cunt slickening his intrusion as his pelvis brushed against your clit and sent tendrils down your thighs. Even so, the pleasure was not enough to mute the pain.

“That’s it,” he uttered, “that’s it.”

He fucked you faster and the couch shook beneath you. His flesh slapped and the noise seemed to be monstrous, so much sure that you were sure your grandmother would come out and catch you.

You grasped his wrist as you felt your climax rising. You squeezed and arched your foot as you were overcome and crashed down harshly as the pain tore through the ecstasy once more. He turned his hand and framed your chin as he kissed you again, swallowing your murmurs as he thrust into you over and over.

He lifted his head and dipped his thumb into your mouth as he held in his voice. He quaked and his motion stuttered but kept on. You felt his release, hot and wet, inside of you, a strange sensation that made you both sickened and aroused you.

He eased up and stilled at last. He brushed his nose against yours and chuckled under his breath as he wiggled his hips and you swore at the way it made your walls squeeze him. You blinked as your vision cleared of tears and the darkness. His features were blue with the light of the television, sinister and shadowy.

You went limp under him and breathed out slowly. You shook as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip and left a line of spit down your jaw.

“We’ll have to get that on tape next time,” he said, “but I doubt you’ll forget that, honey.”

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earthfire-75 · 3 years ago

Text

You Send Me Flying

Chapter Seven:

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie as I don’t yet own the book. Warnings: language and smut)

We headed down stairs and piled into her car, her driving and myself in the passenger seat with the other guys in the back. My fingers were itching to reach out for her, but I fought off the urge. No reason to give those idiots any more fuel. When we pulled into the place, I prepared myself for their antics, because where of all places does she take us? A sex shop.

They’re whooping and laughing in the back seat when they realize it and even she giggles a bit. “Alright, get it all out now. I expect you to act like adults when we get in there. Got it?” She was trying to be stern, but her unsuccessfully-stifled giggles weren’t helping. It was infectious and I cracked a smile as well.

“Good luck with that,” I commented as I got out of the car.

We went inside and she got the clerk to help us with the boots while she looked out for a few other things to pull the costumes together. It went surprisingly smoothly and we met her at the checkout where she pays for it all. I let the other guys go ahead of me, but I pulled her off to the side.

“Have you been paying for all this?”

“Yeah. I mean, Nikki put me in charge of costuming.”

I must have looked as furious as I felt, because she was suddenly standing up straighter and placed her hands on my cheeks with concern on her face. “Mick, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been paying for everything out of your own pocket! I’m guessing without help?!”

“Wait…No. Mick, look at me. Nikki and I pooled some of our savings together. Tommy and Vince threw in some too and we opened a bank account for the band. We didn’t ask you, because you’re paying child support.”

My eyes shot to hers for a second before looking away again. I quietly replied, “They weren’t supposed to tell you about that.”

“Yeah, well they were supposed to tell you about the account. What are we going to do with our children, dad?”

Something stirred in me, hearing her call me that. It surprised me that I would react like that, but I pulled her flush against me, letting her feel how hard I was getting. “Screw the kids, say that again.”

“What? Dad?” She asks, sounding confused at first, but then her eyes lit up as the dots connected in her mind and she leaned her head a little to the side so her lips just grazed my ear. “Or would you prefer “Daddy?” She pulled back, looking up at me with innocent eyes and started to back away.

A low growl escaped me at the game she was playing and I managed to hook my fingers through her belt loops before she could turn around to escape. “Oh, no you don’t, Princess.” I tugged her back to me and she gasped when our hips met but there’s a loud honk from her car before I got the chance to kiss her. The trio of idiots were staring straight through the shop’s glass windows from outside at us.

“Get a room!” came their collective cheer.

“I’m gonna kill them.”

“No, you’re not.”

I grumbled under my breath and she shot me a look that told me it would be better for me if I didn’t. “Fine. I won’t.”

She put the bags in the trunk and we headed back to the apartment. The guys and I practiced some more while she locked herself in her unit again to tirelessly work on putting the costumes together. She came back up a little after lunch with her arms full of red and black pleather, one of the boot boxes and a small sewing kit. She handed the pleather material and boots to Nikki before shooing him off to go try it on.

***

Reader’s POV

Nikki took the pile from my arms so I could take the sewing kit. His face lit up, like a kid being given his first present on Christmas, and he ran off to his bedroom. I paced around the front room of the apartment waiting for the bassist to come out. I almost sighed in relief when he finally did with a serious look on his face.

“How does it fit?” I asked, sounding as nervous as I felt.

“Like a fuckin’ glove, man! This is awesome!” He enthused, now cracking a smile and turning for all to see the outfit, front and back before coming up to me and giving me a bear hug.

I laughed and returned the hug. “Are you sure it fits ok?

“Yes, stop worrying! I promise I love it!”

“Ok…if you’re sure. Do you want to keep it here, or do you want me to hold onto it?”

“It’s probably better if you hang on to the costumes. They might get ruined here.”

“Alright. Go change back.”

“Am I next, dude?” Tommy asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

“No. Yours is last because it’s the easiest.”

“Aww, man! Wait, shouldn’t Mick’s be the easiest? His is all black, dude!”

“It might be all black, but I had to sew a damn jacket! Sounds easy, right? It’s not.”

“Oh…damn, dude.”

I turned to the singer, “Vince you’re up.”

The man jumped up from his seat and happily grabbed the outfit, giving it a look-over before trying it on “Sweet!” He comes out looking just as excited as his fellow bassist, “This is so awesome! Check me out, man.”

“And it feels alright? It’s not too tight or too loose or anything?”

Vince was a little busy running his hands over the material at first, but then answered me nonetheless, “You kidding? It fits great. We’re gonna be so badass! The chicks are gonna love it!”

The rest of the gang could agree on that matter, giving each other high fives. I smiled and let him know that I could hold on to it all for them. I gulped as I gathered the next outfit for Mick, clearly seeing the rest of the guys lurking over him like a group of vultures. The guitarist kept his cool and said nothing, aside from a slight grunt as he got up from the couch. He gave me a quiet expression of thanks and headed over the bedroom once Vince returned with his clothing and placed it on the table. Some minutes passed while he was changing and though so far there were no complaints, l still wondered if he was alright, or if he needed any assistance. After seeing him in pain like that, I was getting a little worried.

“Hey I need a little help here,” Mick notified.

I made my way towards the room, ignoring Tommy’s repeated attempt to get under my skin by commenting not to take too long. I knocked on the door, “Mick, are you decent?”

“Yeah, come in, just shut the door.”

The man was nowhere to be found after I closed the door and looked around. However my heart started to slam against my ribcage when he stepped out of the bathroom wearing his full ensemble, a big smirk across his face. The black on black look was absolutely perfect on him. The pentagram headband, the studded boots with the intertwining chains, the belts across his chest, the pleather, and the collar. Jesus Christ. The pleather and collar were too much for me. Minus the make up, he was so close to looking the way he did in my dream, the sinister and demonic creature that put me over the makeup table and took me for a ride. I wanted him, no I wanted nothing more than to let him have me anywhere]: pressed against the wall, letting him roughly pull down my pants so that I could spread my legs and he could taste me. Then grab me by shoulders, hurl me onto the bed, and beg for him to fuck me until I couldn’t walk. Still, the costume would get ruined and of course we would never hear the end of it from the idiot patrol.

“This is really cool, you really outdid yourself with this,” he remarked, walking closer to me.

It finally hit me, “You didn’t really need any help did you?” I asked, closing in the gap by hooking my finger in the ring of his collar, biting my lip as I stared deeply into those sparkling blue eyes. That must have done something to him, his breathing becoming a little shaken, and his eyes widening when I whispered to him, “Daddy...”

His pupils were suddenly dilated, blackness engulfing the pale irises. The next thing I knew, Mick held me very close to his body, his hands grasping my back. I tried to keep my sighs quiet as he kissed my lips, however I couldn’t help but let a squeal slip out when he deliciously devoured my neck with his mouth. The heat from our bodies only increased when he pressed me against a wall, his kisses becoming hungrier by the second as my own hands tugged at his raven black locks.

“Mick, oh Mick...” I whispered.

However reality had reared its ugly head back into the frame when we heard banging from the other side, “Hey! Quit fucking around you two!” Tommy wailed. “Come on, that’s our room!”

Mick shouted back, “Fuck you, you fucking teenager! Open those legs, Princess. Daddy needs you-”

“No, no Mick. Please not now, it’s not a good time. Not with those three right outside the door.”

He was clearly frustrated but took his hands off of me, groaning ast he backed off. Still, I wanted him just as badly, so I thought of a different alternative as I clicked the door shut, lifted up my shirt, and pulled down my bra, “Mark me then, please Daddy.”

Without hesitation, Mick immediately held my breasts and pressed his lips to my skin. He was gentle at first, looking at me to see if I was enjoying the feeling of his mouth. I could feel the pulsations between my legs increasing as I whispered his name. I gasped when he took a nipple and suckled on it with ease, but I needed more from him. No sooner did I settle my hand onto the back of his head that he increased the speed of his sucking. His lips were wet, creating a very moistened sound that invaded my ears. He switched over to the other side and did the same, biting down a bit and moving his head back until my sensitive bud was released from his ivories. The sounds of Tommy’s knocking had completely drowned out as he pleasured me with his mouth and I moaned loudly. I couldn’t stop watching the way he pleased me, feeling my panties getting soaked, especially when I saw the fresh blemishes and crescent marks that were upon my chest. I was nearly there and so was he, yet he had to stop for both our sakes.

He gave each breast one gentle kiss and one little lick to my nipples, he leaned into my ear and growled, “You took that like a good girl, Princess. But Daddy doesn’t want to ruin all your hard work.”

I was in a trance as I responded back instinctively, “Thank you Daddy.”

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @sophiazeppelinchick

#mick mars x reader #mick mars smut #mick mars fanfiction #mick mars fanfic #motely crue #motley crue fanfiction

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years ago

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Fire and Darkness Chapter 2

The Darkling x reader

Word Count: 1245

Summary: They’d stayed longer than expected. You get to know them.

They’d been here a week, trapped by the sudden thunderstorm that rolled in the morning after their arrival. According to Anya, Marisha was growing more agitated by the day; cabin fever, she claimed, nothing to worry about. You couldn’t help but wonder what was so bad about taking a breather from being on the run.

During all that time, you’d seen neither hide nor tail of either of the guests when you’d gone out to practice in the shed. You hadn’t even heard them moving about through the little, easily-missed tunnel that connected the shed to the refugee house. Perhaps they were sleeping, you mused. It must have been very hard to be on the road like that.

It wasn’t until the full week passed that you were doing some basic, candle-lighting exercises that you finally heard that old, creaky trapdoor protest as it opened for the first time in several months. Out of it, Adrian’s head of pitch black hair rose slowly, his grey eyes--so much more striking because of the bags around them--darting around cautiously.

You smiled warmly, closing your fist to extinguish the small flame that’d been hovering over it. “I was wondering if I would ever see you again.”

“Marisha doesn’t like it when I make friends,” he explained quietly. How he’d managed to stay as clean as he looked while crawling through that little tunnel, you’d never know. He carefully lowered the trapdoor back into place.

“But she changed her mind?”

He shook his head and moved no closer, leaving a large gap between the two of you. “Not really.”

Really not used to talking to people, you observed. “You won’t get in trouble for coming here, then, will you?” You wouldn’t have him being on her bad side just to see you; you wouldn’t.

A tiny smile tugged at his lips. “Apparently, all my pacing has started to annoy her. ‘Upsets her beauty sleep,’ she claims. Told me to get out and go bother someone else. You happen to be the someone else.”

You grinned. “Well, lucky me!”

His smile fell once more as he glanced around the shack once more, taking in the dirt floor and surprisingly well-built walls. “This place is much more well-constructed than the outside would have you believe.”

“Anya is quite proud of that. It has to be tight enough that none of the light from the fires gets out, but people don’t come sniffing around here because it looks like a death trap from the outside.”

“And she just . . . lets you practice in here every day?”

“Requires it, actually.”

“Isn’t she otkazat’sya?”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Why would she want you to practice if she’s one of them? They hate us.”

“Not her,” you replied calmly. These types of questions weren’t uncommon from the refugees that passed through. “She knows that using our abilities is linked to our health, and she says that the better I am at controlling my abilities, the less likely they’ll flare up unexpectedly.”

Adrian nodded slowly. “She is uncommonly wise, your cousin.”

“Yeah, she is,” you agreed softly. Based on his pallor and the general lackluster shine to his hair, you found yourself asking, “You haven’t used your power in quite some time, have you?”

Now, he shook his head. “It’s not safe.” There was something haunted in his eyes with that statement. Something had happened, and it wasn’t anything good.

“It is here,” you encouraged. “If this place can hide the flames of an Inferni, it can hide anything. So what can you do?”

Perhaps it was the curiosity in your voice, or maybe it was the excitement in the tone, but he took a wary step back. “I can’t.”

You frowned. “I can leave? . . . If you’d like?” You’d hoped to see what type of grisha he was, but you’d seen this type of trepidation before. “But you really shouldn’t bottle your abilities up. You start looking too sick, and people will notice.”

“They also notice if you are too healthy while also having no home,” he argued, eyes flashing.

“I’m sure you’ve learned how to balance that by now.”

“Why do you want me to use my powers so badly?” he snapped. “So you can turn me in if you don’t fancy them? Or is someone around here looking for a Healer slave? Or perhaps a Heartrender assassin to take out a nosey neighbor?”

Your instinct was to raise your hands in surrender, but you knew that would come across as threatening, so you kept them in fists at your sides. “I promise I just want to help,” you said calmly. Refugees rarely came through here without some kind of tragic past; you wished you could say you’d never seen one react like this before. “Perhaps make a friend.”

Adrian scoffed. “What good is a friend that you’ll never see again?”

“We never know who we’ll see again.” This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation; it wouldn’t be the last. “Maybe in ten years, you’ll be the one helping me because we knew each other here.”

There was a bone-weary exhaustion that sunk into the curl of his shoulders when the fight sagged out of him. “You won’t tell Marisha that you were here?” he asked after a long pause. There was a strange history there. The woman was obviously his mother, but there was a tension between them based off the way he said her name.

You shook your head.

“And you won’t tell anyone what I can do?”

“Of course not!” It would hardly be the first secret you’d kept; no one’s abilities had ever crossed your lips in all the time there had been travelers going through here. “If you want, I’ll tell you a secret, too, to make it even.” People usually liked the information trade; it made them feel safer while confiding in you.

“I suppose that would be fair.”

He seemed like the type that needed a real secret to feel even, so you told him something you’d never told anyone, “My abilities started showing when I was a baby. Not even four months old yet.”

Those grey eyes widened. “That’s . . .”

“Freakish? Impossible? You can say it; it’s not like I haven’t thought it all before.”

“You . . .” Adrian chewed his lip thoughtfully. “You must be quite strong if they appeared that early.”

You leaned in and whispered as if telling a bigger secret, “Why do you think Anya wants me to burn off my extra energy every night?”

The gears were practically visible as they turned in his head, some grand scheme forming beneath that sleek, black hair. You wondered what he would look like if he were allowed to use his powers like you, if he were healthy like a grisha was supposed to be. Wordlessly, he extended a hand into the space between you.

You could only stare as the light dimmed around Adrian’s fingers until there appeared to be a writhing black mass where his hand should have been. Very suddenly, you understood why he and his mother were so secretive; you’d never heard of someone with this sort of power. Reaching out your own hand, you extended a tongue of flame towards him. Within moments, that empty space between you was occupied by a line of fire dancing around a line of shadows.

When you looked back up at him, he was smiling. You couldn’t help but do the same.

#the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagine #reader insert #inferni au

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papers4me · 3 years ago

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Fruits Basket Manga Review, ch (92-93)

That was painful & so well-written! This analysis will focus on kyokyo mainly & faintly on her effect on kyo. Although, her story affects tohru’s life immensely, I won’t analyze tohru’s part & will wait until it’s a tohru’s chapter to use the knowledge of kyoko’s past to better read tohru’s mind & understand her decisions! Can’t wait! after all, that’s why I’ve read the manga to begin with!

-Kyoko’s Atonement: (the weight of words):

Kyoko breaks down after she learns she’s expecting. Why? cuz she hurt her mom. The notion that “yeah my parents caused me emotional trauma & so I’mma hurt them as well” is toxic & burdening as it starts a cycle of pain. Kyoko was right. She had no idea how her mom felt seeing her rebel, or follow violence or hear her harsh words. I’m not cleansing the mom from guilt nor responsibility. I’m just saying since the mom’s pov is blocked from us, assuming shes similar to the dad is wrong. kyoko’s fear of being punished with a child similar to herself is genuine, realistic & refreshing to see expressed in anime! usually character like kyoko are cool & brave, but here she’s humanly weak & doubtful. LOVE IT!

Moreover, in furuba words weigh on ppl & have consequences. We see this with kyo. His dad destroyed him verbally with words “ not my fault, it’s yours” that kyo echoes back to yuki! meaning the consequences of the dad’s words cause harm to his wife, kyo & even yuki!. Kyo was tormented with his own words for long time & clung to them even more in order not to resort to suicide! “ not my fault, it’s the rat’s” . Words can crush you down so bad if you hear them from loved ones, & worse if you utter them back to other loved ones! here kyoko learned that just the mere thought of her future child echoing her words back to her would torment her to death! Excellent writing!

-Katsuya invented Furuba’s vision (Accepting weakness & moving on):

The teachings of kyoko & tohru were really katsuya’s after all. I’m fne with that. These teachings are the core of Furuba’s vision. He tells kyoko to accept that she’s weak, afraid & doubtful. it’s okay. But gives her tools to move on. Your kid isn’t you. They’re an individual person. As parents all we can do is give love/hugs (sth kyoko’s parents didnt do), listen to them (sth yuki’s parents didnt do) & if they do sth wrong will explain it & teach them well (sth kyo’s parents didn’t do, his wrong deed was being born a cat spirit & he was hated for it with no explanation, mom gave lots of “fake” love & escaped by death, dad became a raging monster). Accepting weakness & moving on is what the cursed sohmnas needed to do to heal & what tohru taught them. Off course, tohru herself struggled to follow her own teachings & that’s amazingly realistic!

-Kyoko’s guilt (punishment brings ease):

Kyoko wanted to be punished so harsh for her husband’s death. The gossip got to her. She failed him as a life’s companion. Taking care of our loved ones is a duty we carry with much love & care. Them slipping away is perceived as us failing by none than ourselves. The thing is, death comes with no warning at times. It was his time to leave. Accepting it or not, wont bring him back, but accepting it will help kyoko deal with pain while not accepting will cause more pain for her & tohru.

One of the most painful things abt grief is that it’s personal. Life continues around you. Only you feel it. “didn’t the world end when katsuya died”. No kyoko. Only you died emotionally. Only him died physically. Kyo once said “ mom why didn’t you kill me instead”. A different reaction to grief, guilt & pain, but same conclusion: neither katsuya nor kyo’s mom are coming back no matter how much pain kyo or kyoko felt.

Kyoko found ease in emotional death, neglecting & refusing life, punishing herself for staying after him.

kyo found ease in rage & blaming others as he his father did, later he’ll escape to emotional & physical slow death “ cat cage/confinement”.

tohru... found ease in pretending "I’m okay” & her mom is alive.. but not physically.. emotionally, so she’ll ignore the truth & live only for her.

Didn’t I say grief is harsh, weird & very very personal. It’s hard to explain, deal with & heal. The mere words of consolation hurt cuz the grieving ones dont want to accept loved one are really gone. Her dad’s harsh words cemented the “emotional death” that kyoko felt. I’m not needed. neither katsuya. nor parents in general. depression. misery. sadness. emptiness.

-The tv show helped to trigger kyoko’s desire to “meet” katsuya. She has already reached the conclusion that she isnt needed. So, the tv show with their words of the deceased wanting you to be happy. triggered her into misinterpreting the words as to mean her death NOT fuel her to live in his memory as intended.

- “Loosing your way first before finding your answer” is okay & so human!:

Ironically..Tohru... was the person Kyoko was punishing NOT herself: By being emotionally dead, kyoko neglected her daughter. Her world shouldnt be just one person. There are others. Katsuya himself gave her a person to love. Tohru. Kyoko chose death & unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher thsn what kyoko faced. She was about to do, but was saved by a nameless child who reminded her of tohru. She chose wrong first but later saw her answer. Kyo chose death by accepting the confinement & he, too, unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher if he wasnt with her. He chose wrong first but later saw his answer. Off course kyo’s story is more developed & complicated as he dealt with bigger issues than just tohru & his answer wasn't just loving tohru alone but also loving himself & choosing to live for them both: himself & tohru.

-Kyo’s guilt is a concussion thought eating him alive:

Part of why kyo’s story was one of the most human & complex is due him loosing his way first, failing, repeating mistakes “ I always though that hurting ppl was the only thing I was good at, after all, isnt that why mom died?” Kyo’s nightmare being a conscious effect of hearing tohru’s talk abt “ videos & memories of loved ones” is 1000 times stronger & more human than a cliche effect of seeing a “ hat” & to revive a a blocked memory... What the hell!! truly disgusting how the emotional weigh is reduced for stupid cliche drama !!!!!! ..

Anyway, kyo actively & consciously wanted punishment .He was sure that kyoko blamed him” I wont forgive you” can only mean what it literally means. The purpose of the nightmare is to cause kyo to seek “ emotional death” like kyoko & to loose his path more. It is meant to prepare kyo to refuse tohru even more. Therefore, the pay off at the climax will be better & stronger.

Reading kyo’s inner thoughts will never not be refreshing!!! Also, the slow burn is cooked on low , hot fire , so the pay off will be the most delicious there is!

Side Notes:

I’ve stated my feelings regarding the age gap between kyoko & katsuya in last chapter’s preview post. I’m done with it & won’t let it interfere with my analysis of kyoko nor tohru.

The idea of just being together as a fun hanging out activity without being bothered much of where reminds ms so much of kyo & tohru!! we see them being happy together in the anime in kazuma’s house, shigure’s rooftop, cooking pancake in the kitchen! I really like this domestic feel of romance! it contradicts the notion of expensive restaurant with the girl wearing a breathtaking dress to woo the guy for it to be utterly romantic as we see in movies, & other stories.

NGL, katsuya looked sexy waiting home.. damn it! >_<

I cried watching tohru between her parents, how they acted & how loved she was! T_T. it reminded me of my niece How her dad’s death affected her! She was the apple of his eyes.. T_T.

Tohru is indeed a rice ball! her dad gave her a masculine name while tohru is so feminine! his reasoning is “finding salty taste in sweet things make the taste better & stronger, kinda giving it a hidden flavour”, the rice ball has a pickle inside it & it’s what makes the taste so savory & delicious!

Grandpa’s “ chance meetings could lead to variety of outcomes, good or bad” YES! kyo/tohru/yuki meeting each other by chance. Fiction make it look weird, but trust me, real life has those by dozens!

“ i wonder how lost you’ll be, how much time you’ll need to get your answer”. He will screw up so bad, kyoko! it will be so good! one of the best screw up’s I’ve seen! so painful for him & tohru & amazingly written!

Kyo’s nightmare being connected to him remembering/dreaming of kyoko’s story is bigger effect than opening the ep with it & having the cause be sth that happened last ep, a week ago... the effect is NOT the same.

Momiji is so cute!!! did his curse break here or not yet? he seemed as tall as tohru.

Writing tohru worried abt kyo after seeing him pale is the tohru I know!! Not that stupid girl who watches the guy she loves have a panic attach in se3, ep6, then goes in ep 7...” dahhhh.. Jeez.. I duno why kyo is sleeping until now.. better laugh & make cute rice cakes” giggle giggle...That scene got me so furious even when I first saw it!! THIS IS NOT TOHRU! tohru cried for a stupid story that haru told abt puppets!! she’ll forget the person she challenges herself for is sick?! ugh!

I love seeing yuki & kyo chill & cool around each other.

Kyoko being fully dependent on katsuya can be a factor in her grief, but I’ve seen cases where both partners are independent but still be completely broken after the others’ death. Grief isn’t logical at all & is extremely personal.

#Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #ch 92 #ch 93 #sad paper #Anime Only #manga spoilers

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accio-victuuri · 3 years ago

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Hi can you provide the link to read manhuas you prefer?

Hello Anon! OMG Manhua/Manhwa Rec! Here we go! I’ve only been reading for 2-3 months (consistently), so this will be pretty limited. I will link to the legit sites. A google search will direct you to others.

Most of these are WIPs and some, sadly, are discontinued. I won’t add TGCF or MDZS here cause those are already a given. 👇🏼

• Body Electric by Dong Ye ( completed, supernatural, lots of trigger warnings and plotty )

Ba Song is the hotshot cop who’s been handed an open-and-shut case: the suicide of a young woman. Except… who commits suicide by stabbing their own body and strangling themself? There's only one man who can help him with this mystery — Bo Shan, the renowned forensic pathologist with a severe and cold personality. What's more, his body produces bioelectricity, allowing him to acutely sense bodily injury with his touch. There's an electric current between them, and each touch sizzles with energy

If you like crime dramas and stories where they solve mysterious cases then this is for you. The romance is subtle, and their relationship is not insta-love. strangers to colleagues to friends to lovers trope. This also discusses alot of issues the society has that will make you stop and think. Ba Song is really the honorable MC in here who always wants to help people and do good. While Bo Shan is the reluctant one but deep inside, he wants to make a difference too. I wish they would make a donghua or live action out of this.

• 30 year old by S-Monkey - ( ongoing, age difference, blind dates, slice of life)

Charlie Wei is a single and handsome executive. He’s also a closeted gay guy who’s been on way too many bad blind dates with women. Charlie’s still hung up on his ex-boyfriend James and is… gasp, 30! Charlie’s family thinks he’s straight and too old to be without a wife! During another bad blind date, Charlie meets the flirty Ethan, who both annoys and intrigues him. Can Charlie finally come out and find true love with Ethan or will he continue on his streak of bad blind dates?

The cover looks melodramatic but it’s really not. This is so funny! I read this because people were saying it reminded them of BoXiao. And yes, there are moments here that remind me of them, but it’s more like an AU of BoXiao. I stayed up late trying to get caught up in the chapters and you won’t realize it cause it’s just that good. I love seeing the older MC loosening up and being more of himself. and the younger one being more responsible in his career. They just become better versions of themselves because of each other. It’s so sweet!

• I ship me and my Rival - by Pepa ( ongoing, comedy, reads like a meta )

This follows the adventures of Wei Yanzi, a third-rate actor in the Chinese entertainment industry, stumbles onto a shipping fandom for himself and another actor (Gu Yiliang) while trying to escape from the flame wars and negativity. He's so taken with this group of fans who actually see him as a good guy instead of an enemy/rival of Gu Yiliang that he falls head-first into fandom and becomes actively involved in trying to provide shipping fuel and the fans' daily dose of fluff.

IF THERE IS ONE thing you will read here, let it be this. It is hilarious. If you are a CP fan you will relate so much and it’s a good time. It just shows how people who think are rivals can actually be really good friends in real life. What we see is not always what it seems. and people will interpret things based on their bias. The MC here is so dramatic! how his inner feelings/reactions were drawn will make you laugh.

• Path to You - by Sinran (completed, slice of life, age gap fluff and comedy )

When almost college dropout Jensen attempts to drink away his problems, unemployed Nathaniel suddenly pukes on him and ruins his night. As an apology, Nathaniel offers to help Jensen with his studies. Despite Jensen's difficulties in getting along with people, the two become friends and something deeper begins to grow between them

The story is so soft. If you want something with mild angst/misunderstandings— then pick this. I love the progression of their relationship and how they take care of each other. There are other themes showed here other than the romance.

• Red Candy - by Hanse (completed season one with a cliffhanger, explicit scenes, assassins )

Shihyeon, aka “Red Candy,” is a secret agent whose code name comes from bathing in the blood of his marks on dangerous missions. Shihyeon’s tasked with seducing and obtaining intel from Hajun, a hot college professor. Shihyeon can disarm enemies, but didn’t expect to be disarmed himself by Hajun’s own tight body. Now Shihyeon’s caught between loyalty to his spy agency and Hajun. Can Red Candy survive the incoming wave of enemies and still indulge in the sweet ecstasy of Hajun’s embrace?

THIS STRESSED ME OUT MAAAN. Wow. I loved this. That season one cliffhanger. It’s definitely up there as my favorite. If you think about it, the tropes are really not original. An assassin is sent to shadow a person and they develop a relationship. That simple. But NOOOOO! There are so many things going on. The Main mystery plot, Their relationship, their shared past plus you have other sketchy secondary characters. And did i mention explicit scenes? Lots of them. I want this two to have a happy ending!!!

• Lone Swan - by Chu Man (discontinued, cultivation, star crossed lovers)

After losing his memory, Yiqiu Shen, a disciple from the decent sect meets a very special man named Luofeng Yan, who is the leader of the evil Divine Wind Cult. When escaping and conflicting with Yan, Shen gradually finds his original self as well as his previous love back. Together they rip off the facade of the martial world and reveal the hidden true

I didn’t want to add a discontinued story here, with no novel as a source material but this one made an impact on me. so. yeah. THE ART. breathtaking. The plot = layered. There are times I don’t even know who is telling the truth. It had so much potential and i hope it will get picked up again at some point. People rec this to those who enjoyed TGCF and MDZS, and they are right. 👍🏼

• Dragon in Distress by Si Wang Wen Hua - ( ongoing, dragons, past life, lost power, fantasy )

This is a story about a little Eastern green dragon and a little Western black dragon playing together.

The synopsis is pretty simple if you look at it but this one is pretty interesting. and surprisingly funny. tinie AoAo is so cute! 🤍 the other MC has tsundere tendencies tho. Lots of lore and more truths to uncover as the story progresses. I’m not giving it enough justice with how i’m reccing it, but if you like dragons and fantasy — give this a go.

• Breaking through the clouds 2: Swallow the Sea - Huaishang (ongoing, based on a novel, crime, drama, cases)

Wu Yu, a newcomer of the Public Security Bureau, is gentle and frail. He doesn’t care about the difficulties posed by Bu ZhongHua, his strict boss, and only wants to stay in the background to be paid on time with enough for food. However, no one knows that this young man’s head is targeted by top drug traffickers for a large bounty or that this courageous young man has once slaughtered the dragon of the abyss. With a chain of interlocking cases, a series of troubles come one after another. Can the two people work together to survive through the difficulties?

Do you see a pattern with me? lol. I like crime themes. This one is the same and by the looks of it, the cases they solve will take longer to unravel. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on yet so i’m just going with how the manhua is progressing. I like it when Wu Yu turns full on action-mode and when ZH takes care of him. Plus it helps that they are both gorgeous. I’ll get back this with a proper link.

• Where the Wind Stays - by Yusa (completed season one, curses, demons, possession, timeskip, explicit scenes)

To break an ancient curse that plagues the royal bloodline, young Prince Tasara is destined to be sacrificed in death. Nara is enlisted as a palace servant to carry out the prince’s execution when the time comes. But he develops a soft spot for the cursed prince, and after committing an atrocious and unforgivable act against Tasara, Nara is desperate to right his wrongs. Soon, their lascivious relationship that had been kept under wraps tests his resolve. Will Nara be tempted away from his original mission? There’s no telling how far he would go to earn Tasara’s forgiveness.

This story broke my brain, in a good way. I don’t wanna say much cause it will spoil the story. It’s the type that you gave to see and suffer through yourself. I am excited for what happens in season II!!!

Honorable Mentions:

I’m placing these here cause I have only read a few chapters and tho I liked them, I wanna read more before reccing it in full. 👍🏼

• I accidentally saved the Jinghu’s enemy

• Global Examination

• Monster entertainment

• Demon Apartment

And that’s it! Hope enjoy Anon! 😊

#ask response #rec #manhua rec #manhwa rec

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dirty-urie · 3 years ago

Text

Experience

Chapter 4

2.6k words

Warnings: masturbation, slight anxiety

You miss Brendon as soon as he leaves, but he’s been adamant that your relationship can’t affect your career, so you don’t even text him before settling down behind your piano to work.

You play everything you’ve written so far, pounding the keys of your piano in anger. Nothing sounds right. You rip out your notebook pages, crumpling them up and tossing them unsuccessfully into the trash bin.

He calls you at around one, and you immediately answer, welcoming the break. “Hey, baby. What are you up to?” You ask.

“Video games,” he admits, laughing. “What are you doing?”

“Working on the song for that TV show I told you about. It’s… slow going,” you groan in frustration.

“I’m sorry, love. I wish I could help.”

“…Maybe you can,” you say hopefully. “Can I come over tonight? I can’t tell you much about the show, but maybe you can provide words of encouragement.”

“Of course, darling. And at the very least I’ll be there to provide some stress relief,” he says suggestively.

You laugh. “Is this your horny brain?” you ask.

“Uh yeah.”

“Oh, is my boy thinking about getting off next to his girlfriend?”

Brendon whimpers. “…maybe.”

“Mmm, I’m thinking about it too, B.”

Brendon makes another turned-on noise. “Well first, I’ll help you with your song. But then we can be nasty.”

•••

“Have you tried the same thing, but in a minor key?” Brendon asks, playing it for you.

You bang your head against his shoulder. “I did. It didn’t work thematically.”

He brings his arm around to rest on your lower back soothingly. “What if you tried ascending notes instead here?” He offers, pointing to your notebook. “Then the music reaches a climax of sorts before the theme sequence of the show ends.” You play his new version while he sings your rough lyrics, and you both cringe. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound right with the lyrics,” he concedes.

“I can always change the lyrics, but still. It’s not right. Maybe doing this the old-fashioned way is messing me up,” you sigh. “I’ll fiddle around on Logic tomorrow.”

“I can help with that too!” Brendon says excitedly.

You kiss his cheek before sliding off the piano bench. “You’re the best, B. Thank you for your help.”

“No problem! It’s nice to have something to actually work on. Now, you seem to need stress relief.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you think he’ll ask to make out, but he takes you by surprise by asking, “You wanna jump in the pool?”

“I do!”

•••

Brendon wolf-whistles as you walk into his backyard in a bikini.

“Was this a ruse to see me scantily clad?” You ask playfully.

“No! Saltwater and sunshine are great ways to relieve tension, and you need that. Seeing you scantily clad is just a fun bonus.”

You giggle before jumping into his pool. He follows right behind, and you emerge just in time to see him pop up from the water. He flicks the water from his hair, and you swim towards him. “Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

“Why would that be bad?” He asks.

“I feel like we should do more than kiss all the time,” you say, wrapping your legs around him. “We’re out in the sunshine, and all I want to do is drag you back inside”

“We don’t have to kiss if you don’t want,” Brendon makes sure you know.

“No, I do want to kiss you. I just feel bad doing it so often,” you clarify.

Brendon shrugs. “The honeymoon phase will end, and we’ll want to do lots of things besides kiss, so for now, I think we should embrace this,” he says, closing the gap between your lips.

You kiss him greedily. “What if this doesn’t pass?”

“Maybe it won’t,” he pants. “I certainly won’t complain.”

You bring your hand between your bodies to stroke down his muscled stomach. “Me neither,” you decide. “Can we go rinse off and then get in your bed?”

“Hell yeah.”

•••

You take longer in the shower than Brendon, so he’s already waiting in his bed in sweatpants. He smiles when he sees you. “Hey, pretty girl,” he coos.

“Hi, B,” you say, snuggling up next to him.

Brendon puts an arm around you. “You nervous?”

“A little. But mostly excited.”

“That’s good. How do you want to do this?”

“Um. I guess we’ll kiss. And then you can take off your pants.”

Brendon laughs. “Good plan, babe. Do you want me to cover myself with a blanket or something?”

“Yes please. But, uh, if you don’t mind, I’d like to… look first. Just out of curiosity.”

“That’s fine,” Brendon giggles.

“Thanks, B,” you giggle back, pouncing on him.

He kisses your neck, and you shiver. “Can you touch my boobs again?” You ask.

Brendon moves his hands from your lower back up to your breasts. He circles your nipples slowly. “Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” you groan, grinding on his stomach.

You kiss him, hungry for his lips and tongue on yours. Brendon is more tentative than usual, letting you take the lead, and you appreciate it. “I can feel you,” you tell him.

Brendon pulls away, panicked. “I’m sorry, love. We can switch positions?”

“No, I just meant, do you want to… start?”

“Oh! Sure, I’m ready if you’re ready.��

You inhale shakily. “I’m ready. It’s okay if I’m nervous, right?”

“Of course, but it’s also okay if you don’t want to do this.”

“No, I do! I really do! I promise. I’m excited,” you reassure him honestly. You roll off him, leaving a generous amount of space between your bodies.

Brendon leans across to kiss your cheek before giving you space again. “Can I take my pants off?”

You nod. “Go ahead.”

Brendon hooks his fingers under the waistband of his pants and slides them down nervously. For some reason, maybe respect, maybe anxiety, you don’t let yourself look until his pants are fully down. And even when you do look, you fight the urge to study him. You’ve seen penises before, of course, in passing, in art, in textbooks, and in diagrams back in school. But never aroused and never so up close and personal. This isn’t just any old penis; this is your penis. You stifle a giggle at the thought.

“You’re not disappointed?” He asks lightheartedly, but his tone has an edge of insecurity.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek, still leaving a generous amount of space between your bodies. “Brendon, no, of course not. You’re beautiful, baby. I could never be disappointed by a part of your body.”

“That’s sweet of you, y/n. Thank you. That being said, you still want me to cover up?”

You think for a second. “Yes please. If you don’t mind. I just think I’d feel more comfortable,” you explain, and he immediately pulls the blanket over his hips. You can still see the outline of his erection pushing up against the fabric, but now that you’ve seen it for real, it’s less intimidating. For the first time, your arousal outweighs your nerves and discomfort.

“Of course, honey. I’ve probably said it a thousand times, but your comfort is the most important thing to me,” Brendon says. His hand disappears under the blanket, and you stare at him intently, but you don’t think his hand is moving. He makes a funny face. “I'm not exactly used to being watched like this. I’m sorry,” he laughs.

You smile encouragingly. “Now who’s feeling awkward?” You tease. You soften your face and voice. “It’s okay, Brendon. I know this is kind of weird. And you don’t have to do this. You can just go ‘take a shower’ alone to take care of that,” you gesture to his erection, “and I’ll just watch a man masturbate in a porno or something,” you reassure, then you cringe at the thought. “Well, no, I don’t want to watch a slimy stranger get off; I want to watch my boyfriend get off in all his sexy glory,” you correct, and Brendon smiles warmly at the mention of the word boyfriend. “But, that being said, you’ve been incredible at making me feel comfortable and safe, so now it’s my turn to tell you that you’re completely in control, and we can stop at any time.”

“And I thought you’d be the one freaking out,” Brendon chuckles quietly.

Your eyes widen. “You’re freaking out?” You ask, concerned.

“No, darling girl, definitely not. I’m just impressed with how well you’re handling this,” he praises and you relax.

“Oh, good. Thank you, Brendon.” You kiss his cheek again, sliding slightly closer to him in the process. You still maintain a slight cushion of space between your two bodies, but you no longer avoid him as if he’ll shock you. The slight increase in intimacy actually relaxes you more; it somewhat minimizes the strangeness of the situation. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” You ask.

Brendon’s face gets red. “Oh um, yeah, actually. I normally sleep on the other side of the bed, so my lube is in the nightstand next to you, and I would appreciate it if you could hand it to me. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, B.” You say, reaching over to rummage through the drawer of his nightstand. You have to fight off juvenile embarrassment as you spot a box of condoms and a few (clean, thankfully) clean-up rags before you finally grab the bottle and hand it to Brendon. “Wow, this bottle is almost empty, you slutty, slutty man,” you tease.

“Uh, that’s your fault, pretty girl,” he retorts, and you bite your lip bashfully. “Too much information?” He checks, worried about crossing the line.

You shrug. “Maybe, but your dick is out, so it would be strange for that to scare me off,” you giggle. “Plus, I like the thought of affecting you like that. Even though I feel bad that I’m not ready to take care of you yet.”

“You already know that I don’t mind going at whatever pace makes you the most comfortable at all. Plus it’s not like masturbating is exactly a chore,” he points out.

“That’s true,” you agree. “Well, I’d imagine that’s true at least,” you amend. “Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Oh, well, yeah actually. I think I’d feel better if you would touch me,” he says, and he sees panic cross your face. “No, no, not like that. I don’t want you to touch my- I mean, I don’t want you to help get me off; you know I wouldn’t ask for that. As long as you’re comfortable, I’d just want you to pet my hair or something. I think that would make me feel less like a display and more like your lover.”

You relax and angle your body towards him more, scratching his scalp. “Oh, yes, I’m okay with this,” you assure, and Brendon puts a little lube on his hand before bringing it back under the blanket. You see the motion of his hand as he strokes himself back to hardness and you hear the slick sound of him moving noisily over himself. His jaw goes slack and his breathing gets heavier as he pleasures himself. Arousal immediately burns low in your stomach as you watch him. You have to bury your face in his chest for a moment to catch your breath.

“You good, honey?” He asks, the pace of his strokes slowing down.

“I’m great,” you whine against his skin. “Just,” you fumble for the words, “this is turning me on more than I expected,” you admit. “I like to see you feeling good.”

Brendon groans deeply, and you look up to see his face screwed up in pleasure. “God, that’s so hot, pretty girl,” he gasps, and you whine again in frustration. Brendon bites his lip, looking up at you. “Aww is my best girl feeling needy?”

You nod, flipping onto your stomach to grind against his bed. “Sorry, Brendon,” you pant.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I asked you to get off for me, and now I’m not even watching you anymore,” you laugh breathlessly.

“As long as you feel good, I’m perfectly happy. Like I said, masturbating is hardly a sacrifice, and I’m definitely enjoying doing it next to the woman I love,” he says happily.

You kiss up his neck, snuggling closer against him. “That’s sweet of you, B.”

Brendon groans at your lips against his sensitive neck. “It’s the truth, sweet girl. I love having you here. Slight awkwardness and all.”

“Oh, Brendon, I love having you here too. Especially getting to watch and hear you. And you make me feel so loved and safe,” you tell him, shifting to rub against his hip. You move frantically now, even though you know you won’t be able to come.

You turn your head to watch him work, still resting your head on his chest. His movements stutter and still. You turn back to look at his face. “What’s wrong?” Brendon’s eyes are closed and furrowed together, and he’s biting his lip hard. “Brendon, shit, are you in pain?” You ask.

He shakes his head, breathing quickly through his nose. You give him a chance to compose himself without asking any more questions. “No, sweet girl, don’t worry. I,” he starts before taking a deep breath. “I need to come,” he chokes out, and you gasp as you make out his hand under the blanket gripping the base of his cock.

“Oh.”

Brendon nods, body still completely tense. “Yeah. How do you want me to come? I can leave if that would make you more comfortable,” he offers. You furrow your eyebrows, overwhelmed by the options. “Honey, you know I never want to pressure you, but I’m going to need you to decide quickly,” he groans, grimacing.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you blurt quickly. “But I don’t want you to have to worry about cleaning everything up,” you cringe.

Brendon laughs to himself, a little embarrassed. “I’ll have to wash these sheets anyway. I’m leaking like crazy for you.”

You whine, rolling your hips forward against him. “I wanna see your face when you come, Brendon. Please. Come for me,” you beg.

“Of course, y/n,” he moans before his mouth falls as bliss overtakes his body. He shakes before his body goes limp, and a content smile plays across his lips. You bury your face in a pillow, trying to temper your frustration while he comes down. You know you need to come; you just don’t know how to get there.

He rubs your back with his clean hand. “Are you okay? Was that too much for you?”

You shake your head. “I’m not upset.” You roll onto your back, pawing between your thighs helplessly. “Just,” you blush, “horny. Incredibly horny.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry. I know that’s hard,” he soothes.

“Is this the universe punishing me for teasing you?” You lament.

“That’s surely not it because you haven’t been teasing me. That implies something intentional and malicious. You’re just existing, being sexy,” Brendon points out. “Plus you’ve never been able to come. Even before you met me.”

“In all fairness, I had little motivation to try before I met you, but yes, that’s true,” you sigh. “You should go shower and clean up, B. I’ll put new sheets on your bed.”

#brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie smut #my work #brendon urie imagine

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mobagehelllocal · 3 years ago

Text

“lucky ending” extra notes i & iii

Hi, I said I would do it but then I released ver i so long ago that I felt I shouldn't do this unless I had another version out at least so yay! finally! ... I'll add ver ii here when I get around to writing it... *shifty eyes* So as usual, this is just my thought process and ideas while writing lol.

*please do not read if you haven’t read “lucky ending” ver i (dorm leaders) & ver iii (rook & lilia).

It was inspired by an anon ask and the button tradition from Japanese schools.

The anon ask went like this: First at all, I like do much your writing and I hope you are doing well. Second, I was wondering what would happen if the MC (Fem!s/o I guess) decided to not go back to her world, like she decide stay with her villain? Can you do make headcanons of this for the dorm leaders? Thank you very much. – from Anonymous

The button tradition, as narrated by the first years, is done when one person confesses and the other responds by giving them the button closest to their heart. In most Japanese uniforms it’s the second uniform, but in Twisted Wonderland--I looked at the ceremonial robes and the closest button should be the fifth. Maybe. I could be wrong.

The songs I listened to while writing this!

The original dorm leaders (and Rook) was written while listening to “Lucky Ending”, the ending theme of Fruits Basket. The English lyrics (translated by otenkiame!) are:

“Change is important. I want to do it well,/ but I wanna cry. It's still bad. I wanna cry”

“The word "goodbye" has disappeared completely from this world/ All that remains is me fooling around next to you/A day you don't laugh won't come anymore”

“I've understood it since being here/ These feelings of wanting to protect you aren't a misunderstanding/ If we can call what connects us bonds,/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Even if in a different world, it'll never be different/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Don't change, ever/ Stay here, stay here”

I think it’s obvious why I chose to use this as the title of the series. It’s a story about change but it’s also a story about the things you don’t want to change... And I think it’s not wrong to want to hold onto things.

I also listened to the same playlist that I listened to while writing “wendy?” “hello peter pan”:

“Can’t help falling in love” cover by Annapantsu, “If you’re not the one” by David Beddingfield, “Who Knew” by P!nk and “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift.

For Lilia in particular, I was listening to three Beauty and the Beast songs on loop. “Evermore” by Josh Groban, “Days in the Sun” by the live action cast and, of course--”How does a moment last forever” by Celine Dion.

“How does a moment last forever?/ How can a story never die?/ It is love we must hold onto/ Never easy, but we try/ Sometimes our happiness is captured/ Somehow, our time and place stand still/ Love lives on inside our hearts and always will”

Also for Lilia, Tolerate It by Taylor Swift.

“You're so much older and wiser and I/ I wait by the door like I'm just a kid”

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky/Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life”

Malleus was definitely the first piece finished. Closely followed by Vil’s. I believe there was a gap inbetween them before I did the others? I wrote bits and pieces of Leona, Idia, Kalim and Azul’s. I think I finished Leona, Idia, Kalim then Riddle because I distinctly remember saving Azul for last.

One of the most important things for me, is that each story stands distinct of each other. So I gave myself a really hard time trying to figure out how each one uniquely belonged to each of the characters.

For the Prologue... I think because it’s set at the graduation of certain characters, I used that to my advantage and implied the stronger bonds between the Yuu!Reader and the entirety of the cast. Because a lot of time has passed and I feel like--regardless of what other people believe, bonds will be made and relationships will have strengthened enough for it to happen.

Riddle is honestly another really difficult character for me to write. I generally do love him and I enjoy his story, but something about him is difficult and I’m not sure why.

I think a part of me is also really miffed because from Heartslabyul-Savanaclaw, you could feel that Riddle really cared for Yuu on some level but then he just straight up disappears come Octavinelle chapter. I feel like there was potential to develop their relationship even more.

He WENT UP AND TIED YOUR RIBBON I REMEMBER I WENT DOKI DOKI OVER THAT.

I feel like because I’ve established that it’s a Yuu!Reader, it’s impossible for this story to not include both Ace and Deuce. So of course they featured in really big roles for this one, being responsible for telling Riddle the story.

I have to thank my friend, Mes, for bouncing ideas with me. They were the one who suggested what I could do with Riddle’s story by having ADeuce play such a big part!

I also tried my hardest to include Trey and Cater, and I’m pretty happy with their cameo. In a way, they definitely helped Riddle figure out his own feelings for you.

My favourite lines are: “I think you earned that much. I don’t believe anyone’s ever been in your situation before so—there’s no right or wrong about what you’re doing. It’s all about what you want to do.”

I wish someone would tell this to Yuu in general though. They’re the only one who has ever been in their situation (to our knowledge at least) and like... they’re definitely allowed to be even more selfish.

Leona is someone who I used to dislike a lot. I never hid that. It’s primarily because of how disappointed I am in the story of Savanaclaw probably. But like, I was always concerned about writing him properly because I thought that it was only right that I did right by him, because there would be people reading these stories who loved him. And I felt like I had to do right by that love.

I think... it’s wrong to believe that characters... villains... cannot fall in love or “won’t fall in love.” I think it’s wrong also to think that “people don’t change for love.”

In fact, people do change. You definitely shouldn’t change yourself to be loved, but... people change all the time to be their “better” selves. So whose to say that a good person, who you love, will not make you want to improve yourself? Isn’t that what we want when we meet people? To fall in love with someone who will ultimately make you better and never worse.

Or so that’s how I try to write the Twisted characters when they fall in love... With an understanding that “morally” the person they are falling for is “kind” and “good” and how a part of them might just want to be better just for that person. (Especially Leona and Azul). They don’t necessarily have to be nice to everyone, but if they can be better for one person... We stan healthy character growth.

But yeah, Leona is driven by understanding that he’s a very selfish person. But that he’s also very unfortunate and he doesn’t want tie you with someone who, he thinks, is actually worthless. He probably, deeply, thinks you deserve more.

Though his selfishness eventually wins out and well... Won’t you forgive him for it? :) For tying you down to this worthless second prince?

I think his own self-awareness does make him try harder. Not for everyone or everything... but for you. Just for you. I think that would be Leona’s love language--spending time with you, trying for you.

He’d appreciate if you didn’t call him out on it though, that would be very embarrassing.

Looking back, I’m surprised that it was the only version where none of the other boys from his dorm showed up lol. Which means Ruggie is the sole character who has yet to appear in the “lucky ending” series, huh.

My favourite lines from his story that still leaves me breathless and patting my past self in the back: ““I’m home—” you said—even if a part of you felt that home should have been two green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a warm patch of sunlight on the grassy ground.”

Like honestly, what was I on? Who was she?

Azul is, like Leona, someone who is so keenly aware of the things he’s lacking. In fact, he’s someone who thinks he’s lacking when he’s probably perfect in some aspects. He might act proud but a part of him--I think--thinks its not enough. It’s never enough. He can certainly do better still.

In that light, it’s why he thinks he’s undeserving of a partner. Especially one who is “kind” and “understanding.” While ultimately, Azul deserves people in his life who are that and “accepting” of him--I think he still thinks he doesn’t.

And thats why he lets go of the Yuu!Reader. It’s why he doesn’t “chase” after her like Leona did.

It’s because he’s selfish, because he wants her--that he forces himself to let go.

Azul needs someone who’ll tell him that he is worth something and that he’s definitely worth the effort. So please praise him a lot until he’s crying in happiness. I’m sure it’s the one thing he’s always wanted to hear from people around him.

Also my Poly!Octavinelle Agenda has never died and I am pleased Past!Ai got away with so much Poly!Octa hints in this story lol. But honestly, regardless of wht Octavinelle says... god, you can tell they genuinely care about each other.

I recently rewatched Octavinelle’s chapter and... by god, the amount of things I missed out on first watch. Jade’s concern when he realized Azul wanted to get rid of that photo... The fact Floyd was so willing to drop the fight to return to Azul too... Anyways, Poly!Octa Agenda for life.

Favourite lines: “Azul’s pathetic whimpers turned into guttural sobs. His fingers spread to cover his eyes—and his glasses slid off his face, down to his lap and then to the ground—at his actions. His whole body shook as he cried his heart out.”

It’s not as poetic as a lot of my other favourites, but for some reason these lines always get me when I reread them. There’s something so visceral about it.

Azul’s piece is probably the least visually stimulating out of all these stories? His was so emotionally driven compared to the others and I worried a lot about that.

I think I remember I was crying so badly as I was writing this.

Kalim is really hard for me because I feel like I struggle a lot with finding conflict in his character? He’s such a genuinely nice person, I find it hard to believe that the Yuu!Reader would feel alienated from him or something. So I brought in “environment” to get in the way.

My use of celestial imagery for Kalim is because of the Scarabia trailer! I really loved how it put Kalim as the sun and Jamil as the moon. I definitely will take advantage of that when I get around to writing for Jamil.

So because I wanted to use the sun, I chose to use the idea of comets for Kalim? I think I remember something about how meteors are drawn to the gravitation pull of the sun and can “escape” it or “be destroyed” by it. Haha, hot.

Jamil is someone who ultimately cares about Kalim too and I had fun writing his banter with the Yuu!Reader. I think I wanted to decribe the shadows licking his face reminscent to the marks from his Overblot but... I felt like doing that would give Jamil too much focus so I ultimately decided against it.

It would’ve been hot though.

Oh yes, one thing I wanted to talk about is Kalim’s rushed proposal. I remember people talking about it in the tags, comments... even in asks at that time. The reason he does it is because he’s someone who didn’t realize his feelings until you spelled out your own. It was a sort of: “Oh. Right. That is the word I’d use to describe my feelings.”

My favourite lines from his story is: “How does one bid goodbye to the sun?” and “No one ever willingly bids goodbye to the sun.They spend the rest of their lives trying to find the right way back to it.”

My god, who was this genius.

Vil is probably the most visually stunning out of all these stories. I feel like my stories go from super vivid imagery and setting to just complete emotional disasters lol. (Vil being the former and Azul’s being the latter... not that it’s bad, it actually suits the characters).

Oh man, I remember thinking that Vil is such a hard character to write because we don’t know what his motivation for perfection is. All we knows is that he wants to be the best but, why?

It’s like, for example, Idia. His motivations could be otaku-related. He doesn’t want to go to class because he’d rather go play or something. That sounds in character--but Vil was so hard because he wanted perfection.

But we already see him as such a perfect character, so what else did he need to be even more perfect? In that light, Chapter 5 did a really good job on presenting Vil’s motivations.

But honestly, I think I can comfortably say that the Vil I’ve written so far is pretty accurate? To his character. I’m really grateful I read his chat lines because his comment about intelligence really got me thinking about his possible motivations. It made it really easy to understand that Vil wasn’t like majority of the real world’s influencers.

One other thing that I was really happy about with his story is the use of the flower language. It’s something I hope I can use more because it’s so beautiful.

Oh! And the roses the Yuu!Reader talks about are double delight roses. They are specifically bred to have two colors--yellow in the center and pink on the outside. I thought it fitting that the Yuu!Reader breed special roses for Vil.

They can be called... err... Vil Roses?

My favourite lines from his story is: ““My happiness will not be dictated by others—no, Vil Schoenheit is a person who will grasp happiness with his own hands.” [...] “I’m giving you this button because I’ve already found happiness by your side.””

This line was actually inspired by Zelda C.W.’s MYth series. Specifically Hera’s story, Will.

Idia ...for him, I somehow had a very hard time imagining him trying to tell the reader to stay. Like that didn’t compute for me? I felt like his version was better approached in a more comedic light somehow.

I also felt that it would be cuter if the Yuu!Reader had already chosen to stay and Idia would need to hastily retrack his confession... Unfortunately, Yuu!Reader won’t let him.

Honestly looking back on it, I wonder how much of Chapter 6 is going to make me scream and want to rewrite Idia’s part?

My favourite lines from his story is: “He was never particularly good at lying—nor was he good at keeping secrets from you. You were a person he considered a dear friend—and he was always the type of person who ended up spilling everything to you. He liked being able to talk about the things he enjoyed—he liked that he had found someone who wanted to hear him out.”

A lot of my interpretation for Idia is closely linked to personal experience as an anime, manga and gaming fan. It was just a couple of years ago where people would actually be bullied for liking these things--but nowadays its become a norm. It’s... stunning actually but it makes me happy to know that maybe nobody will be judged for loving anime.

That being said, Idia’s longing to find someone he can talk to is something I really relate too--back then, it was so difficult to find someone to talk to about my interests... So I interpreted Idia as much the same. That what he enjoys about the Yuu!Reader is their ability to simply sit and listen to him talk.

Malleus... man, recently I’ve been starting to fall in love with him all over again. He was my first oshi ever... Anyways, moving on. You think I’ve talked enough about immortal x mortal but nope, we are not done. I love this theme in general, romantic or platonic.

I will never shut up about it you can’t make me.

Sebek having a good enough friendship with Yuu!Reader is such a delicious concept. Like mutual respect and Sebek understanding that Yuu!Reader gives Malleus a different type of companionship that Sebek, Silver or Lilia couldn’t...

And also, ultimately, Sebek and Yuu!Reader do love Malleus. In different ways, but I like the thought of Sebek respecting that and respecting the Yuu!Reader.

Me realizing just now that Silver joins Ruggie in the: “has never appeared in a lucky ending fic club.”... Sorry Silver, I swear soon. Once we get more content on you.

Celestial themes for Malleus are primarily, again, because he only ever seemed to meet you at night. And I thought it would be wonderful, if you were a bright spark to him.

Favourite lines are definitely: “Oh, bright light… I would prefer to live the rest of your life by your side… rather than spend centuries contemplating what it could have felt… to hold you in my arms.”

I am, always, going to be such a big sucker for the idea of immortals constantly remembering and loving mortals. Always holding them close in their memories, because in that way--their lovers have become immortal with them.

I also like to imagine that he eventually figures out a way to connect your worlds together so you can still talk to your friends and family from that world. He is one of the most powerful magicians around, I’m sure its possible.

Rook was honestly the most difficult piece for me to write because he’s so hard(?) for me to understand. He’s a mess of contradictions honestly and I... guess I’m excited to see what he’ll do come Chapter 6.

I actually rewrote his story so much. I got about 500 words with a different idea/plot in mind before deleting that completely and restarting from scratch.

I feel like Rook is someone who talks big and talks about love without actually knowing what it truly might feel like. He’s someone who doesn’t understand it and ends up mistaking it for his fascination.

Aside from me enjoying inserting other characters from the same dorm as much as possible, I felt that Vil was the perfect person to snap some sense into Rook.

Epel’s appearance there is basically to reflect how much I really hope the first year kids get really close to one another.

Rook is also someone who I think, doesn’t try to explain himself too much. He’s someone who I think talks a lot, but if people don’t understand him then he doesn’t need to be understood? That’s my impression. Lol, when “lucky ending” became a character study.

I also really loved the idea that Rook was fine with people running from him--to him that makes it all the more thrilling. But then you start running away from him and that just ends up making dread pool in his stomach.

My favourite lines from his story: “‘When something ends, it must be sad. So, tell me then, how an ending could be so beautiful?’ [...] .‘But there was one ending that was beautiful, non?’ [...] ‘That’s right. ‘They lived happily ever after’—are those not the words that define a beautiful ending?’”

I used the dusk metaphor for Rook. My idea is that he starts seeing dusk as an ending and how he can’t fathom how any “ending” is beautiful. When a story ends, it’s not beautiful to him, humu. But when that ending is the happily ever after then... That makes all the difference.

Lilia was actually easier than Rook’s but also fairly difficult. I had written the middle of Lilia’s piece while stumped on Rook’s actually. Lilia’s was probably easier because I love the idea of immortals and mortals.

I don’t really like the idea of mortals becoming immortals. Like, yes, it’s certainly sweet and spending eternity with a one true love is definitely the best possible ending but... I think there’s so much weight in an immortal choosing to love a mortal while knowing that they will ultimately lose them.

The biggest theme for Lilia is definitely time.

Thinking about it now... There’s been a lot of things in real life that’s just... Made me think about how we have less time than we actually think we have. And I think I ended up channeling that through Lilia... Though I feel like it is ultimately things Lilia would think about though.

The most important imagery would probably be the stars.

I honestly wanted to avoid it because I used celestial imagery for both Kalim and Malleus but the words just flowed out in a way that I felt that I couldn’t replace. So I went with it.

Lilia is no stranger to loneliness. One of the reasons he feels less alone is because he has family now and he doesn’t want to rob you of that. Family is so important to him because they are people who are meant to be with you--they are people who will make you less lonely--or so thats how I think? he thinks.

My favourite lines from his story: “He would relish in the way—You made the world pause. You made a moment extend into an eternity. You made an immortal crave just a little more time.”

I’m so immensely proud of this one? I don’t really have much else to say. There’s something so raw about it that I love. Also the part where it continues on to say that “Because there is never enough time.”

Me realizing my extra notes is just half me simping over these characters, half sharing headcanons, have actually giving good advice? perspective?, half song lyrics, half character study/analysis?

“lucky ending” is about change. Whether we want them to happen or not it’s... the human condition to change. For better or worse, we change--day by day. I think we all operate under a small panic about how everyday things are changing...

But “lucky ending” is also about the things that don’t change. Won’t change. Will never change. The things worth holding onto, the thing worth fighting for... or so I’d like to think.

#aimuses #ainotes #ai lucky series #twst #twisted wonderland #its 6 AM HEEHOOO

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years ago

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 11: Gamble and Gossip

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Some scene setting, and fun teasing. Who doesn't like to be teased about the two hot guys that are begging for their attention? And I mean, I sure do love writing these boys! Thanks for reading. I appreciate you guys so much. It's made this experience SO much fun. Will update again tomorrow... and also maybe Monday if all goes well ;D

Part 10 Part 12 Chapter Index

Liu Kang was seated amongst a handful of other monks, undoubtedly leading them in meditation. It was afternoon and Kung Lao had some time to think over what you had said the night before. He’d since made a few decisions on the matter. Before doing anything, he had to run it by his ‘brother’. Liu Kang had always been more level-headed than he was- more careful, more studious. Kung Lao knew that Liu Kang was going to hate his idea but it had to be said. He didn’t see another way out.

Leaning against the wall near the door, he tilted his hat and waited for the monks to finish their meditation. He’d never been big on meditating either. He’d done it, obviously, but his thoughts had always run amok throughout. Liu Kang spoke with the other monks and then waited for them to leave the room before stopping in front of Kung Lao, arms folded over his chest expectantly.

“All done?”

“You could have joined in. Less distracting.”

“I’ll pass.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Later.”

“What?”

“We’ll talk about that later. It’s not why I’m here.”

“Then…?” Liu Kang sighed expectantly, bowing his head as one of the monks peeked inside to thank him for the meditation. “What?”

“I want a fair chance.”

“What does that mean, Lao?” The sigh Liu Kang gave him was a familiar one and it made Kung Lao laugh under his breath.

“It means that we should order takeout. What do you think it means, Liu? For Y/N, obviously. You knew exactly what I meant. Why waste time and make me explain it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He knew that Liu Kang was going to hate this. Even talking about you had made him uncomfortable.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“You know that I wasn’t actually apologizing, Lao. Get to your point.”

“We’re going to make it interesting.”

“I thought we’d already talked about this.”

“Did you think we were actually done talking?”

“I had hoped.” Liu frowned. “She can do whatever she wants, Kung Lao. You and I don’t have any say in what she does. She’s an adult. I’m not going to fight with you over her. That’s ridiculous. We’re not schoolboys.”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Kung Lao chuckled and Liu couldn’t have looked less approving.

“This is feeling very childish.”

“Oh, come on. You like her. Right?” Liu Kang said nothing in response but then when Kung Lao gave him a knowing look, Liu nodded.

“Well, so do I.” Kung Lao shrugged. It was simple. They had a problem so he had come up with a creative solution. “To be fair? I saw her first…”

“…I’m coming back to that we’re-not-schoolboys thing and find I’m having to remind you that we’re not children.”

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying that there’s no reason we shouldn’t make this interesting. We’re both vying for her attention and whoever wins? Wins.”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to call you an asshole?”

“We bet on it.”

“I was right. You’re an asshole.” Liu Kang silenced him with a look and Kung Lao smiled. “I’m not betting on someone else’s choices, Kung Lao.”

“Hear me out, Liu!” Kung Lao followed his brother out of the room and down the hall. Liu Kang stopped and turned to face him expectantly. “It could be fun?”

“Ugh. Isn’t she going through enough right now without us and… you being the way you are?”

“I’m just saying, Liu. This is happening one way or another so why not have a harmless little game on the side?” Kung Lao joined him in his walk, amused by both his brother’s disgust and curiosity.

“And what would the stakes be in this hypothetical bet?”

“That’s more like it.” Kung Lao clapped his hands together and stretched them in front of him. “Chores? Errands? Something harmless. For like a month.”

“And the other backs off. Bows out. No hard feelings.” Liu Kang suggested and stopped his walk, tapping his thumb against his prayer beads in thought.

“Finally, you’re part of the fun.” Kung Lao laughed. “Chores too, though.”

“So, what exactly would the terms be? Also, I’m throwing it out there that I do not feel terribly good about this. It feels manipulative.”

“It’s not. You like her. I like her. Neither one of us is leading her on. No one’s lying.”

“And yet now there are stakes. We’re betting over the decisions of another human. It feels… morally gray at the least.”

“What? Are you worried that I’m going to steal your girl? Who was my girl to begin with, just as a reminder.”

“No.” Liu Kang was instantly defensive. “And she doesn’t belong to anyone. I need you to stop phrasing it that way.”

“You’re worried that she’s going to kiss me first and not know what to do.” Kung Lao teased. “Worried that you might lose all that extra ground you covered while I was gone.” Kung Lao enjoyed making Liu Kang uncomfortable and was happy to see him considering his game. He wanted a fair shot and it seemed the only way without arguing with his brother. Liu Kang averted his gaze and looked far past Kung Lao who followed his gaze and then scoffed in surprise. He’d already kissed you. Well, that certainly changed things. “Interesting. So, I’m working at a bigger disadvantage than I thought.”

“Disadvantage?” Liu rolled his eyes. “You grew up together. She holds you in deep reverence. She asks about you all the time. That’s not a disadvantage.”

“Don’t pretend that being made of fire isn’t working in your favor. Neither of our standings are fair so… that makes it kind of fair, right?”

Liu Kang rolled his eyes again. “What are the terms, Kung Lao?”

“Well, first we agree not to be angry with each other no matter what comes of it.”

“Annoyed is acceptable, right? Because I’m already annoyed.”

“Of course.” Kung Lao swatted him on the back. “Well, then the only terms are her choosing one of us. Like you said. It’s not really up to us.”

“So, I’m supposed to be fine wondering what the two of you are up to. Is that the real reason you’re doing this?”

“I said that being annoyed was fine, remember? Besides, it’ll make you work harder.” Kung Lao teased, though he didn’t love the mental image of Liu kissing you either. That ship had sailed apparently and he had ground to regain. “So when she chooses, then one of us wins.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. No strings attached. I’m not going to even brag.”

“I don’t believe that for a single second.”

“No, really. I’m just trying to cut the air between us over it. This way we can be honest. I know that she’s attached to you and while she’s attached to me, that’s in a different sense. Also, I want you to do my chores and errands for a month.”

“Well, aren’t you confident?”

“I’m the descendant of the Great Kung Lao. What makes you think that I won’t?”

“Fine. We can have this little bet. You are, however, an asshole to think of this. When she inevitably gets angry about it? I’m deferring to you.”

“Defer away. I’m extremely charming.” Kung Lao clasped his shoulder and then gestured down the hall. “Spar? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

***

You slept into the next afternoon, something that you had sorely needed. When you woke up, you were alone and grateful for it. You adored Liu Kang and Kung Lao but the air had become thick with them around. It felt nice not to have to have your guard up for a few minutes. For now, you could lay in bed, curled up in your blanket like a burrito, and procrastinate on getting on with your day.

Your side was sore and you were exhausted despite the extra sleep. That was to be expected considering the blood loss and trauma of the night before. After a few minutes spent rolling around in bed, you got up, got cleaned up, and dressed. Then you made your way down to the infirmary, stopping only once to help a monk who had their hands full. You figured it was better to go make sure that your side was doing okay rather than have to break the promise you’d made to Chen the night before.

You walked into the infirmary and speak of the devil, there was Chen. You smiled and waved in greeting to you. You returned the wave shyly and stepped further inside. Chen offered you a hug, then urged you to take a seat on the bench you’d sat upon more times than you could count now. Chen took the seat next to you.

“I was hoping that you’d check in with us today before getting yourself into more trouble.” Chen looked to you disapprovingly and you pouted. “You know, it was pretty peaceful before you arrived.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“Okay, so it’s not much less chaotic, but still. It’s been much bloodier the last few weeks with you around. Come on, shirt up, let me see.” Chen was a few years older than you, you suspected. You hadn’t asked but the way Chen spoke led you to believe that there was a small age gap. You had worn the tank top from the night before. It was so much easier to maneuver around than the gi or the hanfu. You put it in the back of your mind to ask Lao or Liu if you could leave the temple at some point to buy some other clothing. You liked the hanfu and the gi but they were antiquated and inconvenient at times.

You tugged up your shirt and Chen pulled the gauze away from the wound. The skin around it was tender but you didn’t flinch. Chen wasn’t gentle with you anymore either. In fact, she’d told you several times that the best way for you to heal would be for you to be treated normally. You’d even heard Chen scold Liu Kang once for pampering you and had a good laugh about it.

Chen tended to the wound. You didn’t look at it. It was very sore even though it had been cauterized. It made your whole torso ache, even sitting upright was a chore. Still, at least you weren’t bleeding out anymore. You could recover from the blood loss at least. Chen rattled on about her day while she worked, talking about the walk she’d taken that morning and a delivery of medicine that had come with one of the other monks returning from a long journey.

You struggled to focus. It wasn’t that Chen was boring, just that you were exhausted and the pulling and tugging of the wound didn’t help.

“So, yesterday was interesting.” Chen shoved your shoulder when it was clear you were no longer paying attention to her stories. You pouted again.

“That’s one word for it. Miserable? That’s a pretty good word for it too.”

“Oh, I suppose that was interesting too but I meant with Kung Lao.”

You rolled your eyes so hard that Chen laughed and smacked the back of your head. “Ow! He felt guilty, okay? Your brain is constantly in the gutter.”

“I thought you were sweet on Liu Kang.”

“Could you lower your voice if you’re going to talk like that? Jeez.” You hushed her and Chen laughed.

“We all thought you were sweet on Liu Kang.” Chen lowered her voice.

“I didn’t come here to talk about this. I came here to keep my no-bleeding-in-the-temple promise. So please, please let all of that go and do the thing where you tell me to be careful but go about my day.”

“Okay, okay.” Chen continued to clean the wound and was quiet only for a second. “…but you know? That was interesting. Kung Lao doesn’t come down here often. Avoids us like the plague. Yet, he stayed here nearly all night long for you.”

“You can’t agree to let it go and then keep yammering on about it. That’s lying. You’re a lying monk. That’s probably bad. Morally gray at the very least.”

“You’re being awfully evasive.”

“Not evasive I just don’t really want to talk about it.” You laughed. You had dwelled about these things enough on your own. It was nice, at least, to know that the tension wasn’t in your head. The others had noticed it too, so you weren’t going crazy. Was that good or bad? You had no idea.

“Like hell!”

“Again? Probably bad for a monk.” You laughed nervously as others stopped to look at you with Chen’s outburst. Chen waved the other monks off and they returned to their tasks.

“This is the juiciest gossip we’ve had in so long, Y/N.”

“I thought that you were supposed to be humble and all that.”

“We’re not perfect. That’s part of the deal.”

“I’m just saying that it feels like someone somewhere is probably judging you for this.”

“We’re still allowed to experience fun and excitement, Y/N. And this is very fun. And exciting.”

“Making me uncomfortable? That’s what’s fun and exciting?”

“Yes, Y/N. So, Kung Lao. What’s going on with that?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What about it is so complicated?”

“I knew him when we were kids. Old friends, I guess? Like I said, it’s complicated.” It was so much more complicated than you let on.

“Oh, come on.” Chen laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. It really was ridiculous. The whole situation was absurd. You were glad for Chen then, who brought you back down to earth. You got so into your head about everything the past few days that hearing someone else’s voice on the matter was a reprieve, even if it was terribly embarrassing. “Please tell me that you two went and had some fun.”

“Chen!” Your face turned red.

“You’ve had nothing but pain since you got here, well except for that time I caught you and Liu Kang snuggling. Sue me for hoping you got to have a bit of the opposite.” Chen considered it and then shrugged. “Well, or a lot of the opposite. With at least one of them.”

“You can’t possibly be a monk. Someone has lied to me.”

“Your face is so red. I’ve never seen it that red.”

“You’re killing me.”

“It’s delightful.”

“My face can’t handle much more of this, I swear. Are we done here? Can I go throw my head in cold water and think pure thoughts?” You dared to peek at the wound and winced at the sight of it. It was ugly but still better than it looked the night before. Chen fanned the wound with the gauze in her hand.

“You should come meet us later so that we can catch up.”

“You mean gossip. You want me to meet you to gossip.”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.” Chen covered the wound with the gauze and you pulled your shirt back down over it.

“We’ll see. The day’s already half over and I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing today. If I have free time, I’ll consider coming to bother you.” You weren’t sure you’d get the chance but if it ended the torturous teasing for the time being then you would at least consider it. Besides, even with the teasing, Chen was good company.

“I could find us some wine.”

“You are the worst monk,” you whispered.

“I expect a juicy story in return.”

“I don’t have any juicy stories.” You lied. You lied right through your teeth.

“Before you run off, please just give me a few details of…”

“Y/N?” Kung Lao’s voice interrupted and Chen sat upright and pretended to be working on cleaning up the mess she’d made taking care of your wound. Your face was still red and you shot daggers at Chen with your eyes but Chen was smiling brightly and avoiding your eyes. Chen stood up and allowed Kung Lao to take the spot where she’d been seated. You took calming breaths to try and will the redness away from your face.

“What are you doing here?” You cleared your throat and Kung Lao placed his hand to your cheek. His hand was cold in comparison but took up the entire side of your face.

“Are you having a reaction? Your face is on fire.”

“Just overheated. It’s warm out today.” You urged his hand away from your cheek but his fingertips still lingered. This was the worst timing. It was as though he’d planned with Chen to embarrass you. He didn’t seem to think you were embarrassed though, instead, he was concerned.

“How are you feeling? Wound still closed up?” Kung Lao reached to tug up your shirt and you gasped in surprise and swatted his hand away. He looked wounded as he pulled his hand back then grinned playfully.

“Don’t be so grabby. It’s fine. I just wanted to check in on it before going about my day.”

“Probably hurts something fierce still.”

“Yeah, it’s weighing on me.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you managed to relieve the burning in your face.

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“No.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Not a good enough reason.”

“Wow, okay.” He patted your leg with a laugh and rested his hand there. You did your best not to stare at it and also tried to ignore Chen spying on you. “If you’re done here then why don’t we get up and practice a bit?”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Kung Lao.” You stared at his hand on your leg.

“You won’t get any better if you don’t keep it up. Nothing too crazy. Won’t even use my hat.” He tapped the brim and then brushed his fingers along the side of it.

“I’m nervous.” You hated that you’d admitted it and regretted saying it immediately. Kung Lao urged his hand from your leg, tilted his posture toward you, and brushed his fingertips over your jaw and beneath your chin. You fought off another shiver and he scooted closer to you, knees just barely pressed against yours.

“I promise to protect you. Don’t worry so much.”

“I uh…” Your voice, once again, felt small, something that was becoming much more common this close to him. He smirked as if realizing you were uncomfortable. “I’m more nervous for you than me. I attacked Liu without knowing.”

“I can handle myself, Y/N.”

“Oh?”

“I’m happy to prove it to you,” he whispered in your ear. You felt your heart stop dead in its tracks. His breath was hot on your ear then suddenly he stood up and left you seated alone. “Come on. Let’s go.” He walked out of the infirmary and you watched him go, stupefied. Chen grabbed your arm and urged you to your feet and mouthed for you to go.

“This is such a mess. A complete and total mess.” You followed after Kung Lao and Chen made a joking kissy face as you walked out of the infirmary.

#mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #liu kang #kung lao #ludi lin #max huang #liu kang/reader #kung lao/reader #liu kang x you #kung lao x you #angst #romance #teasing #gossip #fanfiction #fanfic #love triangle

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

Text

Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip.

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier.

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted.

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sequel #birch #biker boys of birch #biker au #biker!au #marvel #mcu #captain america #falcon #tfatws #avengers

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letsperaltiago · 3 years ago

Text

somewhere only we know

This is my entry for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange and it's for lovely Johanna aka. @amyscascadingtabs <3 I picked the prompt: "Jake and Amy going on a babymoon and enjoying some time together before everything changes for good."

It's very simple and just pure good, happy parents to be-vibes so yeah :) I initially wanted to add smut but didn't have the time to write it :(( If you feel like it's something you'd like, then feel free to lemme know! I can always add a chapter two heh. Anyways, enjoy!!

Rating: G

Words: 2.7k

Read here or on Ao3

“Jake, this is… amazing.”

This seems to be all Amy can come up with as the hotel room presents itself before her. Better or bigger words seem to be lacking from her otherwise excellent vocabulary but she blames it on the fact that she’s been carrying a tiny human for the past 35 weeks - not that she’s complaining. It’s been hard, both physically and mentally, and there are a few more weeks to go but by the end of it all, she’ll be holding her little baby boy.

She’s tired and every inch of her body swollen and/or sore, but more importantly she’s eager and excited. Jake is too, if not even more than her, and this has resulted in the current scene: their babymoon.

“You like it?”

The way Jake asks her, eyes shining with innocent expectation and voice laced with childish excitement has her imagining just how their little boy will turn out to be. She can’t hold back her smile. This man will walk to the end of the earth to make her happy, essentially already has during this pregnancy, and the babymoon is just as much for him as it is for her.

She turns on her heels to face him, showing him the bright smile that’s plastered on her makeup-free face which has gained some freckles during her pregnancy.

“You could’ve planned a trip to a dumpster and I would still love it.”

Hands cupping his scruffy cheeks she pulls him in for a short but tender kiss that even so many years later, after thousands of kisses, has his toes curl in excitement. She truly would’ve stayed anywhere as long as Jake was with her. Although she does appreciate the fact that she’s standing in a beautiful lakeview suite at the LakeHouse Inn.

“Should we reassess how much we refer to dumpsters and other gross locations when we declare our love for each other?”

She chuckles at his comment, lips resonating against the corner of his grin.

“Should we?” She slowly slides her hands to the back of her neck, entangling her fingers to keep her latched onto him even as she pulls away to flash him a pretend contemplative expression.

Eyebrows cocked in playfulness, they share an indicative look in silence, only for them to break it in unison. “Nahh.”

“Right? It’s what makes us us.” Jake pulls her in by the hips which are carrying their son.

Everything about Amy reminds him of their little miracle and makes him feel all tingly and excited. One look at her, one touch, and he forgets about the rest of the world and its crappiness. He has Amy and together with the tiny human in her belly, she is his entire universe.

“Exactly.”

She closes the gap between them (as much as she can with the full-blown balloon shape of her stomach).

“So,” she mumbles against his lips, “what are your plans for us?”

Sadly, the 3-hour drive from home didn’t do wonders for her heavily pregnant body and even though she won’t admit it out loud, she hopes her husband’s plans for tonight will demand the bare minimum of her. She feels his lips and body withdraw, prompting her eyes open however the mischievous smile that meets her has a dimmed anxious feeling creeping over her - he does remember she’s 35 weeks pregnant, right?

“I know that look, Peralta.” Her voice is distrustful, and after 7 years together she should know better than giving in to his teasing, but her suspicious air only fuels his fire and desire to mess with her.

“In honor of my incredible and always so organized wife, there’s a tightknit schedule waiting for us.”

Tightknit schedule? Amy would usually be beaming at these words but right then and there, swollen legs, hungry and feeling everything but hot and fit after the drive, she aches to fall back onto the bed and sleep for days. It’s huge, king-sized, with crispy white sheets and the fluffy pillows are definitely calling her name. Although, the fact that Jake has everything planned out for their last vacation together, just the two of them, does pull on some heartstrings. He loves her so much and she loves him so much too. So much that she (almost) doesn’t turn a hair when he proudly starts listing their schedule for the evening and following day.

“So right now it’s 4 PM which means unpacking-time. At 6 we have a dinner reservation at this cute little restaurant in a little town nearby so we’ll need to leave at approximately 5.45. At 8 there’s a showing of Die Hard at the local movie theater, which I thought we could attend?”

Okay, maybe her left eye flinches at this but very discreetly (or so she chooses to believe).

“Then tomorrow there’s breakfast at 7, which is perfect because we have canoeing on the lake at 8.30...”

She zones out after this. Hormones, tiredness, the fact that she can’t feel her feet- there are a thousand reasons but Amy can feel the most is tears prickling, threatening to spill. Not because she doesn’t appreciate her husband’s efforts and grand gestures, all for her, but because she can’t stand the thought of doing any of these sweet things he’s planned for them. She can’t cry though. He’s going to think something is actually wrong.

“Babe?”

However far gone she was, the sound of Jake’s voice pulls her back in and there’s a confusing mixture of mischief and pure adoration shining from these famous deep brown eyes. Why is he almost smiling when she’s having a tiny meltdown?

“Are you crying?”

“No?” she scoffs although she’s proven wrong upon touching her cheek where her fingers are met by a thin wet streak. “I’m just,” she clears her throat in hopes of avoiding a strained voice, “so overwhelmed by happiness and everything you’ve planned for us. It all sounds… great.”

Silence dawns upon them as Amy’s fake smile tries to convince him. On his part, Jake is biting his lip in an attempt to hold back a laugh, but his wife’s panicked look and teary eyes have him failing to last and after a couple of seconds he breaks the quietness.

“Honey, I’m messing with you,” he chuckles and quickly pulls her back in for a tight hug, as tight as the belly allows, pecking the top of her head. “I know you love a good schedule but the only plans I have for us are: staying in bed, ordering room service, and watching tv.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The moan of relief flies out of her before she can even consider how it must sound to Jake, a great deal of embarrassment hitting her upon realization. She just made it sound like she wouldn’t appreciate her husband’s effort to make this weekend of theirs the best.

“Jake, I’m so sorry! I didn’t-”

She pulls back to look him in the eyes, ready to offer a sincere apology for her blunt exclamation. She never gets to. Instead, she’s met with a huge grin and her husband looking everything but mad or hurt. Almost as if he knew. He knew how she’d react. He wanted her to react.

“You sly sneak! You knew you’d freak me out!”

Only her husband can trick her like this, and, on one hand, it’s very endearing... Jake Peralta is more than just a good cop; he’s excellent. Brilliant and bold, maybe even too much sometimes, although he usually gets away with it. Usually, she’s always on his heels and she hates to admit it, but her mommy brain and restless hormones are making it much harder, if not impossible, to keep up with his always upbeat pace.

“Of course I knew, babe.”

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t even find it within herself to be genuinely annoyed with him. He’s pulled her back into his arms and is looking at her with that mischievous smile that can both infuriate and enchant her. Tonight it’s a little bit of both although mostly the latter, she has to admit and the last bit of annoyance melts away the second he leans in, offering her a soft kiss that lets reminds her of the fact that he’s the best thing in the whole damn world.

“I love you,” she manages to mumble against his lips before he can pull too far back, her swollen fingers cradling his jaw to emphasize her words. It tampers with any kind of reasoning and her ability to remain miffed.

“I love you too...” her husband mumbles back against her lips.

Pulling away isn’t an option, he’s too addicted and he enjoys feeling the air coming from her nose when she chuckles. “How much?”

“At the very least enough to not make my heavily pregnant wife canoe around a lake.”

“Peanut and I appreciate that very much.”

Although after all these months there’s a comfort and familiarity in being able to rub her belly and know her son is in there, safe and sound, knowing he soon enough will be out here in the real world with them has butterflies fluttering in her chest. Jake’s hand joining hers in stroking her belly only causes the number of butterflies to multiply, explode all over again, and her hormones are making her question whether she wants to cry or laugh - or perhaps do both. After such a long wait, from the second they decided to start trying, there’s no blaming her impatience. There’s so much to expect and patience has never been her strongest asset. Only when it comes to Jake and their son. She’s impatient to see, hear and feel it all. The life and adventure she’s created with the man she loves the most seems scarily close yet torturously far away.

With no reason to leave in sight, Amy finds herself bundled up in a hotel bed sent from heaven, wearing nothing but panties and her favorite nursing bra. Jake is on an errand run to grab her the creme cheese-filled pierogis and Arroz con Leche their son and she are very much craving. Although she does prefer her abuela’s homemade version of the latter, even a pregnant Amy can come to terms with the fact that there are limits to Jake’s super husband-powers. He can and will get her almost anything as long as physically possible - or within a radius of 20 miles which Abuela Dolores at this given time for good reasons isn’t.

Amy had insisted on the hotel’s room service menu being more than fine, but her husband knows her all too well and could tell she wasn’t content with the ravioli and créme brulée she’d originally settled for. Before she could even begin to protest his offer to run out and get it for her, her husband had pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and left her behind with a peck to the top of her head and a promise to be back in not too long.

In all honesty, the ravioli and creme brulée would’ve been fine, and she would’ve preferred Jake to be here to cuddle her. Nonetheless, there’s no denying how loved and important Jake makes her feel. Especially when he suddenly walks in the door, multiple plastic bags hanging on his arms and car keys dangling from his mouth. The view is hilarious, to say the very least, and she wonders: how did she ever get so very lucky?

Perhaps she will never know the answer to this. Luckily when you’re cuddled up in a soft hotel bed eating pierogis, fries, grapes, and Arroz con Leche with the love of your life, it doesn’t really matter how you got there. Being too busy talking, eating, and making out, the documentary about the history of paper Amy’s been dying to watch is mostly just background noise.

“Can you believe we’re having a baby?”

Her husband’s mouth is filled with fries and before she can even think of answering his question, she has to reach over to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes… but also no. In a good way.”

It’s true. She always knew she wanted kids but wanting is one thing; actually outliving it still seems surreal to her, even as she runs her hands around the curve of the skin encapsulating their very own little human being. What makes it so much more surreal is the fact that Jake Peralta is the father. Jake Peralta, the guy who she 6 years ago could only pine for. Now she’s lying in bed with him, watching him smile at her with those soft, brown eyes and warm rosy lips that she not so secretly hopes their son will inherit. He swiftly wipes oil and salt off his fingers before reaching over to place his hands on top of her belly. Placing hers on top of his happens like a newfound reflex of hers. His hand is warm and feels like home.

“This is probably the last getaway we’ll have, yanno, just the two of us.”

His soft voice has her looking up from their joined hands on her belly to see him looking directly at her with glistening eyes, the blue light from the television casting a blue hue on the side of his head. He looks so handsome, pensive, so perfect and she can’t come to terms with the fact that he’s her’s and she his, and together they’ve created new life.

“Yeah. More likely than not.”

“How do you feel about that? Are you scared? You know- of giving birth and how life will be after that?”

A few beats of silence go by, only the dull sound of the tv filling the otherwise silent room. His hand never slips out of from beneath hers. Does this question maybe reflect some worries of his?

“Not scared, per se...”

She quickly makes sure that there’s no food in-between them before scooting in closer to him. Her hand slips off of his only to slide up his arm, all the way up to cup his face. There’s close to no room between them. Her thumb dances across his cheekbone.

“... Excited, maybe a bit anxious, but I know it’ll be alright and so very worth it in the end. And yeah, our life nd dynamic might have to change a bit but it’ll always be us. But I’m not scared,” This seems to put a damper on his running mind. “And you know why?”

“Hm?”

“Because I have the world’s best baby daddy.”

As hoped a wide smile lights up his face, pure unadulterated joy so obviously present in this little moment of theirs. Worries seem irrelevant and non-existing.

“Are you worried, babe?”

She sees his smile fade a bit but not enough to genuinely worry her. Just like everyone, he has his thoughts and worries. With care comes worries. He wants to do his best, she knows.

“Maybe a bit, you know? Like not genuinely worried like I would’ve been a few years ago, but just… averagely worried.”

“That’s okay,” she comforts, her thumb still tracing smooth lines on his cheek. “It’s normal. It just means you care and want to do good, which is all I can really ask of you.”

“I do care. A lot. So so much,” he chuckles shyly.

“Which is also why you’re going to be fine, I will be fine and everything will be fine.”

She doesn’t give him the time to agree nor protest but instead leans in to place a long, tender kiss on his lips, inviting him to join in on the moment. It’s just a simple kiss, soft, like the one they had a Shaw’s after agreeing to stop trying (which eventually lead to more trying, but that’s beside the point). With every breath, they take the kiss grows deeper, longer. It’s as if their bodies are aware of the fact that this will be the last time they get to do this without a child to get home to; without the responsibility of being a parent. All at once, it’s frightening but also, more than anything, exciting. Their lives might be on the verge of changing forever. Although lying there in bed together, feeling the soft touch of their spouse, it feels like they’ve never changed and never will. They’re always going to be Jake and Amy.

#B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake x amy #peraltiago #fluff #brooklyn nine-nine #jake and amy #mac peralta #baby peraltiago #oneshot

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