#i’m running for office and this is my stance/j | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

Hello it’s me again could you please do Jesse Cromeans x single mother with a child whose deaf and the father of the child is abusive and trying to make the reader’s life horrible then Jesse crimes to the rescue lol hope it’s not too bothersome or confusing

-🖤

Warnings: abusive past relationship

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) X Single Mother with a Deaf Child and Abusive Partner:

You had been working for Jesse’s organisation for a little while but he never really noticed you, since you didn’t work that close to him.

His assistant had been off sick for about a week, and you had been assigned to take over her role until she got back.

That was the first time he truly took notice of you, instantly becoming a little intrigued.

He recognised the signs soon after. The way you acted around him and others despite nobody giving you any direct reason to fear them. How you apologised too quickly, worried about messing up, how quiet you were. You were good at your job, though.

When you had first headed to his office, to introduce yourself and explain you would be his assistant for a little while, he had gone to communicate through text to speech. You were quick to assure him that you understood sign language if he preferred to use that, your hands moving along with your words as if to prove it.

It had made him smile.

Placing down his phone, he used his hands to ask how you knew sign language.

“My son in deaf, sir” you explained with a small smile.

A son? Jesse knew he hadn’t spotted a ring on your hand, so you mustn’t have been married.

Over the week you spend together, he quickly learnt how to act around you. How to keep his distance as to not intimidate you, how to alert you to his presence so not to scare you.

But you quickly became comfortable around him. You knew he was a dangerous man but he had never been anything but kind to you.

Eventually you wondered when his usual assistant would be returning, only for him to tell you that you would be taking on the position permanently. A part of you wanted to argue, to ask more about the woman who’s job you were taking, but the pay raise just couldn’t be overlooked. Not when you had a son to think about.

So, you took to your new role easily. You worked closely to Jesse, the two of you hitting it off with a surprising ease. Perhaps it was because you could communicate so easily? He found talking to you less bothersome? You weren’t sure, but you enjoyed his company.

Normally you would greet him with a smile, two coffees in your hand. This morning was a little different.

When Jesse got to the office, his coffee was already sitting on his desk. Still warm. He found you at your desk, hanging your head, hair forming curtains around your face, scribbling something down.

He approached your desk with purposeful footsteps. He knew that you had heard him but you didn’t look up.

He used the text to speech to say you name. You pause for a moment before looking up at him.

Even through the make-up you had applied, he could see the bruise that had formed along your cheek. You knew he had seen it, you saw the anger in his eyes and how his shoulders tensed.

“What happened?” he asked simply, getting no response. “Come into my office” some people found it difficult to decipher tone in sign language but you had become an expert, his body language was tense but you knew the order held some gentleness.

You followed him to his office, he closed the door behind you both before guiding you over to his desk. You sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and he sat in the other, not putting the desk between the two of you.

He once again asked what happened, who had hurt you.

You had been working with him for a while now, months, and you had noticed how much safer you felt with him. You could smile and laugh without a care when you were with him, you had fallen asleep in his office once while working on some paperwork with him, and you had woken up to a blanket draped over you.

He had even met your son once. It was after work hours, he had called you asking for a file that he couldn’t find. When you realised you had accidently taken it home with you, you offered to bring it in. He hadn’t expected to see you step into the office with a young boy trailing behind you. You handed him the file and he thanked you for it before looking down at your son. He seemed a little timid, standing just behind you cautiously.

From what Jesse had assumed, the boy didn’t have great male role models in his life and he knew he was an intimidating man anyway. You couldn’t help but smile when Jesse gave your son a small wave, which he politely returned. But when Jessed signed “what’s your name?” your son’s face lit up in a smile before telling him his name. Jesse also introduced himself.

All of that just to say that you felt that you could trust him.

So, you told him everything. How you had broken up with your boyfriend, your son’s father, a long time ago because of how abusive he could be, you didn’t want your child to be put through that. How, for a while, the father stayed out of your life, seemingly disappearing. How he recently started calling and showing up at your door, demanding to be a part of your son’s life. How he had harshly slapped you for denying him access to your home only the night before.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, but you weren’t surprised that you had. Jesse moved out of his chair, kneeling down in front of you as you lifted your head to look at him.

“Is he still bothering you?” you nodded. “Has he called you today?” you told him that he had been blowing up your phone so you blocked the number but that wouldn’t stop him from coming to your home again. “Are you sure you’re safe at home?” he asked and you paused before giving him an unconvincing nod.

Of course you weren’t safe at home, but you didn’t want to burden Jesse, your boss, with your personal life.

But he knew you were lying, and he wasn’t about to send you back home to deal with him.

“You can stay with me for a while” he offered as he stood up, your eyes widening as you looked up at him.

“No, I can’t do that. I’m fine really” you didn’t want to be any trouble, even if his offer was very tempting. You would be safe, your ex would never guess you were staying there.

You argued and protested some more but Jesse kept insisting, and you eventually gave in. The offer was generous.

He let you use his bathroom to wash your face and clean up in. The two of you finished work early that day and, since you usually take public transport to work, Jesse opened his car door for you.

He took you to your home, where you packed two bags. One for you and once for your son.

He then took you to pick your son up from school once the school day was finished. Your son seemed excited to see Jesse again, running up and hugging you hello before signing his greeting to the well dressed man beside you.

“We’re going to stay with Jesse for a little while” you knelt down to your son’s height, a little surprised but glad to see his bright smile.

Jesse also smiled, this being one of the few times you had called him ‘Jesse’ despite how many times he had told you to do so.

Jesse’s home is grand and modern and impressive, it managed to stun you a little. But your son was nearly jumping up and down with excitement.

“Do I get my own room?” your son signed up to you. You looked to Jesse for an answer, and he nodded.

Jesse didn’t have a kid’s room in his home but he did have some guest rooms, one of which he gave to your son. “It’s the biggest room” he had told the young boy, making his smile grow even more.

That night, your son went to bed with ease, having worn himself out, and you returned to the lounge where Jesse was sitting with a drink.

“Thank you, Jesse. You really didn’t need to do all of this, it’s very generous” you sat down beside him.

He told you that he considered you to be a friend, that he refused to sit by and let your ex harass you. He wanted to look out for you and your son, you were his assistant after all.

For a while everything was going well. You and your son were still staying with Jesse, the three of you getting along well and adjusting easily to your new living situation.

Jesse found that he enjoyed having you both there. He was aware that he had developed some feelings for you and was fond of your son, so he really didn’t mind you staying with him. In a way, he was getting what he wanted.

Things got a little worse when you went to pick your son up from school one day, finding your ex waiting for you both. You had instantly called Jesse, waiting by the school for him to arrive so that your ex couldn’t bother you too much, it was too public.

When Jesse’s car pulled up in front of you, your ex was talking to you. Your son clinging to your hand, both of you clearly afraid.

As soon as your son saw Jesse stepping out of the car, his face lit up. He released your hand and ran over to the man, who gently guided the child to stand behind him. Jesse’s stance protective.

“Are you ready to go?” Jesse signed and you nodded, quickly walking over to him.

Of course, your ex had never bothered to learn sign language, so he didn’t understand any of it. He was quick to start snapping at Jesse, asking who he was and to leave you all alone, to mind his business, he was just trying to talk to his son. Your ex has always been foolish and hot-headed, trying to pick a fight with a man so much larger than him.

As your ex got closer, Jesse placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back harshly. He looked over his shoulder and nodded at you, you quickly ushered your son into the car, getting in with him. Using the text to speech on his phone, Jesse threatened your ex. You couldn’t hear, you could only see that he was using the device, but he was threatening your ex to stay away from you and your son.

Your ex backed off and Jesse got into the car, driving the three of you home where you could comfort your son and he could comfort you.

It wasn’t too long after that when Jesse went on his first business trip since you started living with him. It felt strange to be living in his home without him but it had started to feel like your own home. Jesse made sure the two of you stayed in touch, talking everyday.

He returned home after about two weeks. As soon as he stepped through the door, your son had run up to him with a huge smile to greet him with a hug. The two had become close. Your heart warmed when Jesse lifted the young boy up into an embrace, flashing you a proud smile as he kicked the door shut behind him.

So domestic, how a child should react to his father returning after two weeks away.

That night your son had asked if he could stay up late because Jesse was home, you couldn’t convince him to go to bed, but Jesse convinced him by promising to do something special on the weekend. It had you smiling again.

You and Jesse did stay up a little longer that night, talking and catching up. He asked if your ex had given you any trouble, you told him that he hadn’t. What you didn’t know was that your ex would never be bothering you again, Jesse had made sure of it.

That night you confessed that you had missed him, that your son had as well, and Jesse confessed that he had missed the two of you too.

That night was the night that Jesse finally kissed you, finally feeling that you had become comfortable enough around him, that you returned his feelings and didn’t think you owed him anything for his help. And you had returned the kiss instantly, glad that he finally made the move.

Jesse had already proven to be the best partner you had ever had, the best father figure that your son had ever had, and he seemed to want to be those things. You truly believed that the three of you could make this work, that this could be good for all three of you.

You had fallen hard for Jesse and as he pulled you closer to him on the couch, deepening the kiss, you were sure that you had never felt this way about somebody before.

#jesse cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #chromeskull #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher

448 notes · View notes

mane--attraction · 3 years

Text

(Rating: M

Word count: 1318)

You peer around the corner into the office, and there he is, just as you thought. Dark wasn’t usually one to take a break when he started working.

And that was the problem.

You were...more worked up than usual. Not for any reason in particular, your body just decided to be a bitch today, and you haven’t been able to focus on much of anything. And not only that, but you’re not supposed to take matters into your own hands—literally. Not that it would compare, but it would be something. You got impatient, so you threw on something a bit revealing for the top and one of your shorter skirts for the bottom. Unusual circumstances call for an (in)appropriate outfit.

So that’s why you were here, seeking out the one person who’d be able to solve this, even though you also don’t want to distract him from his work and bother him. After all, you technically should be able to wait. And it’s not like you actually have a real plan beyond just going in there and propping yourself against his desk.

You take a deep breath.

You try and act nonchalant as you practically saunter and approach the corner of his desk, leaning against it...maybe getting a bit too close to it... “Whatcha working on?”

Dark glances up at you, taking in your outfit. “Figuring out how to cover for Wil’s ‘schemes,’ while also planning on what to do next.”

You shimmy a little closer, acting as if you’re reading the papers there. “Ah, so the usual?”

The look in his eyes makes you a little nervous, the way it feels like he’s examining you. You can’t let the jig be up that quickly; you convince yourself he's looking at you like this because of your outfit, not your behavior. “Yes, the usual.”

“Cool, cool.” Right there. Seems like just the right spot. Your hips wiggle slightly and your fingers flex while your eyes flutter almost unnoticeably. “Anything I can help with?”

That expression hasn’t left his eyes, but now that you’re right where you want to be, you’ve almost stopped caring that he probably knows what you’re doing. “No, I’m afraid not. Dealing with Wilford’s aftermath is a lot more difficult than you may think, and I have yet to figure out the logistics of the next plan.”

“Mind if I read them, anyway?”

“Only if you plan to not lean over my desk the entire time.”

There’s an undercurrent of something dangerous in that, as if he’s probing, but you pretty much either completely miss it or ignore it so you don’t lose your nerve. “Oh, j-just a little bit. Not long.” You turn one of the papers towards you before he can protest. In all honesty, you aren’t quite paying attention to what’s on there. You hope that your fidgeting looks like a normal amount.

You wait until a reasonable time has passed and pass the paper back to him. He hasn’t gone back to his own work; you could feel his eyes on you while you pretended to read. “There ya go. You’re right, that’s a bit above my level of expertise.”

“You could always bring a couple over to the sofa.”

“N-nah, it’s fine, don’t gotta.” You’re starting to wonder if you should have done this, come over here and loiter when you’re this needy and not thinking straight. "I could always just—" You impulsively move to the corner next to him. You can't get as close to the desk as before, but it's enough friction. Plus, even just little brushes from his elbow against your arm would be sufficient for now. "Tada. Now I can read properly. No more looming."

You don't like the silence that follows. It's scrutinizing, and every second that passes feels like you're getting picked apart. "Are you sure that reading is what you're meaning to do?"

Fuck. "Y-yeah? They're here, might as well, keep me in the loop."

"I see. Wouldn't the couch be more comfortable, then?"

Well, yeah, but not for your purposes… You laugh, but it's a bit forced. "I-if you want me to leave you alone, I can go, it's not a problem, honestly—"

"You've been acting strange ever since you stepped foot in my office. Is something the matter?"

Your heartbeat immediately kicks up. You really should have thought of a plan beyond using his desk this way, because you can't bounce back from this questioning. You just have to retreat. You move away a little too quickly. “I really should just leave you alone—”

“Come here, Pet.”

You stop and hesitate. “I-I don’t wanna distract—”

Dark raises an eyebrow. “It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?” He points to the space next to him on the opposite side of where you were. “Come here.”

It’s not like you have an actual reason to disobey, so you nervously make your way over. He doesn’t stand as he gently turns you by your hips so you’re facing the desk, and your shiver is definitely not from cold. You find your back arching a bit, and you quickly straighten up and hold onto the desk.

Dark rings the bell on your collar almost casually, repeating his question. “Something the matter, Kitten?”

This time, despite yourself, you reply, “N-no, Sir.”

“Then why did you come visit me?”

You don’t have an answer for that, and it takes you a few moments to think of one. “Just...seeing how things were going.”

“Hm. Were you, now.”

You gnaw at your lip. That tone is just...ugh. Your stance shifts as the silence drags on, legs widening slightly. His fingers brush against your inner thigh, and your breath hitches. He moves your skirt just enough out of the way to look...

You see his lips pull into a smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“Aw.” Dark slowly trails his finger down your spine. “Is my little kitten in heat?”

You freeze. You didn’t doubt he’d guess, but not that quickly instead of teasing it further out of you, and described like that? Why’s that hot— “I—”

“Wearing these clothes, bumping up against my furniture… Do you think I didn’t know what you were doing on the corners of my desk? That I couldn’t tell from the moment you approached, smelling so sweet?” He coos, his hand reaching your behind. “Poor little kitty. So needy, she couldn’t wait for Master.”

Shit. That’s driving you down— He squeezes gently, and the shuddering breath you pull betrays your state. You bite your lip so you won’t mewl.

“I’d have you warm me, but something tells me you’d be more than a bit distracting.” He tuts. “Seems my needy pet will need to make do with either my desk or my couch.”

You whine before you can stop yourself. “But Sir—”

“No complaining.” Dark’s voice leaves no room for debate, and honestly is not helping you. “I do have work to finish, after all. And you wouldn’t want to be punished at a time like this, would you?”

Your grip on the desk tightens, your voice squeaking. “N-no, Sir.”

“Good girl. Oh, and don’t make a mess, hm?” He chuckles. “Otherwise, I might have to make you wait longer for being naughty.”

“Wait”…? Wait— “H-how long will you be?”

Dark hums; you’re not sure if he’s actually thinking or faking it. “Could be half an hour, could be an hour. Could be two.”

Desperation rises. Two hours?! Surely he’s messing with you— His finger brushes against you, where you need him, and you gasp and roll back unthinkingly. He lightly swats your behind and growls quietly. “All you need to do is be a good girl and be ready for when I’m done.”

You pout and whine to yourself, and his hand retreats. “Yes, Sir…”

“Good kitten. Run along, now. Master has work to attend to.”

#d/s #lemonish #darkiplier x reader #female reader #afab reader #master/kitten #took the time to add in what i wanted compared to last night #still not the greatest but much better; im happier with it now #nsft #darkiplier

70 notes · View notes

aethersea · 3 years

Text

you know what, I never do these things, but actually I’ve decided I would like to get to know people better! I would like to partake of the mortifying ordeal! I would like to talk about myself for a bit!

ok for the next...let’s say five days I will answer any of these things that people tag me in, or any random personal questions you plop in my ask box. I don’t have an ask meme on hand but just....pick one you’ve seen recently, or make up questions of your own, and I’ll answer. (the answer might be ‘nope that’s private’ but I will answer.) (@ the anon who asked for book recs - I see you, I’ve been thinking of books all day, I’m going to give you SUCH a long answer, I hope you don’t regret your choices bc it WILL be full of gushing)

alright, let’s go!

🌻 Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @booksandchainmail

Last Song: I’m currently listening to “Falcon in the Dive” from the Scarlet Pimpernel musical on loop. I watched one or two Scarlet Pimpernel movies when I was just barely too young to fully get what was going on, and the story’s held an odd but deep-seated place in my heart ever since. A few years ago I found out there’s a musical and most of the songs are pretty stellar (go listen to “Madame Guillotine” if you like big ensemble broadway numbers, it’s a banger, the bit where he cries out for God has been running through my mind on and off for a few days now haha not like that’s topical or anything), so every once in a while I spend a few days listening to them a lot.

Sometime last year I read the actual book, and got super into the whole concept of the Scarlet Pimpernel for a while. I plotted out Pimpernel aus for several fandoms, I read the entire wikipedia article, and I went looking for bootlegs of the musical. I didn’t find one, but I did find a full radioplay-style recording of the script, complete with full musical numbers, and listened to it like a podcast.

Reader, I was so disappointed. The play adds some scenes, bc a lot of the dramatic tension of the novel comes from internal conflict and that doesn’t stage super well, and the very first scene of this play – a play written in the NINETIES – features our dashing hero rescuing some aristocrats from a French prison, and then saying to the person in the next cell, who begs for rescue but is not an aristocrat, “We have enough of your kind in England.”

Enough! of your KIND! What in the merry frickety HECK my dudes!! The book has some rather unfortunate™ takes but it is from 1905, it’s regrettable but sadly to be expected. This play is from 1997. It has NO excuse. This scene wasn’t even in the book! What! the heck!

I was so disheartened that I lost my excitement for the play, and a couple songs later I stopped listening. It occurred to me just a few days ago that you could actually stage that ironically, with the person in the cell giving the audience a “can you believe this” look, and then the rest of the play could feature assorted non-aristocratic ensemble members constantly looking at the audience like they’re on The Office. And hey, maybe that’s what they did, or something similar – maybe that was never meant to be taken as a cleanly heroic stance, and the play deals with it in a complex way. It’s possible. I wouldn’t know. Kinda doubt it though, based on song lyrics.

Favorite Color: red, probably

Last Movie: I watched that new lesbian christmas movie with my family for christmas, the one with kirsten stewart and the guy from schitt’s creek. it’s very sweet and good and kinda sad, and I really enjoyed it. it also incidentally has the best gay best friend trope in probably anything ever, bc it’s not a trope (I didn’t realize until several hours after watching that it technically fits), it’s just a guy who is the protagonist’s best friend, and they’re just all gay, and then when he Gives Relationship Advice as a gay best friend always does, it’s advice about how to deal with your partner’s hangups around coming out.

actually every part of the gay best friend trope becomes better when they’re just best friends who are both gay. the big dramatic gestures (in this case, driving some ungodly distance in the snow on no notice) go from “haha how kooky” to “queer man will do anything he needs to to rescue his queer friend from an isolating & potentially triggering situation”. the relationship advice isn’t “honey you deserve some self-respect, treat yourself”, it’s a deeply sincere reminder of the vulnerability that is shared across almost everyone’s queer experience, and look I could ramble about this for a long time before reaching a coherent point but I’m INTO IT, okay? I’m into it.

Last Show: you want me to remember what show I last finished???? impossible, cannot be done, it was a long time ago and the adhd has eaten everything that happened before last week. here, instead I’ll tell you about another movie I watched, late at night with my mom in cozy companionship just a couple days ago. it’s called Quigley Down Under and it’s about a cowboy who goes to Australia and kills a bunch of racists, 10/10 would watch again. it’s from 1990 but it feels much older, with the music choices and the cinematography of a 70s Western. the cowboy is great, honorable and fearless and kind, but the breakaway star of this movie for me is the woman who attaches herself to his side and refuses to leave. her name is Cora, and she’s crazy, in the sense that she’s not altogether tethered to reality, but this never for a second diminishes her agency. she’s fierce and clever and compassionate, and she basically never does anything she doesn’t want to in the whole movie. her arc is about overcoming trauma by taking charge of her own fear and facing it head-on, she is never belittled or dismissed by the narrative or the protagonist, and look she’s just so cool. I love her. she’s so vibrantly alive. her story could probably have been handled with a bit more nuance, but honestly for the 90s it’s pretty great. I’m no expert, but I found nothing objectionable in it, just a bit of heavy-handedness.

anyway the theme of the movie is that racism is evil and racists deserve to be shot, and this too could have been handled better (not a single aboriginal character speaks a single line of english in this movie), but it follows through on that message in every way, while still being a fun kinda campy cowboy movie. overall a very good time.

Currently Watching: started showing my sister Hilda the other day, and she’s liking it! I love that show, it’s so incredibly cute. can’t wait to see season 2

Currently Reading: lmao I wish. lately the brain has firmly rejected all attempts to read anything of any length. currently pending, bc I was halfway through them when my brain stalled out, are tano’s fic What Does Kill You Can Make You Stronger, Too, a Toby Daye book - I think it was The Brightest Fell, I got like half a chapter in and haven’t picked it up in over a month, the Locked Tomb series, and probably a few other things too. ooh! also a book called Making Sex by thomas laqueur, which is my fancy academic reading that I’ve been doing in short bursts for the past year or two when I feel fancy and academic. it’s about the development of the concept of biological sex and of gender in Western society, and it’s fascinating. has among other things introduced me to the idea that until quite recently, fathers were a matter of faith. the mother? yeah, you can watch the baby pop out, we all know who the mother is. but the father? how can you know? how can you really know? we have paternity tests these days, but for all of human history up until now, we've just had to take fatherhood on faith. (not to mention we didn’t even know what fathers were contributing to the production of a fetus. clearly it was something, since you can’t get pregnant without a penis getting involved, but we have literally not known what until the past few decades. and that is wild. it has colored ALL of human history, all of our conceptions of society and family and kinship and gender, all of it, and it hadn’t even occurred to me until it was spelled out for me in this book, and it’s just......wow.

Salty, sweet or savory: for christmas my sister and I made seven different types of cookie, most of them involving chocolate somehow.

Craving: no bc I ate so many cookies. unless sleep counts. or maybe pringles, it’s been many moons since last I had a potato chip and I miss them.

Coffee or Tea: no thank you

Tagging: @coloursisee, @krchy-tuna, @sam-j-squirrel, @xzienne, @mirandatam, @viciousmaukeries, @sepulchritude, @elidyce, and @navigatorsnorth bc it’s been a while since we’ve talked, and I’m super hyped that you’re married now. v happy for you!

#finx rambles #finx has friends on the internet #be sure to tag me if you do this so I can go read it!#also you don't have to yammer on as much as I do #I'm just Like This you know #hmm perhaps I should readmore this actually #hmmmmmmm #I think I will use the excuse that it is 6 am to not do that #on account of how surely there are not many people up #and anyway this isn't meant for reblogging; you will only have to deal with this post once

87 notes · View notes

themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

PG-13 NINJAGO REWRITE/UNIVERSE ALTERATIONS!

This is basically if the show was meant for a more teenaged and mature audience. I don't know how long this will be, but I'll just start with the characters first, because I can

Because he's my favorite, and I love him, Zane's first: Instead of being a robot, how about something more tragic? DECADES remotely close to the series beginning, Zane was in a very nice family. An adopted, blended family, but a nice family nonetheless. So, what happened? A storm? A fire? A natural disaster? Worse. A war. A raid made by the opposing side, more specifically. Zane protected his siblings and villagers from attackers, but was grabbed and lined up for execution. When they grabbed and injured an elderly man, Zane attacked the officer and punched him. A lot. Another officer muzzle bumped him off and beat him to death in front of his family. The ally side arrive and save everyone. Too bad they're too late to save Zane. All, but one. A scientist who's been reformed and is skilled in mechanics and artificial organs; synthetics. He's also lost his own son. He deserts into the woods with Zane and gets to work, replacing Zane's skin with a stretchy material close to what you find in the legs of old barbie dolls, where the legs and heads were soft, his hair with- well, wig hair, his bones and joints with metal and clock work, his normal eyes with porcelain doll eyes, and his heart with a core that keeps him running and alive. Think Tony Stark's arc reactor, but if it's removed, Zane has 15 minutes to put it back or else he'll die and stay dead. It took FOREVER, but Zane eventually awoke up. The doctor, fuck it, was so relieved and helped Zane sit up and get used to being alive again-and half metal, but let's focus on his motor skills first. He lived with this doctor for a VERY, VERY long time. For context, if we were to set this in 2021, Zane would have died in around 1923 and been brought back in 1944 and saw the doctor that worked on him die in 2010. He's OLD. Back on track, Zane learned all he does, reading, talking, cooking, and whatnot, until the master of ice pays a visit and spends the day with Zane, asking him who he is, how old he is, and how long he's been with the doctor. After his visit, and Wu's, the doctor starts to see Zane slowly realize what's happened to him, but also question where his family is. Turns out the war wasn't easily won because the doctor shows Zane a family in a graveyard, near where they live. HIS FAMILY. And his name is there too. After this, Zane is traumatized, refusing to eat, drink, sleep, and talk, even ignoring his companion in the form of the Falcon. When the doctor sees Zane shaking sporadically, and sees him drooling a lot, he realizes the toll this is all taking on his son, who breaks down emotionally and mentally in his arms.

"F-father?"

"Yes? What is it, Zane?"

"I'm supposed to be dead, right? The tombstone in the graveyard, I should be under it, right?"

Cue silence from the doctor.

"Do you love me?"

"More than life itself."

"And... you would do anything for me?"

"Anything. Why?"

"I want to die. I want you to destroy me!"

The doctor gasps and hugs Zane close.

"I can't! You're my son, Zane! I can't lose you!"

"Am I your son, or your prized possession built from scrap parts and a corpse?"

"Zane-"

"I had a sister!" Zane snaps. "A mother! A father! And three brothers and a cousin and an uncle! I died protecting them and here I am while they rest beneath the ground!"

"You're my son, Zane!" The doctor holds Zane's shoulders to steady him. "You're my son, and I do love you. You're all that I have now, son."

Zane, broken and miserable, apologizes to his father as he drives a screwdriver into his own head, forcing his father to catch him as he falls down.

When Zane comes to, he's resting in his bed and feels worse than ever, as in he's sad and guilty for going off on his father the way he did.

The doctor apologizes for not telling him sooner, admitting that Zane's recovery took so long that resurrecting his whole family would be impossible, even if he'd taught Zane how to do it, no one in his family had the same blood type and some were even allergic to the medicine used to keep Zane's body fresh.

When Zane feels a poke in his head and notices his foot twitches at random, he gets curious. "What are you working on now?"

"You've been having seizures recently. I want to make sure the small cables and wires in your brain are all set correctly, so I know none of them are causing it."

"I see."

"Can you say your name?"

"Zane."

"Can you spell it?"

Cue some focused humming as Zane struggles a little bit. "Z... A...I-"

"Wrong. Try again."

"Z... A..." Long pause. "N... E."

"Good."

"Can... Can you change things from your position? Effect my movements and mind?"

"I can try."

"Can you make me forget?"

The doctor tells Zane it would be better if he remembered his family, but Zane weeps as he admits he'll tey to destroy himself again, if he remembers his family; it's not just grief, it's also a huge amount of guilt over the fact that he's alive while his family is dead.

The doctor agrees and hides his memories of his family.

He also rigs the same wiring to his heart rate monitor; when he dies, Zane will leave and forget him, and the fact that he is supposed to be dead. He'll forget just about everything, except for his name, how to read, breathe, eat, and take care of himself.

AND THAT HAPPENS.

Zane wanders through the woods, mute and silent until some villagers take him in and give him shelter. It takes a village to raise a child, so the village pitches in. Some children try getting him to play with them, but he only stands and stares, even when a little girl tells him she thinks he's cute.

Wu finds him again, and takes him to the monastery, where Jay and Cole are.

They do not like Zane. He stands, he stares, and he barely pays attention to what they have to say, though he does stare at Wu a lot.

They also think he's creepy because, well... remember that one stance Arthur does in the movie Joker, where he stands holding himself between the door frames and looks really creepy? Zane does that. A lot. In the morning when they wake him up and at night when they're about to go to sleep.

They sort of got what was wrong when he had a seizure while cooking; Cole was talking and explaining why he and Jay were keeping their diatance from him, and then heard Zane fall and the pot OF BOILING SOUP tumble on top of him. He shouted for Wu amd Jay and held Zane until the seizure stopped and Zane just stared at him tiredly and almost like he was about to cry.

"Are you... okay, Zane?"

"... Co... Cole?"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"... I'm sorry. Dinner is... going to have to wait." Zane tries to stand, but Jay holds his shoulder.

"Dude, are you sure? We can just order takeout for the night, if you're not up for cooking."

"I'm... I'm fine... J... J..."

Jay holds Zane in front of him by the shoulders. "I'm Jay. Remember?" Zane repeats Jay's name and Jay and Cole help him to sit down at the table.

"Perhaps you should rest for the evening and allow one of your brothers to prepare dinner tonight?" Wu highly recommends as he holds a hand on Zane's shoulder, in case he has another seizure.

Zane reluctantly agrees and Jay and Cole order a pizza; Zane offered to pay, but they told him to sit the hell down.

Upon meetung Kai, Zane is back at square one, except he has Cole and Jay to keep him in check and to help Kai gor when he gets weirded out.

They all get scared when they hear and see Zane banging his head against the wall, like bending his back and head back and curling into the wall as hard as he can and when he had a really bad seizure while sleeping, but don't bring it up because he stares off into space and stops cooking.

YOU CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW THEY REACTED WHEN THEY ALL GOIND OIT ZANE HAS BEEN DEAD ALL THIS TIME!!!!!!!

Personality wise, Zane is still smart, funny on accident, and very brave with a sixth sense, he's just the most "ninja" out of all the ninja because he's surprisingly light on his feet and quiet as a shadow. When he meets someone new, he doesn't talk. At all. It's a trust thing, so he'll whisper to anyone he does trust to talk back to the new person.

Still the ice ninja, but Kai made the mistake of interrupting a staring contest between Zane and his mirror reflection by tapping on his shoulder.

Zane spun around to face him with terrifying speed, but Kai backed up and held his hands up.

"Sorry, Zane. I just... You're... really cold."

Zane checked his outfit, which was long sleeved.

"I don't know, maybe... take a bath to warm up? Eat a little more? Get sime sunshine?"

Their one sided conversation ended with Zane staring at him before patting Kai on the head, and trying to make his spiky ass hair stay down, and returning to the mirror.

I should note:

ZANE AND MIRRORS DO NOT MIX.

He hates them. They freak him out. It has nothing to do with memories, he just gets scares that there's another him in another bathroom in another monastery in another Ninjago in another world, where it's all the same, but backwards. Sort of doesn't get that all reflective surfaces like ceramic plates, cutlery, and anyhting else of the sort are just reflecting light.

He doesn't get movies or video games, either. The other three tried teaching him, but he quickly became the player they had to look out for, because he'd get lost exploring the game's map rather than actually playing, which he found boring. Usually he'll just sit back and watch them play, ever the passive observer.

His seizures are due to immense stress and his memories trying to come back, but the little feat of tinkering his father did keeps fighting back, so whenever he's cooking and reminded of the doctor that saves him, he has a seizure.

He can take a lot of damage, but he's not good with getting electrocuted; if he's hit, he's down and useless for fifteen minutes, at least. Remember that cinstricti that almost killed him and Cole? Zane was more annoyed at the snake and concerned for Cole's safety rather than his. AND THE SNAKE DIDN'T FEEL ZANE'S RIBS. AT ALL.

The area around the core that keeps Zane alive is made if a similar material as those squishy slime balls that you sqeeze and the slime spews out of the little holes in the net, but a little more durable. Now that I think about it, it's made of a sort of ooblek substance, but it's a different matieral than cornstarche added. I don't know what, but it's made to keep the core, and Zane, from getting hurt.

Zane actually hides from Nya during her first few months of joining the team. Again, nothing to do with memory, he just got freaked out because she got kidnapped by the skeleton army. She keeps her distance, too, giving him glances and smiles while he stares at her, and Jay even switched seats with Nya to try and help Zane warm up to her, as in he'd sit next to her. He did so and got Nya to talk about something that had been eating her up inside, leading to her hugging him and crying in his shoulder. Kai and Jay were extremely close to yelling at him until Nya pulled away and thanked Zane, because she needed to cry.

When they go off on him for what happened to the monastery, Zane has a mini seizure until he sees the falcon and leaves just as the seizure starts.

Cole and Jay know what to do with these seizures, but when Kai first saw Zane having one, he held Zane and shouted for help until Zane put a hand over Kai's mouth and rubbed his eyes with the other; "I hate when that happens."

For any TLDR people: Zane's basically a reanimated corpse running on robot energy who doesn't remember his past because he asked to not remember. He can talk, he just doesn't much because it's a trust thing. Cooking is his therapeutic thing, he sleeps fine, but he has a hard time going to sleep. Still has his sixth sense and ice powers, he's just more mute and out of tune with the others; guy killed in 1923 is in 2021. Great asset to the team, even though he's the guy they keep an eye on so he doesn't get to badly hurt.

I'll write more about the other ninja, this is just to show how mature this universe alteration is going to be

Oh, yeah, here's Cole's alterations. I didn't change too much of his character, but I hope you guys still like it😅

#ninjago #ninjago rewrite #universe alteration #war tw #character death tw #self annihilation tw #voluntary amnesia tw #seizure tw #angst and distress tw #ninjago zane

24 notes · View notes

maybecoolwords · 4 years

Text

Not Enough ..

Pairing: Erik Stevens x plus size!reader

Word count: 2 192

Summary: Owning a company and working for it is not easy, but with a special someone by your side, it can become bearable. But what if that special someone ends up making it harder than it already is ?

Warnings: A little bit of Angst and then more fluff.

A/N: Hey guys, ever since I started reading fanfic, I’d rarely find any fanfic where the reader is the ceo, and those are actually some of my favourites to read. I’ve always wanted to write a fic where the reader is a strong independent woman, not that those don’t exist I actually read plenty of them, and I got recently inspired by @jalapenobarnes ‘ amazing series Sweet Life, except that I wrote this one-shot for Erik Killmonger instead of Bucky Barnes. I hope you guys like this one, and I recommend you read Sweet Life because it’s honestly one of my favourites.

The light of your laptop in front of you just blended with the sunlight breaking through your curtains. It’s a normal office day, except, it wasn’t so normal..

You’re sitting on your office chair. A black large chair, matching perfectly with your black large desk. You sat there for the past 92 minutes, since eight A.M to be exact, just thinking. The sound of the clock on the left wall was the only noise in the room. Or rather.. office. Your eyes are lost and a little puffy from all the crying you did during the previous night. Your right hand over your mouth, picking at your lips, a bad habit you just can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you tried. After all, it only happens when you’re deep in thought or concerned about something. You sat there just staring aimlessly at your windows, thinking…

The sound of your phone machine sounded through the room, now adding much more noise to the previously slightly calm environment you isolated yourself in for the past 94 minutes.

You were calm at first, you knew exactly who it was. He always calls on the same exact time every day he wasn’t visiting you at the office, that’s why you asked your assistant months ago to always forward his calls to your machine, no exceptions. Simply because you miss him, even if you’ve seen him that same morning when he begged you over and over to just stay in bed and take the day off..

But today, he has been calling your own phone nonstop, but since you kept ignoring his calls, he decided to call your office. His actions of the night before were the exact reason you found yourself so unproductive and just tired this morning.. Tired of thinking of him, of trying to find a way to justify his choice of words. And especially tired of repeating that same exact scene over and over again …

You’re standing at the bar, with a fresh drink in your hand, just enjoying the classy tunes the string ensemble are playing, but also watching everyone at the event. You’ve always liked to see how everyone showed their fakest smiles just to hide their deep insecurities.

Your eyes suddenly land on the one man you really wanted to be standing next to. Except, he wasn’t alone. Erik was talking with a woman and a man, and it seems to be a casual conversation, possibly about work, since that’s what GALAs are secretly meant for.

You were starting to get really bored standing there alone. To be honest, you brought that on yourself after having dismissed any man who came looking for a hot date. Well who can blame you; you only have eyes on one man… The one who didn’t bother to come looking for you after having ditched you when you first stepped into the room.

After you finished your drink, you decided to go to him. The bright red strap dress you’re wearing hugs your curves perfectly, which ultimately attracts everyone you walk by, and the high slit on your left leg that reached your thigh was just the perfect amount of revealing you’re looking for (mind the cleavage, because your body is an artwork). The men who publicly act like they’re repulsed by having a woman battle in their field are secretly lusting over you, and that just added more to your confidence. And the women in that same field are constantly cheering for you to go on, reminding you that woman power is stronger.

Unfortunately, your lovely dress was also making it kind of hard for you to breath because of how tight it is, hence why you chose to stand during the remaining of this super important charity GALA your best friend decided to throw.

Once you reached your boyfriend.. Or was he really your boyfriend? You don’t know. Each time you try to bring that subject up, Erik just decides to play a little dirty (which you don’t mind) you just end up forgetting about the whole ordeal. Does he do it intentionally or not, you didn’t figure that out yet.

But once you reach Erik, he turns quietly around with a charming – only for work – smile on his lips. He turns fully around, but once his eyes land on you, his beautiful smile vanishes, and his hand quickly tugs yours off of his shoulder.

«Sweetheart, I was waiting for you for the past thirty minutes, where have you been?» You asked in a tone just loud enough for the old (well, not really old) couple and Erik to hear.

«Oh, do you two know each other?» Asked the older man before taking a sip of his drink.

«Well-

«No, not really-» Erik was quick to cut you off, which immediately set your eyes on him, just waiting to hear what he has to say. «-Our companies had a project together a year ago and that was it, strict professionally based acquaintance.» Added Erik whose attention is now solely focused on the older couple in front of you.

«Oh, well, that’s what these GALAs are made for isn’t it? » Started the older man again. «Just to know your work colleagues on a more personal level, right? » He said with a chuckle at the end.

Your eyes never left Erik, you’re so shocked by his words and his calm demeanour that you just couldn’t feel anything else, other than betrayal and… hurt. And he just stood there, sipping on his scotch and a smug grin tugging at his lips. His proud stance makes you sick; you just want to leave that room.

«Excuse-me. » You said after it suddenly got harder to breathe, and walked away. Once you reached the exit doors, you felt the first tear of the night go down your cheek. You took a left turn on the long corridors and you started running. You didn’t want to give any of those unworthy people the satisfaction of seeing you cry over whatever reason. So you kept running, ignoring the calls of your name coming from the same guy behind your sadness.

That was until you reached the limo you came in, and quickly got in with the help of your driver, sparing Erik a simple glance his way before the driver speeds away, just to show him how hurtful his words were – are.

«Darling? »

His smooth voice broke you out of the trance you were is for the past few minutes. During that time, Erik managed to come into your office without you noticing him. He stood at the corner of your desk. His phone in hand, still calling your office phone number for what could be the thousandth time. He then reaches for the annoying machine and shuts it up, making the room go back to it’s previous silence.

«Were you just not gonna answer the phone ?» Erik’s smooth voice could almost make you jump over to him and give him a heartfelt hug, but that was the key word - almost. « What if it someone important was calling ?»

«I’m not in the mood to answer any calls.» Your hoarse voice was proof enough of how tired you are this not-so-fine morning. Your thumb and middle finger were massaging the sides of your forehead for a while until you took them away to get a good look at Erik, but never once looking him in the eyes. You just watch him sigh and look down at his shoes in shame and disappointment, not in you, but in himself. You’ve always been good at reading him, even if he isn’t such an open book. As for him, he knows exactly why you’re so calm.

«Baby look-»

«Don’t call me that.» You cut him off before he could manage to get another word out. You said it so calmly and quietly that he almost couldn’t hear it. He’d say he’s surprised of your calm demeanour if he didn’t know he was the reason behind it, but he’s guilty, and he knows he is.

«Y/N, I said what I said last night for a good reason, just please hear me out.» He sighed, «I didn’t say anything about us being a thing because we’ve never had a proper discussion about it, and I just ...» Once he heard your giggle, realizing you’re not paying attention to what he was saying, he stopped himself. «Baby, come on.» He added.

«I think I finally figured out why you always love for us to sneak around.» You chuckled. Your eyes looking at his for the first time. You finally decided to get up and get closer to him. «Never sitting next to each other during press conferences, ditching me at every party we go to together, never once going on ANY date, unless of course consider sex in my house or yours a date; God knows I don’t.» You screamed at him.

Once you’re only inches away from him (and seconds away from punching him), you took a few breaths and headed towards your floor to ceiling glass windows. That beautiful view really does help calm you down.

You’ve never once raised your voice at him. Because you just aren’t that kind of a woman. You always liked to solve any problem you two faced in your relationship without resolving to screaming matches. But seeing you lose your cool behaviour for the first time proved how truly hurt you are, and it’s another stab in the heart for him.

«Look -», You said again still looking away, «- I know I’m not the kind of girl any guy would wanna show off to the world, and I get it, trust me. But knowing that you’re so ashamed of me that you wouldn’t admit just to knowing me.. That hurts.» Your voice broke at the end, and that’s when you felt your not so first tear of that morning, falling down your cheek. «No matter how successful I can get, my body still stands in my way to find love.» You added, and just when you reach your hand to wipe it away, Erik’s already beat you to it.

«Don’t you EVER say that again.» He said in a broken voice, showcasing a little of his own broken heart. He held your hand, and cupped your cheek using his other hand. «Baby please look at me.» He’s literally begging you at this point but he doesn’t care, his main and only concern right now is not to lose you over such a petty subject. He’s already beating himself up for making you cry, and worse, for making you feel so insecure about yourself. He just can’t tolerate the concept of you having these ridiculous thoughts about him being embarrassed of you or your relationship.

«Baby I’m so sorry for what I did last night, but I promise you that I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.» He started when you looked at him in the eyes for the first time today (and hopefully not last). With those watery doe eyes you have, and that cute little pout on your lips, he just couldn’t help falling in love with you even more. «Baby I know I’m a real asshole for what I said yesterday, and honestly, I don’t even deserve you allowing me to touch you right now... Sweetheart you’re the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me, and I don’t plan on losing you anytime soon. I did what I did last night because I didn’t want those entitled people to think that you’re so successful today because of me, I wanted them to know that you’re independent and capable on your own self darling. I don’t want them to mock you or even think of disrespecting you in anyway. I thought I was in some way protecting you from those monsters.»

Hearing those pet words come from him again gave you such a warm feeling. And honestly, his explanation did make sense to you. In his own way, he was protecting you and you’re happy and unbelievably grateful to have such a sweet person by your side. You finally let a little grin break on your face, and seeing you smile again made him smile too. In a genuine moment you just grabbed his face a landed a quick peck on his lips before you said : «I love you, so much.»

«I love you too, so much more.» He answered before grabbing your face back, in a desperate attempt to feel your lips on his again. His lips brushed yours, in the softest way possible, not at all rushed, going as fast or as slow as you allow him. You just wanted to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, before your assistant comes stumbling in. It was after a little while that you both had to pull away, out of breath.

“So, are you ready to go public, miss Y/L/N?” Asked Erik, still holding you tight in his arms.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Stevens.”

#Erik killmonger x Reader #black!reader #erik stevens x reader #plus size!reader #Erik Killmonger #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #ceo!reader #fluff #fanfic

204 notes · View notes

musette22 · 4 years

Text

Body Politics

Read on AO3

Paring: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Word count: 9.4k

Rating: E (so 18+ only please!)

A/N: Okaayyy! So it took a while, but I finally wrote the thing based on this prompt (which I unfortunately accidentally deleted, but I saved the prompt itself):"hello! I saw some pics of chris with various politicans for his new project and thought about a stucky/evanstan fic in which chris/steve wants to film a clip with a newly elected senator who turns out to be bucky/seb and chris/steve just can't deal with the hotness."

It’s… a bit longer than I intended it to be - surprise! As always, I’ve posted it to AO3 and I’d recommend reading it there because it really is quite long (that’s what she said). Hope you enjoy the filth 💖 N.B. I know you asked for Senator Sebastian, but it seemed to fit better with the story to make him a Representative instead! Hope that’s ok!

Body Politics

Chris has done dozens of these videos by now. In fact, he did two of them just this morning. He knows the drill, he knows what he’s doing, there’s really no reason to be nervous anymore. And yet, as per usual right before he’s going in, his anxiety is peaking, causing him to feel jittery and queasy, and like he’s suddenly forgotten everything he’s supposed to know about the American political system.

God, he’s going to make a massive fool of himself. What the fuck was he thinking? Should’ve just stayed in his lane, like plenty of people told him to. He sighs at his reflection in the mirror, splashing his face with cold water in the hope it will help him focus.

“Ready?” Mark asks him, as soon as he steps out into the hallway where Mark had been waiting for him.

“Absolutely,” Chris nods, all put on confidence and ease which he definitely isn’t feeling. “Let’s do this.”

Mark is well aware how bad Chris’s anxiety tends to get before this sort of thing, but he doesn’t comment. He knows Chris will be fine as soon as the cameras turn on and he can stop being Chris Evans, meatball and anxious mess, and start being Chris Evans, movie star and aspiring politician – or, as most people view him, real life Captain America. Chris doesn’t mind that image so much. He’s proud of what he’s done with the character and besides, Steve Rogers is a better man than he’ll ever be. Sometimes it’s a little frustrating when people seem to be more excited about meeting Cap than about what it is Chris is there to discuss with them – things that are important not only to him personally, but to the fate of the entire country. But on the flipside, his Cap persona has opened a lot of doors for him, and that makes the occasional flare of irritation more than worth it. Politicians and civil servants are just people too, after all. Well. Most of them.

Today, Chris is meeting with Democratic Representative Sebastian Stan. Stan is quite new on the Hill, and Chris was doubtful whether meeting with him would be worthwhile. But Mark had said he’d heard good things about the guy, plus he was willing to meet with them, so Chris had decided to give him a chance. Since it was all quite last minute, he hadn’t really had time to do much research on Stan and just read the notes that Mark had sent him earlier this morning.

Chris was impressed with the guy’s resume, and despite his usual nerves he was quite looking forward to speaking with him. It was undoubtedly going to be better than interviewing some stuffy old Republican. Again. Chris is well aware that he signed up for this whole bipartisan thing himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally get the urge to throw hands when he hears someone like Ted Cruz or Dan Crenshaw spout their conservative bullshit.

Chris walks into the office that’s set up like a small film set: two simple folding chairs set up on a worn rug in front of some antique, mahogany cabinets, giving the appearance of nonchalant sophistication. Next to the chairs are some studio lights and reflectors, and two cameras, one behind each chair.

Mark takes a seat on the far end of the room, there to observe and chime in if necessary, while Chris hikes up the knees of his dress pants before sits down on one of the folding chairs. He crosses his legs, tapping his pen against the papers resting on his knee while they wait for Representative Stan to arrive.

After a minute or two, the door behind Chris opens, and he gets up, ready to greet the Representative. He turns with a smile, which freezes on his face as he comes face to face with the guy he’s supposed to be interviewing.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

The thought flits through Chris’s mind, unbidden and very, very inappropriate, under the circumstances.

It’s true, though. Standing before him, wide smile on his face and his hand held out expectantly, is a man who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the kind of red carpet that Chris frequently finds himself on, too. Chris’s body moves on autopilot, greeting Stan and shaking his hand, while his brain produces nothing but static, helplessly stuck on a litany of holy shit he’s gorgeous what do I do what do I say.

Representative Stan is dressed in a perfectly tailored, aubergine suit, his chestnut hair slicked back in a way that could’ve seemed skeevy, but instead looks sleek and sophisticated. His steel-blue eyes are bright and intelligent, but there’s a glimmer of something almost mischievous in them, too – as if Stan knows something Chris doesn’t and he may choose to waylay him any minute. Stan’s jawline and cheekbones could cut glass, and his mouth… Chris has to make a conscious effort to look away from his mouth, or this could get really awkward really fast.

It’s only when both of them have taken place on their respective folding chairs and Gino, their camera guy, asks them if they’re good to go, that Chris’s brain decides to cooperate again. Not fully, but just enough to be able to focus on the questions he knows he needs to ask. He clears his throat and plasters on a smile, hoping fervently that he at least outwardly appeared like he knew what he was doing while he was inwardly busy having a melt down over a pretty boy.

He shakes himself. It isn’t just a pretty boy. Sebastian Stan is a United States Representative. One who is now looking at him expectantly from the chair opposite, ready to answer Chris’s questions about healthcare for all, gun control and gerrymandering.

Oh, Christ.

Stealing himself, Chris nods at Gino, signaling for him to turn on the cameras. He takes a deep breath, and starts.

“Representative Stan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for sitting down with us today and for agreeing to answer some of my questions.”

“Please, call me Sebastian,” Stan replies, smiling. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

Chris swallows, trying hard not to get stuck on the word pleasure or the way Sebastian’s slight New York drawl sounds coming from that beautiful mouth, and asks his first question. “Sebastian. Could you tell me, in sixty seconds, what your stance is on gun control?”

---

Representative Stan’s – Sebastian’s – answers are all incredibly thoughtful yet to the point, and with every reply Chris feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into a state of despair. He’s pretty and he shares Chris’s opinions on basically everything? This guy is trouble. Heaps of it.

When Chris asks question four, he almost falters when he thinks he catches Sebastian looking him up and down, gaze lingering for a moment on his hands and shoulders. But surely that’s just wishful thinking? Just in case, Chris quickly checks Sebastian’s left hand: no ring. When he meets Sebastian’s eyes again, the corner of his mouth ticks up into a hint of a smirk, as if he knows exactly what Chris was doing.

Immediately, Chris feels his cheeks heat up. Not for the first time in his adult life he’s grateful for the fact that his beard covers most of his face. He clears his throat again and sits up straighter, trying to appear as if he’s listening intently to Sebastian’s next reply instead of freaking out about the possibility that Sebastian might be interested back. Just the idea makes Chris feel too hot under the lights suddenly, his collar too tight around his neck.

He holds it together relatively well for the remainder of the interview, only tripping up and staring at Sebastian’s mouth as he talks maybe two or three times, and honestly, he kind of feels like he deserves some kind of medal for that. When his final question, regarding constituencies, has been answered, Chris represses the urge to sigh in relief. As soon as the cameras turn off, he reaches up to loosen his tie just a tad, needing to get some air.

And, lo and behold, Sebastian’s gaze tracks the movement, before settling on Chris’s mouth for just a moment. A thrill of excitement runs through Chris’s body, head to toe. Is he reading this right? Fuck, he hopes he’s reading this right.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” Chris says, standing up and watching Sebastian do the same. “This was all very interesting. It’ll be a valuable contribution to A Starting Point, I’m sure.”

“Not a problem,” Sebastian replies pleasantly. “It’s been very” – he pauses to lick his lips, not breaking eye contact – “enlightening.”

Oh, boy.

Chris holds out his hand again and Sebastian takes it. There’s no mistaking it now: the handshake lasts too long for it to be entirely professional and there is definitely more eye contact than necessary. Chris’s heart is beating in his throat by the time he finally pulls his hand back, daring to subtly let his fingers brush Sebastian’s wrist. He watches in satisfaction as Sebastian’s eyes darken a fraction, a spark of heat flashing through them before he smiles pleasantly again and turns around to thank Gino and Mark.

Chris internally slaps himself in the face. Jesus, this is such an inconvenient time and place to develop a crush on someone. Still, he already knows he’s helpless against Sebastian’s charm and he’ll probably spend the next few weeks or so pathetically (and unethically) watching the footage they just shot and daydreaming about all the things he wish he could’ve done to him. It’s just not fair for someone so smart and dedicated to also be this hot.

When Sebastian turns to him again, Chris valiantly pretends he’s not in the middle of a mental breakdown and gives him a smile.

“So, Chris,” Sebastian starts, pensively rubbing his chin. “Can I call you Chris?”

“Of course,” Chris hastens to assure him. “I’m just regular old Chris.” Regular old Chris? Pathetic.

“Okay then,” Sebastian replies, and his eyes are dancing. “Chris it is. So, I’m sure you’re busy, but I’d love to pick your brain on something. I wonder if you have a moment?”

Well, damn. Maybe Chris won’t just be daydreaming after all.

Chris nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Sure, yeah. No problem. You were my last interview for the day anyway, so I’ve got time.” He looks at Mark, who’s standing over by the doorway. “Are you okay going ahead without me? I’m not sure how long this will take so there’s not need to wait around for me, I guess.”

Mark, who, unlike Chris, is not an idiot, looks far too knowing. “Absolutely. You take your time, Chris. Do what needs to be done, and all that,” he grins. “I’m gonna head back to the hotel, got plenty of work to be catching up with. I’ll see you later.” Turning to Sebastian, Mark adds, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care. Be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replies, giving Mark a playful wink.

Mark turns to smirk at Chris one more time before he grabs his briefcase and heads out the door behind Gino and his assistant, leaving Chris and Sebastian by themselves. The sudden silence is a little stifling, and Chris is the first to break it.

“So…” he says, like an idiot.

Sebastian inclines his head with a smile. “So,” he replies, looking back up at Chris from under his eyelashes. “My office is a little further down the hall, if you want to follow me. It’s not much, but at least it offers better seating than a couple of folding chairs.”

Chris laughs, a little louder than the comment warrants, but he’s nervous, okay? He’s not sure where this afternoon will take him, but he sure hopes he’s not reading this wrong and Sebastian isn’t going to break out some official documents for them to discuss the moment they step into his office.

Sebastian leads the way through a maze of corridors, occasionally raising a hand in greeting while Chris tries to keep his head down. He doesn’t mind being recognized or stopped, usually, but he’d rather not have to chat to some random stranger while he’s on his way to what is potentially a really hot and really inappropriate hookup. He gets a few looks, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Sebastian’s back, and fortunately it isn’t long before Sebastian opens a door on the left hand of the corridor, gesturing Chris inside.

It’s just a normal Capitol Hill office; not too big, all white walls and dark wooden furniture that’s seen better days but that still does the trick. The window looks out onto a lawn, high enough up to ensure no one is able to see inside when they look up on their lunchbreak walk. Sebastian’s desk is littered with papers, most of them organized into neat piles and held down by paperweights. A man after Chris’s own heart.

The door closes behind them with an audible click, and Chris stills. His instincts tell him to fill the silence with mindless chatter, but he knows he’s likely to say something embarrassing that could well end up jeopardizing this whole rendezvous. So he bites his tongue, and waits for Sebastian to speak first.

Sebastian takes his sweet time – whether because he doesn’t know what to say either or to rile him up, Chris isn’t sure.

“Take a seat,” he says eventually, gesturing to the sturdy, armless chair in the middle of the room, about two yards between it and the wooden desk near the window. Chris, starting to wonder if this is going to be just business after all, does as he’s told, expecting Sebastian to take place behind his desk.

Sebastian doesn’t. Instead, he perches on the edge of his desk, one foot on the ground and crossing his wrists on his left knee. Chris is having flashbacks to being called into the principal’s office, only much, much better.

“I really do admire your initiative and ambitions with this website,” Sebastian says, sounding genuine. “It’s always a risk for someone from the entertainment industry to venture into politics and usually I’d say it’s not a great idea.” He pauses, and Chris fights the urge to squirm in his seat. “But then, usually,” Sebastian continues, “people are after some kind of power or influence, whereas you’re concerned with making sure people are informed enough to vote, and vote wisely. I think that’s a very admirable aspiration.”

Chris sends Sebastian a grateful smile. “Thank you. A lot of people think I’m just sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong and I should stick to acting, but I care deeply about these issues. My career has afforded me a platform, an opportunity to make my voice heard, and I can’t not use that opportunity to try and make a difference.”

“That’s exactly it,” Sebastian agrees. “Sure, you’ve got a famous face and name, but you’re not taking advantage of it. You’re using it to do some good. And, um –” He pauses, biting his lower lip around a smile and tilting his head a little to the left, before finishing, “Well, let’s just say I think that’s very sexy of you.”

Chris barks out a surprised laugh. “Glad to hear it, Rep- Sebastian,” he corrects himself. Gathering his courage, he deliberately, slowly lets his gaze sweep Sebastian’s form, head to toe and back again. “And as it happens,” he goes on, deciding to throw caution to the wind and just go for it, “I think you’ve got many excellent qualities yourself.”

A slow smile spreads over Sebastian’s handsome face, lighting up his features and momentarily stealing Chris’s breath away.

“That so?” Sebastian looks down at the floor for a moment, then looks back up at him through his eyelashes – to devastating effect. Chris is pretty sure he lets out a quiet gasp, his heart tripping over itself in his chest.

Jesus Christ, where is his cool when he needs it? Or his game, for that matter.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sebastian continues, head still cocked and fixing Chris with his gaze. “You’re not at all how I was expecting you to be.”

“How were you expecting me to be?”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian gives him a considering look. “Less down to earth, less likeable, more Hollywood?”

Chris huffs a laugh. “Yeah, people usually tell me I’m a little disappointing in real life. Shorter than they were expecting, not as muscly, etcetera etcetera.”

Sebastian frowns, a little wrinkle appearing on his brow that Chris immediately wants to smooth out with his thumb.

“Oh no, I don’t think you’re disappointing at all. You’ve exceeded my expectations, if anything. I figured it probably took tons of make up to make you look as dashing as you do on screen, but if anything I think you’re more handsome in real life.” Gesturing at him, Sebastian clarifies, “The beard, the waist, the shoulders – it’s… quite something.”

“Oh,” Chris says intelligently. “Thank you.” He winces. “I mean-”

“You’re cute,” Sebastian interrupts, grinning.

“I –” Chris falters again, dropping his head into his hands. “Fuck, I swear I’m usually smoother than this.” He looks back up at Sebastian a little sheepishly. “You just kinda caught me off guard. I guess you surpassed my expectations, too. I wasn’t expecting a Representative too be quite so…”

“So?” Sebastian prompts, still watching him closely.

“Gorgeous,” Chris breathes.

This time, it’s Sebastian who sucks in a breath, his eyes widening just a little. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but Chris is watching him closely so he notices. Seems Sebastian isn’t quite as unaffected by all this as he first appeared. That knowledge makes something in Chris’s chest loosen, helps him regain his footing a little.

Keeping his eyes locked with Sebastian’s, Chris slowly uncrosses his legs, planting both his feet firmly on the ground. Sebastian’s eyes drop down to Chris’s lap before they flick up to his face again. His perfectly white, straight teeth – more Hollywood than Capitol Hill – sink into his plump bottom lip, right hand dropping to his waist to casually unfasten the button on his suit jacket.

For a few seconds, neither of them speaks or moves, the tension in the room almost palpable now. Chris suppresses a shiver when Sebastian slowly gets up and walks over to him with an air of a predator approaching its prey.

Unconsciously, Chris holds his breath, then lets it out again in a rush when Sebastian plants his hands on Chris’s shoulders and proceeds to straddle his thighs, sitting down squarely in Chris’s lap.

Chris makes a sound, somewhere between surprised and helplessly turned on, his hands flying up to rest on Sebastian’s waist. “Whoa, I- okay.” He swallows nervously.

“Okay?” Sebastian checks.

Chris nods, a little too quickly to be suave, but hey, this is kind of an unusual situation.

Sebastian relaxes infinitesimally, the only sign that he’s not quite as confident here as he appears to be. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes drifting over Chris’s features.

From up close, Chris can count Sebastian’s eyelashes, can see the hint of a stubble on his jawline. He’s intoxicating, and Chris doesn’t dare move an inch as he lets Sebastian study him. Finally, after he’s looked his fill, Sebastian’s gaze comes to rest on Chris’s mouth. His tongue, pink and wet, flicks out to wet his own lips, and Chris’s mouth starts to water. He aches with how much he wants to kiss that pretty, pouty mouth.

After a long, loaded moment, Sebastian leans in, his breath ghosting Chris’s lips for a second and making his heart race in anticipation, before he finally presses their mouths together.

The kiss is soft, lush, almost sweet. Chris holds his breath, his stomach flipping like he’s some kind of blushing virgin being kissed for the very first time.

Then, Sebastian makes a sound – a tiny, throaty noise that’s almost a moan but not quite, and something inside of Chris snaps. He groans, parting his lips and urging Sebastian to do the same, and then they’re kissing, hard and openmouthed. Chris slides one hand up Sebastian’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sebastian moans for real this time, hands smoothing over the fabric of Chris’s suit jacket, lingering on his shoulders and arms.

“Fuck,” Sebastian mutters against Chris’s mouth, squeezing his biceps. “So fucking hot.”

Chris is used to being called hot, of course. It’s inescapable in his profession. But coming from Sebastian, quite probably the sexiest man on God’s green earth, the words mean a lot more than they usually do. It emboldens him enough to wrap an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pull him closer against him, pressing their groins together briefly.

“Uh,” Sebastian hiccups, pulling back a fraction to look down at Chris. His pupils are blown already, lips reddened and spit slick, and Chris wants. He wants this man so much and he hardly even knows him.

“God, look at you,” Chris breathes, staring in something close to awe. “Pretty as a picture, sittin’ in my lap.”

Sebastian swallows, his eyelids fluttering at the compliment, and then he slowly and deliberately grinds down. Both of them groan at the friction, Chris’s own hips jerking upwards of their own accord, and Sebastian does it again, simultaneously leaning down to capture Chris’s lips in another kiss. Soon, they’ve found a sort of rhythm, their hips rolling in time with the slow, luxurious thrusts of their tongues into each other’s mouths. It’s intoxicating - the smell of Sebastian’s aftershave mingling with fresh sweat and arousal making Chris’s head swim.

Already, he’s uncomfortably hard inside his slacks, the need to rut, to seek relief, becoming almost unbearable the longer they spend slowly grinding together on that office chair.

“Sebastian.”

Sebastian hums, dragging his mouth over Chris’s cheeks before taking his earlobe between his teeth, worrying it gently. Chris makes a pitiful noise. He throws his head back automatically, inviting Sebastian to attack his exposed neck next. Licking along the tendons that stand out, Sebastian presses wet little kisses to his throat and jaw, too much and not enough at the same time. It’s like Sebastian has a map to all of Chris’s weak spots, like he’s trying to tick them off one by one until he reaches the spot marked X.

Just when Chris thinks he’s going to have to beg him for some relief, Sebastian pulls back, placing one more lush kiss on his lips before he climbs off Chris’s lap.

On instinct, Chris’s hands fly up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says, panting slightly. “Did I-“

But before he can finish his sentence, Sebastian has quickly taken off his suit jacket and thrown it carelessly to the side, sinking to his knees in front of him. He pushes open Chris’s legs with a hand on either knee, a question in his eyes as he looks up at him.

“I hope you’re alright with this, because I really wanna suck you off.”

Chris does absolutely not squeak. “Yeah, I’m – I’m alright with that.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian grins, feral and beautiful. Slowly, he runs his hands up Chris’s thighs until he reaches his belt, opening it quickly and efficiently. Chris lifts his hips a little so that Sebastian can pull down his slacks just enough to reveal the bulge of his erection, the tip, red and already wet, peaking out over the waistband. Sebastian let’s out a low whistle. He reaches up to press his palm to Chris’s dick through the fabric, squeezing lightly as if to get the measure of it.

Chris inhales sharply. Somehow, Sebastian looks even better from this angle than he had before, and he watches Sebastian’s every move with lidded eyes. “C’mon,” he murmurs, hoping he’s not overstepping.

Sebastian’s eyes snap up to his face, the look in his eyes is downright predatory. “You want it?” he asks, squeezing Chris again and licking his lips.

Chris can’t help but roll his eyes a little. “You know I do, Congressman.”

“Oh, that do it for you, huh?” Sebastian sounds amused, that cheeky twinkle appearing in his eyes again that gets Chris’s pulse racing.

“You do it for me,” Chris replies honestly, reaching down to card a hand through Sebastian’s hair. “I’ll admit it’s kind of hot that you’re in politics and have a lot of the same opinions as I do. But to be honest, if you’d been working at my local gardening center, I’d still have done a double take. You’re just really fucking gorgeous, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looks at him with big, round eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He swallows once, then licks his lips. Hoarsely, he asks, “How are you real?”

Before Chris has had a chance to reply, Sebastian is taking him out of his underwear, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, and taking him into his mouth. Chris groans loudly, his mind blanking out for a second at the exquisite feeling of Sebastian’s hot, wet mouth around his dick.

“Jesus, fuck.”

Sebastian pulls off for a moment, just long enough to mumble, “Language,” before he reapplies himself to his task.

Blinking through the haze of pleasure, Chris stares down at him. “Did you just..?”

Sebastian just moans around him, but his eyes are laughing. Chris can’t help it – he laughs too, out loud, the sound quickly turning into another moan when Sebastian takes him deeper still. He swallows him down, all the way into the back of his throat, making himself gag a little. Pulling back to gulp in a breath, Sebastian keeps his slick, red lips wrapped around the head, gently suckling while his hand grips him with the perfect amount of pressure as he strokes along Chris’s shaft.

Chris hopes he’s not overstepping when he brings his right hand to Sebastian’s head and slides his fingers in his thick, chestnut hair, tugging at it experimentally. If the sound Sebastian makes is anything to go by, he’s more than alright with that development. Chris curls his fingers, messing up Sebastian’s perfectly styled hair and reveling in the effect it has on him, the way it seems to make him sloppier, more desperate.

Sebastian lets him fall from his mouth for a moment to lap at his shaft, before mouthing at the base of it, burying his nose in the coarse hair there. Chris isn’t sure what it is about that particular gesture that hits him, but suddenly the urgency he feels intensifies threefold. He gives Sebastian’s hair an unsubtle tug, pulling him back down, and Sebastian happily lets himself be steered, taking Chris into his mouth once more and beginning to suck him off with renewed vigor.

Sebastian’s mouth is exquisite. Chris has never felt anything quite like it, and it’s not long before he’s a panting, delirious mess. “Oh god,” he breathes, “if you keep that up, I’m not gonna last long.”

Abruptly, Sebastian stops what he’s doing, looking up at him with slightly wild, dark eyes. A gossamer strand of saliva still connects his wet, reddened lips to Chris’s cock.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The words ring out loud and clear in the otherwise silent room, and Chris blows out a quick, steadying breath. He strokes Sebastian’s cheek, thumb trailing over his slightly puffy lower lip.

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Chris says regretfully. “No idea. But I wasn’t exactly anticipating this to happen today, if you know what I mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes light up. A moment later, he’s getting to his feet and hurrying towards the built-in cabinet near the window. Chris watches in confusion as Sebastian produces a black, leather gym bag and rummages around in there for a second, reemerging with a triumphant sound.

“I’ve got stuff.” Sebastian sounds a little breathless as he holds up a packet of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

Chris grins, raising a single eyebrow.

“I’m a single, gay man,” Sebastian explains, rolling his eyes. “I do go out occasionally, you know. Plus I used to be a boy scout. Always be prepared, and all that.”

“Hey,” Chris says, holding up his hands. “I’m not judging.”

“You totally are,” Sebastian snorts. “You should stop that and fuck me instead. Deal?”

Oh, but Chris loves this. He loves the banter, the way the extreme sexual tension of just moments ago has shifted into something more lighthearted, though still undeniably charged. It’s been a while since he’s had anything more than a one night stand, and those typically leave little room for levity, in his experience. Usually, people are so preoccupied with the fact that they’re sleeping with Chris Evans, Captain America, and so desperate to please him, that it almost becomes a little off putting.

With Sebastian, there’s none of that. Yes, Sebastian’s clearly very attracted to him, but he doesn’t hesitate to crack a joke or make a smartass remark. Chris admires that kind of self-assuredness, that independence, if you will, while he also manages to make it clear how much he wants this.

How much he wants Chris. And the feeling, Chris thinks, as he slowly lets his eyes trail up and down Sebastian’s slightly disheveled form, his entirely mutual.

Purposely lowering his voice, Chris says, “Take off your shoes, socks and pants.”

A visible shiver runs through Sebastian at Chris’s commanding tone.

Chris smiles wolfishly. “That’s what I thought. Today please,” he adds when Sebastian doesn’t move immediately, just stands there like he’s frozen.

Sebastian jerks into action, going over to the desk where he puts down the supplies before turning back to face Chris. Slowly, he starts to toe off his shoes, which he kicks aside, followed by his socks. Chris watches intently as Sebastian’s hands drop to the buttons on his slacks, unbuttoning them one by one before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them down, past the modest swell of his ass. They fall to the floor and he steps out of them easily. Chris’s eyes glue themselves to the bulge in his dark grey briefs, where a wet spot has formed at the front. Next, he lets his gaze trail over Sebastian’s long legs, elegant and yet with firm, muscled thighs that Chris would love to feel wrapped around his waist one day. Or his head. He’s not picky.

Sebastian just stands there, letting himself be looked at, seemingly savoring the attention. Finally, he reaches up to loosen his tie, deftly pulling it off and dropping it. He starts unbuttoning his dress shirt, next, but Chris stops him after he’s opened the last one.

“That’s enough.” He goes to sit up a little straighter in his chair and beckons Sebastian closer. “Come here.”

Obeying beautifully, Sebastian walks over to him, but not before snatching the condoms and lube off the desk. He comes to stand in front of him, holding Chris’s eyes and waiting for further instructions.

“Take off your briefs.”

Sebastian lets out a shaky breath. Slowly, he slides his underwear down his legs and steps out of them. His dick isn’t too large, but it’s pretty, and makes Chris’s mouth water instantly. Reaching out, he puts his hands on Sebastian’s hips. He darts a quick glance up to his face to check if this is okay, when Sebastian just bites his lip as he looks down at him with a heated look in his slate grey eyes, Chris lowers his mouth over Sebastian’s cock.

He lets out a pleased little hum at the taste of him on his tongue, swiping it around the head to lap up the precome that’s gathered at the tip. Sebastian moans beautifully, hands resting on Chris’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle.

“Chris,” he breathes, letting his head fall backwards. Chris looks up at him through his lashes, marveling at how pretty Sebastian looks even from this unflattering angle. He bobs his head and sucks him off with relish, taking him down over and over, until Sebastian’s thighs start to tremble.

“Please.”

Chris pulls off with a wet sound. “Please what?” he asks, voice even rougher than it was moments before.

“I need –” Sebastian whimpers, hips jerking, and Chris thinks he knows exactly what he needs.

He sits back against the back rest and pats his lap. Sebastian takes the hint immediately and climbs on, straddling his thighs. His flushed, leaking cock presses against the front of Chris’s dress shirt, sure to leave a stain, but Chris couldn’t care less. He’s got a lap full of mostly naked Sebastian; he does not feel particularly worried about dry cleaning right now.

Chris allows himself a moment to take Sebastian in. With his flushed cheeks, and dark eyes, glossy with arousal, he’s breathtaking. His hair is mussed and his toned, tanned torso visible through the gap in his opened dress shirt. His cock is hard and flushed, the base surrounded by neatly trimmed pubic hair. Sebastian’s been biting his lips, it seems, because they look extra red – a little raw from the way his teeth have been worrying at them while Chris sucked him off. Needing to taste them more than he’s needed anything in a while, Chris leans in, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s waist and pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss. He runs a hand along Sebastian’s long legs, which are remarkably smooth, like the rest of him. Sebastian balances a line between strong and elegant, and Chris is mesmerized by it.

“God, you’re stunning,” Chris rumbles, trailing a hand from the hollow of Sebastian’s neck all the way down his chest, abs, and then bypassing his cock to slide around to his backside. He grabs a handful of that small but perfectly formed ass and kneads it. Sebastian’s breath hitches, and Chris splays his hand over Sebastian’s tailbone before he deliberately dips his middle finger between his cheeks. When the tip of it brushes Sebastian’s smooth, tight hole, Sebastian gasps, his pupils dilating impossibly further until there’s barely anything left of the beautiful ocean blue of his irises. Their gazes lock while Chris gently teases at Sebastian’s hole with his finger, rubbing little circles there that don’t do a thing yet to loosen him up but that have Sebastian squirming in his lap nonetheless.

It takes approximately a minute of this before Sebastian breaks, whining in the back of his throat in a way that Chris is pretty sure is unintentional.

“What is it, baby?” The endearment is out before Chris can check himself, but the way Sebastian shivers against him shows he doesn’t exactly seem to mind it. “You need something?”

“Yes,” Sebastian breathes.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want your fingers in me,” Sebastian answers instantly, though the way his voice trembles tells Chris it’s harder for him to say it than he’s trying to make it appear. “Please.”

“Anything you need, baby,” Chris assures him, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He takes the lube from Sebastian’s clenched fist, popping open the lid and reluctantly drawing his hand back from Sebastian’s ass to coat his fingers in the stuff. They’re back a moment later though, slick fingers rubbing over Sebastian’s hole with intent, before he starts to work the tip of his forefinger slowly inside. Sebastian sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Chris slowly slides his finger in deeper, his mind bombarding him with signals of hot, tight, wet that go straight to his already rock-hard cock.

He can’t wait to be inside Sebastian, but first, he needs to make sure he does a thorough job opening him up. The last thing Chris wants to do is hurt him. In fact, he’s already ready to fight anyone who ever hurt Sebastian in the past or is planning to in the future, and he’s rather not have to kick his own ass.

“More,” Sebastian demands. His tongue darts out to lick his own lips, and Chris’s cock twitches at the sight. Lining up a second finger next to the first, he slowly presses it in as well, carefully stretching Sebastian’s tight entrance, readying it for his cock. Just that thought alone is enough to make Chris’s brain short-circuit for a second. Sebastian rests his forehead against Chris’s, his breathing picking up, but it doesn’t sound like he’s uncomfortable. So Chris doesn’t stop, instead slightly spreading his fingers to gently pry him open further.

“You’ve got – big fingers,” Sebastian pants, rocking back on them just a little.

“Sorry,” Chris says guiltily.

“No – ah. That’s, that’s really not a bad thing.”

Chris smirks. “I see. You want more?”

“Yes, please,” Sebastian breathes, the last word fading into a moan when Chris adds a third finger to the first two.

“There’s a good boy,” Chris says, kissing Sebastian’s cheek almost sweetly. “Asking for it so nicely.”

Sebastian sighs contently, melting a little further against him. Slowly, Chris starts to slide his fingers in and out while Sebastian’s fingers dig hard into Chris’s biceps. Since Chris knows sometimes the discomfort of the initial stretch can cause an erection to flag, he brings his left hand to Sebastian’s cock to stroke it tightly, just until Sebastian’s eyelids start fluttering from pleasure instead of tension.

Chris keeps him on the edge for a while, aware that he’s probably done enough to prepare him, but unable to stop staring at Sebastian, where he’s open and wanton and beautiful in his lap. It’s only when Sebastian whimpers and buries his face in Chris’s neck, breath hot and moist on his skin, that Chris remembers he’s working towards something here.

“Shhh,” he coos, rubbing Sebastian’s smooth back with his free hand. “It’s alright. I’m gonna give you what you need, okay?”

Sebastian nods shakily, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Chris’s throat.

“Please,” he pleads, somewhere between sweetly and desperately, and Chris’s heart does a funny thing inside his chest. He has to kiss Sebastian again then, deep and slow and consuming, swallowing his beautiful moans as he crooks his fingers inside of him to makes him cry out softly into his mouth.

Finally, Chris makes himself pull back, pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the bottom of his own shirt.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little unmoored and shaky himself. “Alright, stand up for me, honey.”

Sebastian does, climbing off Chris’s lap, and standing there on slightly unsteady legs, like a baby deer, waiting to be told what to do next.

“Take off the shirt and bend over the desk.”

It’s an order, but Chris watches Sebastian’s face carefully so see his reaction, ready to propose something else if he isn’t comfortable with this. He needn’t have worried. Sebastian instantly turns around, all but ripping off his shirt and then pushing aside some of the papers on his desk before bending over it. He keeps his legs straight, making his ass stick up in the air a bit as he presents himself for Chris’s hungry gaze.

For a moment, Chris can’t believe his luck. He came here today with a purpose; to work on his project, his brain child that he cares about a lot, and it had gone well, and that was all Chris has hoped for from today. To find himself in this position now, with the most attractive man he’s ever seen laid out before him like some sort of fata morgana, patiently waiting for Chris to fuck him stupid, that’s something he could never have anticipated. It’s better than anything he could have dreamed up.

“Jesus,” he says out loud, too caught up in his feelings to have much of a brain to mouth filter left. “I can’t believe I got this lucky. Look at you.”

“Chris,” Sebastian says, sounding a little impatient now. Which makes sense, considering he’s naked in his office on Capitol Hill, draped over his own desk, while some actor guy with his pants open watches him from a chair.

Chris shakes himself and finally gets up. Taking off his suit jacket, he drapes it over the back of the chair, and calmly turns around. He walks closer but still doesn’t touch Sebastian, just stops a few feet away. Something tells him that despite Sebastian’s impatience, he probably quite likes being on display like this. Feeling bold, Chris decides to take it a step further and test him a little.

“Show me,” he says.

Sebastian goes still. “What?”

“You heard me,” Chris repeats calmly. “Show me.”

Chris thinks he hears Sebastian murmur a curse, but then he lifts his arms and brings them to his ass, grabbing his cheeks and parting them, spreading himself open for Chris’s inspection. Chris can’t help the soft groan that escapes him at the sight. Reaching out, he smooths his palm over Sebastian’s lower back, then over the curve at the top of his ass, thumbing him open a little bit further.

“Fuck, that’s pretty.”

And it is. Sebastian’s pink hole is wet and slightly relaxed with how long Chris just spent fingering him. It makes Chris’s mouth water. He briefly entertains the thought of eating him out, but then Sebastian makes another impatient noise, wiggling his ass a little.

“Come on,” he pleads. “Do it, Chris. Just- please.”

A new wave of arousal washes through him, fast and strong, making him feel a little lightheaded.

“Okay, yes, I’m – Fuck. Just one second.” Chris doubles back for the lube, then grabs a condom and prepares himself as quickly as he can with his shaky, fumbling fingers. He positions himself behind Sebastian, his clothed thighs pressing into the back of Sebastian’s bare ones. With his left hand, he grips Sebastian’s hip as the other lines up his cock, resting the tip against his entrance.

“Please,” Sebastian repeats, sounding more desperate than ever, and then Chris is pushing forward, slowly sliding into the warm, welcoming heat of Sebastian’s body.

He grits his teeth to stop himself from moaning too loudly. Despite the thorough preparation, Chris’s brain whites out for a minute at how tight Sebastian feels around him because of his muscles clenching instinctively at the intrusion. Sebastian is making aborted little noises that could be pleasure or pain, and once Chris’s brain comes back online enough to register them, he leans down over Sebastian’s back to press a kiss to his spine as he fully bottoms out. He stays there for a moment, trying to keep his breathing even and kissing up on Sebastian some more in an attempt to distract or comfort him, whatever it is he needs.

But it must not be as bad as Chris thought, because it’s only a couple of seconds before Sebastian starts to push back against him.

“I’m good,” he says hoarsely, “you can move now.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris sighs. He pushes himself back up to his full height and draws out a few inches, groaning at the drag of Sebastian’s inner walls around his cock before pushing back in. He means to go slow, to let Sebastian adjust, but it feels so good that he can’t help but slide in deep and stay there for a moment, drawing tight little circles with his hips that have Sebastian shuddering below him.

Unable to help himself, Chris pulls back and snaps his hips forward again forcefully, burying himself deeper into Sebastian’s welcoming heat. Judging by the sound Sebastian lets out, he does not mind. In fact, as Chris starts pumping his hips and driving into Sebastian over and over again, Sebastian starts to become louder and louder, moans and curses falling freely from his lips.

Chris adores every single sound Sebastian makes as he lays into him, but part of him is still conscious of the fact that they’re at Sebastian’s place of work. The door may be locked – at least, he hopes it is – but he doubts the room is soundproof, and he’d never forgive himself if their little tryst ended up jeopardizing Sebastian’s job or reputation in any way. Since Sebastian doesn’t respond to Chris’s pleas to keep it down, Chris doesn’t see any other option than to bend forward and put his hand over Sebastian’s mouth, muffling his cries.

“I’m sorry,” he says, genuinely regretful. “If we’d been somewhere private I’d’ve let you be as loud as you want, sweetheart. But this is your office. We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”

Sebastian moans in a way that Chris thinks could mean that he in fact does want everyone to hear them, but while that may be true in the moment, Chris is pretty sure Sebastian would regret it hugely after everything was said and done and the whole wing knew of their sexcapades. So he keeps his hand where it is, even if it impedes his freedom of movement a bit.

When he feels Sebastian lick at his palm, Chris’s first thought is he’s just being a brat, but when he does it again, Chris takes the hint. He takes his hand off Sebastian’s mouth and puts his fingers to his lips. Sebastian immediately takes them into his mouth, lips closing around them as he suckles them like he’d sucked on Chris’s dick before, making content little noises.

“Oh, baby,” Chris groans, rolling his hips again as he feeds Sebastian his cock and his fingers at the same time. “You just needed something to suck on, huh? Being fucked not enough for you? You wish you had my cock in your mouth, too?”

Sebastian whines around his fingers, and Chris rewards him with an extra forceful thrust that has Sebastian scrambling for purchase on the edges of his desk.

Just so he can draw this out as long as he can, Chris takes it down a notch, slowing until he’s just leisurely sliding in and out, making his strokes long and deep and getting Sebastian to sigh in pleasure below him. Part of Chris wishes he could just stop time right here, stay suspended in this moment in time forever, buried inside in the most stunning man he’s ever had. Not that he’s had all that many men. He’s definitely bisexual, but he tends to lean towards women a little bit more – at least, he thought he did.

Being here now, with Sebastian, he genuinely can’t imagine wanting anything else ever again. Which is… something to be examined closer when he’s not balls deep, perhaps. To stop his mind from overthinking, Chris changes their positions, pulling his fingers from Sebastian’s mouth and ignoring his protests. He pulls him upright by the shoulders, plastering his clothed chest to Sebastian’s naked back.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, lifting his hands to grab at the arm that Chris wraps around his chest.

Chris buries his face in Sebastian’s neck, dragging his lips and beard over the sensitive skin until Sebastian is squirming against him. Chris groans in Sebastian’s ear, tongue darting out to lick around the shell.

“You feel so good around me, sugar,” he praises, free hand dropping down to press Sebastian’s leaking erection against his belly. “You feeling good, too?”

Sebastian shudders against him, clearly torn between whether to press back or push forward into Chris’s hand. “Please, please, can I-”

Chris hums, shaking his head. “Sorry, honey. Not yet.” He slides his hand down from Sebastian’s clavicle to his pectoral, flicking experimentally at his left nipple with his thumb.

“No, no, unnghh,” Sebastian moans, letting his head fall back against Chris’s shoulders.

“Ohh,” Chris chuckles, charmed. “Sensitive, huh? How’s it feel when I touch ‘em? Feel good?” Not waiting for Sebastian’s reply, Chris takes the hard little nub between his thumb and forefinger and tweaks it lightly.

“Oh fuck,” Sebastian curses, jolting like he’s electrocuted, before panting, “Do that again.”

Chris doesn’t have it in him to deny Sebastian anything right now, so he repeats the movement and tries not to come on the spot from the way Sebastian’s ass tightens around him when he does. In his experience, most guys’ nipples aren’t all that sensitive, but from Sebastian’s reactions, is sure seems like he’s a nipple kinda guy. Which works out perfectly, because Chris is too. He’s already dying to suck on them sometime, scrape his beard over them, worry them between his teeth and find out how far he can work Sebastian up just from playing with his pretty nipples.

When Sebastian whimpers and sighs, yes, please, yes, Chris realizes he’s said all that out loud. And even though this might just be sex-drunk ramblings, Chris’s heart leaps at the implication that there might be a next time.

Keeping up a steady pace, Chris continues to fuck into Sebastian from behind while he rubs and pinches at his chest. He relishes the high-pitched noises that fall from Sebastian’s lips seemingly without conscious thought: he’s lost in it, just like Chris is lost in him, and it feels so fucking good.

Finally, when he feels the tell-tale tightening in his balls, Chris almost reluctantly pushes Sebastian away from him, down onto the table. He’s loath to let go of him, would much rather keep him close, but he’s conscious that he’s not hitting the spot in that position, and he wants to make this as good for Sebastian as he possibly can.

With a hand on his lower back, Chris presses Sebastian down as he starts to finally give it to him properly, pulling almost all the way out on every stroke before plunging back in. He chances a look down, mesmerized at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Sebastian’s hole, which hungrily draws him in over and over again. There’s something almost obscene about the fact that Chris is still fully clothed, just his dick out, while Sebastian is gloriously naked, unabashed and wanton, letting himself be taken.

“Oh Jesus,” Chris pants, crazy with it, his body feeling loose and too-tight at the same time. “You’re so fucking hot, you’ve got no idea. Driving outta my fucking mind, sweetheart, Christ.”

“Harder,” Sebastian pleads, trying to muffle his cries in his own forearm. “Fuck me harder, c’mon.”

A haze comes over Chris’s brain, the only thing he can see and feel being Sebastian and the buzz in his veins, the pleasure coiling in his gut, so close to release. He grabs Sebastian’s hips and pulls him back against him every time he fucks into him, and suddenly, Sebastian’s moans change. They become higher and breathier, littered with aborted curses, and Chris knows he’s hitting the spot.

“Like that, baby? You like it like that?” Chris doesn’t care that he probably sounds like a bad porno right now, his entire consciousness filled with the scent of arousal in the air and the slick, filthy sounds of their bodies joining mixed with obscene moans.

Sebastian isn’t much better, anyway, keeping up a near constant litany of Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, in time with his beautiful, naked body being shoved up and down the table with every forceful thrust of Chris’s hips.

“Oh god,” Sebastian gasps suddenly. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.”

“You’re – like this?” Chris asks incredulously. “You don’t need me to-?“

“I need you to keep going,” Sebastian groans. “Just like this, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Yes, sir,” Chris grits out. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he could stop now even if he wanted to. He’s so close.

Sebastian seems to finally have lost the capacity for speech altogether, the little breathless ah, ah, ah, sounds that Chris punches out of him the only thing he can manage.

“I’m guh-” Sebastian tries futilely, but he doesn’t get further than that.

“Now,” Chris orders, aiming another trust right into Sebastian’s prostate and grinding down on it, his hips flush with Sebastian’s ass. “Come for me, do it.”

And Sebastian does. He keens, body seizing up, clenching tightly around Chris’s cock. Chris’s hips stutter, wanting to keep thrusting, but it’s too much. Before Sebastian has even finished, Chris’s orgasm slams into him like a freight train. He comes with a long, drawn out moan, losing all sense of place or time as waves of pleasure wash over him, cock pulsing as he fills up the condom with his release.

Chris isn’t proud of it, but he more or less collapses onto Sebastian’s back when he starts to come down, his heaving, dress shirt-clad chest against Sebastian’s sweat-damp back. Chris presses his lips to Sebastian’s shoulder blade, panting against his skin as he catches his breath for a good few minutes.

Finally, his softening dick slips out, and Chris is forced to get up. “Give me one second,” he murmurs, looking around and spotting a box of tissues that’s fallen to the floor. He quickly removes and ties off the condom, wrapping it in a tissue and tossing it in the trashcan, along with the one he uses to clean himself. Next, he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up, before he grabs another hand full of tissues. He cleans Sebastian up carefully, mindful not to be too rough with his undoubtedly sensitive, softening cock.

“You okay?” Chris whispers, gently stroking the slight curve of Sebastian’s hip.

Sebastian just hums in reply, not showing any inclination to get up of his own accord. He seems pretty out of it, honestly, so Chris helps him up and then guides them both to sit down in the chair again. He pulls Sebastian into his lap, against his chest, the contrast between their states of dress even starker now than it was before. Somehow, Chris is a little moved by it, by how much Sebastian seems to trust him, even if he barely knows him. It makes him tighten his grip instinctively, murmuring praise and endearments into Sebastian’s hair as Sebastian’s head lolls back against Chris’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Sebastian starts to stir, blinking open his eyes and shivering a little. Chris pulls him closer still, rubbing his hands over Sebastian’s arms and legs in an attempt to warm him up a little.

“You with me again?” Chris asks quietly, lips brushing Sebastian’s ear.

Sebastian swallows, then gives a short nod. “Yeah.” His voice comes out thick, so he clears his throat. “I’m- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to let myself go quite so much.”

He sounds embarrassed, and Chris won’t stand for that.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He grabs Sebastian’s chin, turning his face so he can pull him into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, without much intent, and Sebastian hums into it. “You were perfect,” Chris praises as he pulls away. “You are perfect.”

Despite the fact that he’s been naked all this time, this is what makes Sebastian blush, and Chris watches the color appear in his cheeks with delight, chasing it with his lips and nuzzling Sebastian’s hot cheeks.

“You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself,” Sebastian breathes. He turns into Chris further, lifting a hand to run it first through Chris’s beard and then his hair, tugging him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, and Chris lets himself melt into it.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when you looked at me like that, earlier,” Sebastian confesses, speaking against Chris's lips. “Never woulda thought you’d have been into guys, let alone that you’d be like this.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he means by that, because Chris understands. He never thought Sebastian would’ve been like that, either.

Chris gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I’m bisexual, but I don’t flaunt it. ‘Cause, you know – Hollywood.”

Sebastian hums. “Yeah, I do know,” he says, before adding, “Capitol Hill,” by way of explanation.

A giggle bubbles up inside of Chris that he can’t quite stop in time.

When Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him in question, Chris blurts out, “We just fucked on Capitol Hill.”

Sebastian laughs, bright and happy, resting his forehead against Chris’s. “We sure did, sweetheart.”

He probably shouldn’t push his luck, but Chris has never been very good at keeping his feelings do himself. Before he can question it too much, he says, “So, I know it’s all backwards, but… I’d love to take you out for dinner. If – if you want.”

A sweet, fond smile spreads over Sebastian’s face. “Well, as it happens, I could really go for a burger and a beer, right about now.”

Chris groans, squeezing Sebastian’s waist. “If only you could be naked for the whole thing, and it would be perfect.”

Sebastian laughs. “Maybe on our second date. If you’re lucky.”

It Chris crosses his fingers behind Sebastian’s back, no one needs to know.

Read (and comment?) on AO3 - Thank you! ❤️

#my fic #evanstan #rpf #chris evans x sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan au #smut #politics #a starting point #ao3 #meet cute #my writing

172 notes · View notes

falseroar · 4 years

Text

Dog Days Part 4: Information Exchange

((Abe returns to his office to find a shady potential client waiting with an offer he can’t refuse.

Link to the previous part, Part 3: Slow Recovery.))

Abe made a detour by the parking lot to grab his bag out of the back of the beat-up car he called his own before walking into the office building, where there was no one waiting at the front desk. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen anyone behind the glass since he signed his lease, but that just meant fewer questions whenever he was back in town. Instead, he took the stairs up to his floor, only to stop when he spotted the man standing in the middle of the hallway.

Right next to the door to his office/as close as he got to home these days.

He played with the idea of turning around and just going back to his car, but there was always the chance he would just run into the guy on his way out. Abe took another long sip of his coffee before stepping out of the stairwell and walking straight toward the door, hoping that maybe the man was just hanging out and waiting for someone else.

A hope that quickly died when the man turned with a slightly off movement, his head turning and his body following with a slight delay to fix Abe with a cold stare behind black square frame glasses.

“Abe Lincoln,” the man said, more a declaration than a question.

“That’s what they call me,” Abe said. His keys were already in his free hand, but he found himself slowing as he approached. A voice in the back of his mind screamed that there was something off about the man, more than just his odd movements and smile that failed to match his eyes. While he couldn’t point out what it was immediately, Abe knew enough to trust his instincts and keep his distance. “And I’m not taking clients at the moment. I left a sign on the door, didn’t you see it?”

“This just says ‘Be back sooner or later.’”

Oh. In hind sight, he probably should have double checked which sign he put up before he left three months ago.

“Well, point is I’m still not here to take another case, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Abe said. “Maybe call ahead next time, make an appointment with my secretary if I ever get one. And if you’re here looking for money, then you can just get in line behind everyone else.”

The man turned in place to watch as Abe circled around him to get to the door, the hunter just as careful not to take his eyes off of the visitor. Abe was already weighing his options, considering whether a punch with the keys in his fist or a splash from what was left of his coffee would be enough to distract the stranger if push came to shove. He had more options stowed on his person and in his coat, but this close there wasn’t a lot of room for trial and error if he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

“While I am capable of waiting out here as long as necessary, perhaps the hunter might be willing to hear my employer’s offer first. He is willing to offer you far more than your usual rate, in return for your assistance in looking into a particular person of interest.”

“Don’t see why he would need a hunter for that,” Abe said, making a show of unlocking his door. This close, he realized that it wasn’t just the stilted way the man talked, the emphasis not quite falling on the right words. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, he realized that the man’s chest wasn’t moving, just as there was no sign of movement around his nose or mouth when he wasn’t actually speaking.

The stranger wasn’t breathing.

“Just who is your employer?” Abe asked, trying to sound casual as he pulled his bag off his shoulder and tossed it down just inside the office door, on top of the pile of late notices covering the floor. Leaning against the frame left the hand not holding the coffee cup out of sight and free to reach for the handle of his revolver. Bullets didn’t work against everything, but they sure helped slow down most things.

“He would prefer to remain anonymous in this situation—”

“Nope,” Abe said, already reaching for the door.

“Wait!” The stranger reached out to stop the door from shutting only for his whole body to stutter the second his hand tried to cross the threshold. Sparks arced between his fingers and raced up his arm before he yanked himself backwards. His whole head twitched to the side before he returned to his far too straight stance, and Abe was quick to notice the red light in the man’s brown eyes before it disappeared, although his scowl remained. “You have anti-magic wards.”

“Of course I do, what hunter worth his salt wouldn’t think of something that basic?” Abe scoffed. And those were far from the only protections he had in place, although he was pretty sure the handy sigils he carved into the interior of the door frame probably meant he wouldn’t be getting his deposit back on this place. Landlords generally didn’t recognize a good thing when they had it.

Magic, but the ward hadn’t stopped some kind of spell or curse, it had reacted like he was the magic. Not fae, the eyes would give it away. Maybe an inanimate object powered by magic? One shaped like a human, or else Abe would have seen through it when he tried to break the ward, but that didn’t explain the sparks. He could probably figure it out with a few more clues, or…

Screw it, Abe thought.

“What are you?”

The man paused before he answered, his words falling out quickly as though he couldn’t help answering, “I am a Google unit, a blend of technology and magic created to provide information and services to my employer. Among other things.”

Magitek? Abe had heard of it, but never anything like this. This Google thing looked human, or human enough if you could ignore the slightly stilted mannerisms and the whole not blinking once while they had been having this conversation thing.

“Guess that explain the ‘G’,” Abe muttered, gesturing to the vivid white letter on the unit’s red shirt. “Well you can provide your employer with the information that I said ‘no.’ Hell no, if you feel like it.”

“While it is typical of humans to be reluctant to deal with superior beings—”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. I seriously doubt the ‘superior’ thing, but I don’t care what you are. The point is, I don’t take work from anyone who won’t meet me in person, much less refuses to even give me a name. Believe it or not, I do have standards.”

The Google unit’s eyes moved from Abe’s face to stare pointedly at the darkened office behind him, the floor covered in late notices and clothes that didn’t make the cut to come along on his latest trip, filing cabinets crowded up against the paper-covered desk, and the multiple cork boards full of papers and photographs pinned and connected to each other by lengths of string, and that was just what could be seen from the office door.

“Clearly. That is why my employer requested that I bring this to you, hunter. He believes that this person may be involved in certain activities that could be a danger to others, including to someone of value to significant persons within the city. If he were to take these suspicions through official channels, there might be enough bias against the person of interest to prevent a real investigation from taking place.”

Abe had to take a second to work that out, but considering they were coming to him he thought he could take a guess. “This person you want me to look into isn’t human, and if enough rumors float around they could be in trouble whether it’s true or not.”

“Correct.”

Abe hesitated. He had taken enough cases like this before, but never one that sent up this many red flags at one time. There was clearly something shady going on here, and the last thing he needed was to get dragged into someone else’s mess when he had enough of his own to deal with.

As if sensing something else was needed, the Google unit added, “I have been given permission to tell you that an exchange of information is also on the table, should you choose to take this case.”

“What kind of information?”

“Information regarding one Wilford Warfstache, the most recent alias of the man formerly known as William J. Barnum.”

The floor could have opened out underneath Abe at that moment and he didn’t think he would have noticed the difference. Without realizing it, he had stepped back out into the hall, his hand wrapped tight in the collar of the unit’s red shirt as he pulled him closer.

“What do you know about him?” he growled, but the automaton’s expression did not change.

“All information about this person is stored in a file that I cannot access until given permission by my employer, which will not be granted until you provide your own information about our person of interest.” Google did not blink, and there was no trace of concern in his voice as he added, “If you attempt to damage this unit, the information can and will be deleted.”

Abe forced himself to let go of the unit’s shirt, but his hand just as quickly closed into a fist. “Why should I believe you know anything about him that I don’t?”

“I cannot provide that information until permission is granted. However, my employer thought you might be interested to learn that last night at approximately 12:37 AM, the local police received a report of strange lights and noises at the house formerly known as Markiplier Manor. By the time they arrived, there was no sign of any persons in the area,” Google answered, his gaze taking on the faraway stare that Abe was beginning to recognize as him recalling something from his memory.

Abe made a conscious effort to control his reaction to those words, to keep his breathing steady and his eyes as clear as he could, to not give in to the shudder that raced down his spine to meet the pit opening in his stomach.

“That could be anything,” he said. “Some kids messing around, frisky raccoons, you name it. Doesn’t mean it’s related to—to him.”

“I am also allowed to say that we have reason to believe that Wilford Warfstache has returned to the city,” Google said. “But as I cannot provide anything to verify this information until after you provide something in return, and you are clearly not interested—”

“Wait.”

Abe hated this, he hated not knowing what he was getting himself into, he hated not knowing who was behind this, hated that whoever it was clearly knew enough to get his interest and press his buttons, but more than anything he hated the idea of missing his chance to finally get his hands on the one monster that had evaded him all these years. If there was even a chance this thing could lead him to the Colonel, or whatever he was calling himself these days…

“Who does your employer want me to look into this bad?” Abe asked.

“Does this mean you’re taking the case?” Google asked in turn.

Just because he agreed, it didn’t mean he couldn’t do his own investigating on the side. And if this guy was as dangerous or as in danger as robot boy here claimed, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt Abe to look into him.

“Yeah, I’ll find out what you need to know. Just give me a name.”

The Google unit pulled an envelope out of his pocket and presented it to Abe, inside of which he found a downtown address, a photograph of the man in question, and a copy of a certificate verifying the person in question was registered with the city and the Bronson Institute.

“My employer wants you to obtain as much information as possible about any suspicious activities or relationships involving the vampire, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein.”

((End of Part 4. Thanks for reading!

Link to Part 5: Second Opinion.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #monster hunter au #wkm au #abe the detective #googleplier #traces of silver #poor abe #can't even get a break

14 notes · View notes

alchemicalterror · 4 years

Text

Self-implemented Parole

[ Below is a transcript of an RP between @askanarky and ol’ Jonny boy, involving Anarky’s breakout and aftermath. WIth special guest @riddlesandqueries and @echoandquery

Trigger warnings: Adolescent Homelessness, swearing. ]

Fuck. Shit. God dammit. Fuck, Lonnie swears to himself, couldn’t stay hidden for two days, could he?

Here he is, leaning against the wall of the dentist’s-office-turned-failed-comedy-club-turned-pirate-radio-station-slash-hideout he’d been spending the day at. Beside him’s a wooden baseball bat, blood-red paint dripping down the business end, three posters, and an overfilled olive drab backpack absolutely covered in patches and safety pins. In his hands, a box of old clothes and records.

Bitterly, Lonnie wonders how much weight he’d lost. Six and a half months was a lot longer- or maybe shorter?- than he’d fully realized.

God, why’s he even humoring the old man? Ten bucks and he could already be gone. He’d find another shitty landlord to blackmail for an equally shitty studio apartment, and life’d go on like he never left.

...But then again, that wasn’t him. And plus, he owes Jon a lot and did kinda call him ‘dad,' and plus, he couldn’t feasibly cut him out entirely unless he left Gotham for good, and why would he do that, he’s got work to continue-

”Fuck.” Lonnie mutters under his breath, shifting his weight to his other leg.

"Fuck." Jon mutters, pulling his coat in tighter. He doesn't know jack shit about hijacked radio towers, and while his car is an unremarkable, beat-up old junker that he's had for years - it runs fine, there's no noises or weird smells, but the body has seen better days - why run into a headache with traffic, gas mileage, potentially being seen at an intersection with a recently escaped convict...?

'Course, nothing could hide how tall he is. And god damn it, it's April, it's supposed to be warm....

Jonathan mutters against the cold in vague irritation, gravitating towards the next set of charity drop-off boxes in vain hopes of actually tracking down the runt. Jesus, he should've asked for directions. At least he's in good shape.

"Me an' my motherfuckin' ide--" Pause. Squint, at someone who fits the stature in a beat up black hoodie, with a box.

"....Kid?"

The good thing about oversized hoodies is that, if you’re drowning in them enough, it can almost conceal how high you jump when something calls an epithet that can apply to you. Immediately, Lonnie crouches to quickly, but gently place his box down and grab his baseball bat in his place, then raises himself up into half of a batter’s stance at the source of the-

Wait. Tall man, absolutely orange hair, in a thrift-store jacket and blue jeans. Of fucking course.

”Jesus Christ,” he half-mouths. He lets his stance relax and his arms hang limply down in an exaggerated 'I-don’t-wanna-be-here' stance. “‘Ay.” Lonnie’s stage voice is remarkable, if a bit higher than his normal growl.

Jonathan grins, a bit, despite himself. Baseball bat? Good lad.

He lifts a hand in a wave, chuckling. "Nice to see you ain't without means, boy." Jon murmurs, nodding at the weapon. "Half kickin' myself I didn't get directions when abouts I could, I been walking around back alleys all afternoon."

"Legs could use a break, and I saw a beaten-down dive up the block some, folks don't glance at your face even when you're ordering in places like that. You wanna coffee or somethin' before we ship out?"

“....” Lonnie turns away for half a second, letting a puff of air escape his clenched teeth. “Hey, you said you didn’t need them.”

Hypocritical, coming from him. He’s at least trying to be a little friendly, through the obvious voice crack and the constantly-correcting tone. “...Fine, I guess? I mean, I’ve got what...” He backs away and unzips the front pocket of the backpack on the ground. A cheap leather wallet spills out (along with six separate embroidered circle-As in various shades of crimson.) He unfolds it and squints between the pockets, “....twelve...? Dollars on me? That’s enough for, like, a sandwich.”

"Come off it kid, I got paid yesterday, you ain't gotta spend what little you got on a sandwich. Save it, s'good to have bus money." And with that Jon turns, and waves Lonnie follow him. Tall as he is, he's long ago adopted a sort of ambling gait to make it easier for other people to keep up with his long stride.

The diner is, as estimated, utterly apathetic to the arrival of both Jonathan and Lonnie, save for the motions of seating them both. No odd looks are given to Lonnie's box of things, nor -- if he brought it along -- his bat. He was half-heartedly offered the opportunity to drop it in the umbrella rack, if he wanted to.

Jon takes a booth with a high back, and turns his attention toward the menu.

Lonnie, in fact, does put his baseball bat in the umbrella rack (only in Gotham,) and swings himself up onto the booth, squishing himself into the corner and placing his box under the table. His backpack’s placed right beside him.

He’s already small- especially compared to Jonathan- but he seems determined to make himself even smaller. Lonnie hunches over the table and scrutinizes the menu with one exposed eye, rapping his free hand on the table. Jonathan receives the occasional upwards glance from him.

Coffee. And a sandwich. Jon picks both, mentally placing his order, and sets the menu down.

"...After we order, I got some things to ask, arright?" He murmurs, keeping his voice low; the staff might not care, but patrons could. Best keep mumbly.

"Dinner's on me whatever you got to say, upfront. Ain't contingent on you givin' me answers you think I'm gonna wanna hear."

(The waitress does drift by, uninterested and unimpressed, to take their orders.)

Watching the waitress approach means Lonnie didn’t have the space to answer Jon in full; Instead, he flashes a thumbs up his way.

BLT, cherry Coke. Lonnie deserved something sweet, he thought. His menu comes down after Jon’s, and he doesn’t fully turn to place his order. He does, however, have the common sense for manners; “I’d like an egg BLT and a cherry Coke, please.”

"And I'd like a tuna sub and a black coffee, please, miss. Thank you kindly."

Their orders are noted down, and she drifts on to her next engagement - and Jon leans on the table, looking Lonnie over. Where to start. "....You got a place to stay?"

“I’ll get one.” Lonnie murmurs, implying that the answer’s actually no. “Old landlord probably won’t let me back in, not like I was actually paying for my old apartment anyway...” He murmurs as he passes the saltshaker between his hands. "...Right." Jonathan says, nodding slowly. "...If you need a place to crash a li'l while while you work him over, y'know - I got a guest room. Ain't got much more than a bed and a couple boxes and a desk, but it's dry an' the door locks." "...And like, if puttin' out on your own for a place don't work, I don't mind if you stay, right?" .... Hm. The saltshaker rests in his left hand.

“...You’re serious? C’mon, your job’s probably already batter-fried as is, if anyone finds out-”

Lonnie doesn’t trail off, per se, more than he just lets his throat close a little. “...Really? You really don’t-“

He’d be an absolute idiot to decline, but there had to be some kind of catch - ? - but Jon’s not that much of a jerkass.... "Kid, much as I'm sure you could find someone whose arm you could twist for a place, it don't sit right with me to just leave you in an alley to do that. I got the room, and - well, Arkham can just deal." Jonathan’s tone is flat.

"What they don't know ain't gonna hurt my career." Lonnie puts a fist to his rapidly-splitting mouth and exhales sharply. “‘Guess that is true,” he answers, then shakes two fingers at Jon.

“...Shit, thanks, I guess? I didn’t... really expect you to show real concern, holy shit...” "What, you think it was just for appearances?" Jon chuckles, genial. "Naw, son, I try to actually care 'bout the folks I work with, didn't get into this business on accounta I don't care about people."

"Look, after Dinner I'll help you carry shit, since I left the car at home." “Okay.” Lonnie doesn’t particularly feel like pushing it any more, so he doesn’t.

“...How’d I not notice this place before?” He asks, mostly to himself. Or maybe he had, and he’d forgotten about it. Was it even worth forgetting? Ech, everything was so overwhelming. As their food and coffee comes around, Jonathan turns his attention to the rogue chat, securing something, before starting to eat. Tuna melts are truly the mac and cheese of the sandwich world, and hard to get wrong.

[ Dr_J_C ] - Hey, Eddie, you on. [ E?Nygma ] - Yes? [ Dr_J_C ] - You got a cab company you trust to keep their yaps shut [ E?Nygma ] - My henchwomen. [ Dr_J_C ] - ...Think they'd be willing to come pick up me and a runaway? Wound up cross town and the kid's got luggage [ E?Nygma ] - Only one way to find out, really.

[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Ladies? ] [ DM E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] You need something, Ed? ] [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Yes, if you have the time tonight. Dr Crane is asking me about securing private transit that doesn't talk too much, if you catch my drift. Since you're both the pair I trust most on the matter, I thought I'd ask if you'd be willing to go fetch him and cart him wherever he needs to go. He's not in a stabbing mood, so it shouldn't be risky. ] [ DM E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] Not in a stabbing mood? Color me surprised.. but sure thing, Boss! [E] Dr. Crane requires transit? We aren’t busy, so we’ll be glad to pick him up, when needed. Anything that’s said will stay in the car, don’t you worry. ] [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Peachy. Make him buy you dinner, huh? I'll forward the address: you know what to do if he starts giving you trouble, and where to send the bill. Thanks so much. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - Good news, Jonny, they'll do it. Have an address? [ Dr_J_C ] - Yeah, hangon.... Down town, Eighth and Tuppence. The shitty diner.

[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: : Eighth and Tuppence, the "shitty diner", as he put it. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - I told them to make you buy them dinner.

[ Dr_J_C ] - Yeah, sure, doesn't have to be from here. We just got our food, so - give it an hour? [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: He's asked for you to come in an hour, so you have time to get ready. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - Done and done, don't leave them waiting.

Before eating, Lonnie removes the top slice of bread from each sandwich half and salts the (perfectly over-medium) egg on top, then slides the salt to the other side of the table. He almost chokes on his first bite. God, he missed real food. "...Arkham food, huh." Jonathan chuckles, humorlessly. "Shit, every time I've gotten outta there, pizza boxes have looked appetizing."

"Eddie's henches are gonna be givin' us a ride. They ain't snitches, and I fancy our chances in one'a their cars than on foot."

“...Tall punk one n’ a short one?” Lonnie clarifies through a mouthful of BLT. Gulp. “Nice.”

“...Spent his ketchup money on Walgreens eyeliner and a burger. Should probably get online and tell ‘im once I get home, huh.” He pauses, putting down his sandwich for a second. “I told you the ketchup thing, right?”

Jonathan grins, lifting his coffee in a weird sort of salute. "Sure did. Bet you made with Eddie, right? Eyeliner and a bite's a good cause, then. He chomps down half his sandwich before turning his attention properly to coffee.

"...Good-ish news, the Asylum is pretty sure I didn't help you break out." "So they prob'ly ain't gonna assume I came got you, neither."

“Thank god,” Lonnie comments. “Like, not just ‘cuz your job’s still safe, that’s great, but god, I didn’t spend three weeks figuring out like, 80 million people’s schedules for a friend in a high place to get the stick, it’s my damn credit.” He pauses for a sip of soda. “...Is that the right metaphor? Doesn’t matter. ‘S.... nice y’aint in that deep shit.”

Another pause. “Jesus Christ, I just said ‘y’ain’t’ in complete earnest, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Lonnie laughs, leaning his head back and pulling down one eyelid. Jonathan barks a cheerful laugh, and even that is ignored by the utter apathy that is a back-street diner in Gotham. He shakes his head until it trickles down to a snicker and, grinning, drains the rest of his coffee before his attention returns to the perfectly adequate tuna melt.

"Naww, they had me doin' damage control, after talkin' to me a bit and nosing some at my notes. Shit, I didn't know a damn thing about your plans, and it showed, son, so oughta be fine."

"New's being shitty about it anyways, though, m'sorry about that." “I~’m aware,” Lonnie chimes rather sardonically, waiting to swallow this time. “Eh, GCN’s a bunch of corporatist bullcrap anyway. They don’t think I’m a real dude, I know they aren’t a real news station, cancels out.” It really doesn’t cancel out, but the shrug indicates either he’s actually fine or he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it.

Jonathan slowly nods, and makes a mental tick to get a tee-shirt made inviting people to physically fight him if they want to call Lonnie a girl. That's a dadly thing to do, right?

"...So,” Jon starts, slowly, “Y'all called me dad."

Groan. “Uh, I’m sorry?” Lonnie shrugs to accompany the nonapology— not like it was worth applogizing for. “Slip of the tongue, like callin’ a teacher ‘mom,’ y’know?”

He sucks the rest of his Coke down and sets the tall plastic glass back on the table. Jon laughs, sitting back himself and uncrossing his arms. "Dunno where all I said I was upset about it, son." His grin is lazy and easy, and he just shrugs.

"Y'all see me as a father figure?" ... Does he? ... “I mean— you’re what, two and a half times my age n I’ve seen more of you in the, what, three-ish months since you took my case than anyone else, not to mention you’re like...” Lonnie cycles through various expressions as he speaks, apparently directing his explanation at his fingernails. (Note the lack of a solid answer.)

He doesn’t mention what Jon’s like. Soon, he throws his forehead into one hand, rubbing his temples.

“I mean—- no, but also not no?” "...So, solid maybe." Jon suggests, wiping crumbs off his hands with a chuckle. "Right, well that ain't somethin' you gotta come up with an answer to today, son. Right now, priority's makin' sure you don't get picked up by the cops two days after a breakout."

"And,” he adds, “Not leavin' you to find a half-comfortable Alley to try an' make a sleeping spot from."

“Mmh,” Lonnie affirms through his last bite of BLT (emphasis on the L.) “In my defense, I spent like... the first third’a my sophomore year doin’ that, I’ve got practice.” He jokes, sending finger-guns Jon’s way. “But yeah, let’s leave that for later, ‘kay?”

"Sounds good." Jonathan pulls out his wallet, leafing through it and leaving the bill in cash, with a generous tip. No, the bill hasn't actually arrived yet, but he's pretty good at math. Something about being a Chemist, maybe.

"Ed's girls oughta be here in a nother couple minutes, so - you wanna hit the washroom or anything 'fore we head outside?"

#Jonathan Crane #Regarding Lonnie Machin #Askanarky #RP Log #Long Post #Plot #with Digital Cameos by:#Edward Nygma #Nina 'Echo' Damfino #Diedre 'Query' Vance

24 notes · View notes

rejectclone · 4 years

Text

I’ve been meaning to update the mini bios for my OCs, it took me some time to try to condense their core aspects and backstory stuff into smaller paragraphs but I’m finally done!

NAME: Jared Clements

AGE: 28

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

RACE: White (is of Hispanic descent)

OCCUPATION: Detective/Deputy

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

SHORT BIO: Who was once one of the greatest detectives in Neo York City’s police branches, now a shattered former shell of himself after the Incident. Physically and emotionally mauled from the explosion that killed his partners and his reputation, he now ruminates at the station, plotting for his revenge against the criminal organization that led to his fall. Formerly known to be the most kind and upbeat member of the station, he has become cold and callous to everyone, but the new recruit might pull him from his self-imposed darkness.....

NAME: Devon Cox

AGE: 25

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RACE: ‘White’/Ambiguous (HEAVILY mixed, but he identifies mostly with being Italian)

OCCUPATION: Trainee Officer, former illegal bloodsport boxer

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

SHORT BIO: The bastard son of a seedy bookie and a mother who clearly did not take good care of herself, along with being the only mute member of his family, he was deemed a unwanted child. Eventually, his parent’s actions caught up to them one night out, and as they were slaughtered, their son was left alone at home. Soon adopted by his uncle on his father’s side, he was essentially forced to ‘repay the debt’ by becoming a bloodsport fighter, regardless if he wanted to do it or not. As a adult, the illegal ring has fallen due to on-going corruption, he is now again left alone as his corrupt uncle got hauled off to prison. Left to his own devices and lamenting his actions, he now wants to pave his own path by repaying his own debts by joining the NYPD. Unknown to his new coworkers, he has spilled blood numerous times and won’t hesitate to do what must be done in some situations.....

NAME: B055 M4N

AGE: 24 in 4027 (BEFORE DEATH) 80 in 4083 (POST RESURRECTION)

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RACE: White

OCCUPATION: Lieutenant

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral

SHORT BIO: He was supposed to be the next gleaming star in the NYPD’s legacy of lieutenants, all from the same bloodline spanning across decades...... until he was assassinated at his induction ceremony in front of the general public. Ironically, his fate was not sealed there, as a week before his induction, he was coaxed into signing up for a ‘organ donation program’, to a incredibly specific experimental medicine company. He never expected his corpse to be used in a unethical program to create a supercomputer, devised of a human consciousness instead of a AI, to ensure that it will have a good stance on logical proceedings of organization and the law, and will not suffer from conflicts of interest. Unfortunately for him, the total conversion to a machine was semi-successful, as they could only resurrect his head...... Now doomed to be a severed head in a jar filled with PFC and the inability to speak (well, at least without using text-to-speech), he has been forcibly instated to be the permanent boss of the station. His true appearance is a facade to essentially everyone, as the ‘higher-ups’ creates false non-existent lieutenants to be instated every few years to keep the act going, except a very select few know of his current situation.

NAME: Lydia Hall

AGE: 25

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Lesbian

RACE: White

OCCUPATION: Psychiatrist, uses ‘personal nurse’ as a cover

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

BIO: She is considered to be one of the ‘greatest’ newer psychiatrists to ever grace the continental US, but nobody expected her to suddenly disappear off the face of the earth, upon getting a ‘promotion’ one day. Unknown to almost everyone, she was coerced into the psychological monitoring of one of the company’s most experimental projects, the undead severed head turned database at the local NYPD station. His previous care taker had to be laid off due to ‘concerns’, and thus she now must monitor him on a near daily basis, cleaning out his tank, making sure he is still sane, and to just stay there to entertain him basically. She never expected her career to be basically reduced to a personal nurse, and yet here she is. Unfortunately for her, the true nightmare unfolds when a certain hazmat wearing being stumbles into the picture.

NAME: Lawrence Grey

AGE: 47

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RACE: White

OCCUPATION: Geneticist

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Evil

BIO: A famed scientist who has been working for ages for a experimental medicine company. He was renown for his research in advancing certain projects, some more well received than others however. A overall stoic man, his coworkers reluctantly follow his command, never fully knowing what he thinks of them. Dedicated to his work, the higher-ups gave him access to a incredibly hidden cloning program, regardless if he wanted to work there or not. Not wanting to bond to his ‘projects’, he continued his intimidating aura, until one of them in particular piqued his interest. It would have been better if the clone never showed any promise however, as the impeding transport to another lab will lead to his escape, and his ‘father’s’ coma.....

NAME: [REDACTED]

AGE: [REDACTED]

GENDER: [REDACTED]

SEXUALITY: [REDACTED]

RACE: [REDACTED]

OCCUPATION: [REDACTED]

ALIGNMENT: [REDACTED]

BIO: ……………… he wasn’t meant for this world. The forced byproduct of a illegal cloning procedure, made to be a rejected failure on purpose. As for why? The higher-ups of the organization believed that the more malformed and sickly the clones are, the higher the chance they might carry new genes that can cure said sicknesses. The #439th clone to be made, he seemed to be another waste of flesh and blood. If it wasn’t for his ‘caretaker’, he would’ve been euthanized after a month. Desperate to ‘spare’ this subject, the caretaker demanded him to be transferred to another laboratory base, as rumors began to spread that the project has been leaked to shareholders. That fateful night, he was given a technologically advanced hazmat suit to conceal his inhuman appearance, and was shipped off to his new ‘home’. Alas, as fate would have it, the hovervan he was in along with his ‘father’, crashed, leaving him to wonder aimlessly in the pouring rain, hiding in a alleyway until he was spotted by two odd looking officers, trying to close-off the crash site. He was taken in to the station, where somebody claimed it was his ‘son’. Taken up to the lieutenant’s office, much to the confusion of many, this clone will blend into daily happenings of the station.

NAME: Ren Nakamura

AGE: 22

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Robosexual

RACE: Japanese

OCCUPATION: Future heir to the head of a crime syndicate, doubles as a criminal lawyer as a cover

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral/Evil

BIO: The next in line to his family’s criminal syndicate legacy, he is reluctant at first, but must come to terms to what he must do. Raised up to be cold and unrelenting towards his underlings and other syndicate bosses, he will never back down from a fight, always striving to be on top. However, nobody really expected him to come up with a plan to undermine other syndicates, by actually studying criminal law and becoming a legitimate defense attorney in order to coax his clients into exposing future plans (in which he will immediately inform his father of...). Recently he was assigned a personal body guard, who has a ‘unique’ physical composition and will surely make a great hitman. The two of them go along quite well, considering their popular opposites in personality.

NAME: Deangelo Moore

AGE: 25

GENDER: MALE

SEXUALITY: Gay

RACE: German-American

OCCUPATION: Cybernetic hitman, uses ‘criminal lawyer’ as a cover

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Evil

SHORT BIO: Neither fully man nor machine, this once respected art dealer has gone fully into the seedy underbelly of Neo York. As a escapee convict test subject from a experimental ‘liquid metal’ cyborg program, he is a con man on the run, until as fate would have it, he was accepted as a personal ‘body guard’ for one of his former clients’s son. With no real home to go to anymore as his public reputation has been disgraced, he now gleefully takes in stride that he is a ‘ghost’ among the populous, a potentially unstoppable killing machine who is only curbed by his greed and urge to be respected by other powerful beings. His former life now gone, he now works for his employer as if they were blood relatives, and even agreed to do a surreal operation, to directly siphon information from other rival ‘organizations’ by acting.........as public criminal lawyers who defend them..........

NAME: ‘John’ (he was never properly named by any of the scientists, so he named himself. His ACTUAL name is Specimen - 1257)

AGE: 21

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight, but questioning

RACE: Literally nothing

OCCUPATION: Chemist, radiobiologist

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

BIO: After two nuclear wars ravaged the Earth, odd things will happen to all sorts of life. This is one of them, a human who has the unfortunate pleasure of having their physical composition be mainly nuclear radiation. Much about his early past is kept under wraps by the US government, who sent him away as a infant to a remote chemical research base in Alaska, in fear of him being the next nuclear detonation. Left without proper social interaction and is just seen as a genetic anomaly, it left him with a warped view of life. With incredibly poor socialization skills but a surprisingly large scientific intellect, he has been reduced to hidden-away lab worker, who’s aware of essentially being a captive but is shocking content with it. After all, if he were to be released, the genral public wouldn’t take too kindly to a mannequin-like being with stark white skin and exposed green goo leaking out of his facial orifices, with a near constant glowing aura.

NAME: ‘Mark’ (he was never properly named, and this is just a name given to him by ‘John’. His ACTUAL name is Specimen 1258)

AGE: 21

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Literally doesn’t care at all

RACE: Literally Nothing

OCCUPATION: Convict, former hitman

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil

BIO: What’s more strange than one severely irradiated human being with physical nuclear radiation as flesh and blood? His red colored doppelgänger. With a past even more shrouded in mystery, this ‘man’ seems to originate from the wastes, the former parts of the US that were scarred from the previous two wars. Claiming to be the next step in human evolution, he is incredibly cruel and harsh, and when introducing himself to the criminal underworld as the ‘best’ hitman, he was severely feared by many. Even other rival hitmen who genetically or cybernetically augmented themselves saw him as a legitimate threat to themselves, as after all, he’s a actual living biohazard. They all chipped in together to pin him against who they believe is true my IMMUNE to him, another ungodly hitman with a liquid metal composition. The plan worked, as letting him just step foot into NYC triggered radiation alarms, thus exposing him to the government for the very first time. After a short stint at a supermax prison, he was given a deal: stop irradiating the guards and convicts, and we’ll move you to a more private place where you can do basically almost anything you want. The place in question? A remote research base in Alaska.....

#also I’m now making sideblog for all of this stuff now!!#my ocs #jared clements #devon cox #B055 M4N #lydia hall #lawrence grey #[REDACTED]#ren nakamura #deangelo moore #‘john’#‘mark’#vinyl scratching

4 notes · View notes

alenajg · 5 years

Text

I’m His Second Mate Part Four

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Running up two steps at a time finding the top of the stairs, then running left to the end of the hallway bursting the double wooden doors open with a bang. Running into my office already seeing my Beta Jungkook and my Delta Yoongi at my desk looking at the house plans and the packs property. Already discussing the advantages and disadvantages to each plan. Trying to figure out what’s the best plan. “ Jimin what did Y/n say? What did she hear?”asked Jungkook. I come closer to my desk,” The only thing she heard that gives us a clue is that they are spreading out and your Luna betrayed us.” They stopped their movement and looked at me with concern and astonishment. “ Don’t look at me like that. We don’t have time for my pity party okay?” They look down knowing I’m right. “ They spread out which means they are going from outer to inner, but because our Luna betrayed us means we could have enemies inside going from inside to out side. We need 1/4 on the pack going out in front and 1/4 in the inner. Plus 2/4s to stay with the pups and the pregnant women. Just Incase things go wrong.” Hearing multiply pairs of footsteps going up the stairs we got in our stances just incase this was a inside attack. But I soon smelt Jasmine and Rain.

I felt my body relax knowings its Y/n, but for some reason I feel pain knowing that she broken our bond and knowing she won’t fully trust me again. For some reason I hoped I smelt both of their addictive scents. Which that they both were working together, but instead I pushed away my true mate for betraying mate that lied to me about her love hurts more. What’s worse is that I’ll always be connected with my mate because we’re mated. I can literally feel her crying in our room, because I said she was a mistake. Why is she crying when she’s mated with someone else before me, and with her true mate? I hate this feeling of being torn, but a selfish pr*** at the same time. I feel someone hug me, so I looked down and saw one of the packs children. Yoo Joon speaks,” Alpha I see your in pain. Please don’t be sad. I’ll hug all your problems and sadness away.” I smile at him fondly. While bending down to kiss the boys forehead. “ Thanks Yoonie you helped me soo much. I wish you could hug me all the time, but you need to go to your mother. Okay?” The said boy looks up at him with pure happiness radiating of him,” Okay Alpha Jimin” The boy quickly turns around and runs into his mothers arms that is looking at me with pure adoration, as the safe room door closes. I smile a fake smile and ask Yoongi,” Where’s Y/n ? I just smelt her.”

He was about to speak when I heard her beautiful voice,” I’m right here. I was making sure I got everyone. But I have a confession. I am not going to stay in here. I’m going to fight with the rest.” I look at her petrified,” Absolutely not. It’s out of the question. I lost one mate by betrayal. I won’t lose another by an attack.” I say with a stern voice. She sakes her head no with tears in her eyes,” I can’t... the last time I didn’t fight and hid away when my pack was fighting the attackers they died, and I was left alone. Packless, no family, no friends nothing. I was made into a rouge that day. For eight years I wished everyday I woke up that I had died along with them. The only hope that kept me going is my mate I had yet to find, until the day I met you. But no matter what I’m still not part of your pack Jimin. Now and after this fight because I can’t handle the pain you give me and I can’t trust you. Right now I’m a rouge fighting with your pack that’s it. You don’t get to order me around ever since I broke our bond. Ever since you chose her over and over again. Just like how you broke my heart the same way.” My heart shatters with each word she says, just like my hope of her ever loving me again.” Okay, but please stay in the pack Y/n. Not for me. Not because we’re mates, but for Jungkook and Ri Eun. For the rest of the pack. For yourself and your wolf that’s craving for a pack and a family again.” I look at her desperately. If I can’t have her I’ll let her go. But I’m selfish, so I need to watch her from afar to see that she’ll get happy again. She looks at me with hesitant,” I’ll think about it. I won’t agree to anything until after this attack.” I nod my head. “ Okay” I turn to Yoongi who is looking impressed by Y/n. “ Yoongs please tell Y/n about the plan while I go down stairs and tell the rest of the fighters the plan. Please.” Yoongi looks at me and nods his head as a yes. “ Jungkook please bring the one who betrayed us to the dungeon” He pushes away from the desk that he was leaning on,” Okay Hyung.”

Y/N’s Pov

After Yoongi explains the plan. I question him. “ If Luna is already mated and is also mated to Jimin. How can she survive? How can Jimin survive without her?” He looks at me, as we walk down stairs heading to the living room. “I’m not going to lie they will always be connected. He will always crave her and feel her heat when the time comes, but they both can survive without each other because they are not true mates. Which confuses me on how she survived without her true mate.”

My eyes widen,” What if they were never separated? What if he was in this pack the whole time?” He shakes his head,” He couldn’t have because an Alpha can always sense another Alpha. An Alpha is made to lead not to be leaded.” I sigh with confusion,” Oh okay. I just don’t understand. Also, have you ever seen another mark on her? How can you hide a mark?” He looks at me, “I don’t know, the only way to hide a mark is when you cover it up with a shirt. I only seen her with one mark.” I gasped and a shocked no came out of my mouth. I sprinted down the stairs and saw everyone tied up to the chairs. “ Y/n whats wrong?” I hear Yoongi yell behind me. I stop in my tracks.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs I see Jimin standing in front of me with a smile. Standing untied and not harmed. I say with a low voice and my body tense,” Your not Jimin. Your his other identity. It’s the only way how everything fits together.” Jimin chuckles,” My my.. hmm hmm.. I looks like my second mate is a very smart woman. Jimin is lucky.” “I am confused though if you were here who was by the willow tree? And why harm your own pack? Who were the men with that so called alpha.” Jimin or I should say his other identity walks closer to me while I step further back. “ Oh I’m not going to hurt my own pack that would be stupid. What I’m doing is testing you. Who you say that was suppose to be the other Alpha is Yoongi. The other men are the men in the chairs tied up. You see I had to know, even if you are my true mate, or I should say Jimin’s mate that I can trust you. My name is Christian Jimin’s second primary identity. From the way you acted and proved yourself to us it looks like I can trust you. But let me tell you something Y/n, MY mate is up stairs crying, so right now you mean absolutely nothing to me, but to Jimin he will always love you as his true mate. Although he will be torn of which one to chose from time to time.” He says while going around cutting his pack members ropes letting the free from restraints.

All of them smile like it’s the best prank in the world. While I’m here boiling from anger. There just toying with my emotions like it means nothing. With this I turn around to leave and return to my old but new tree house, so I can stop my head from going in circles“ Where do you think your going little mushroom?” I answer back honestly ,” Well Christian, I am going to my tree house to wrap my head around the insane mess. Plus, I don’t think I can forgive you for this. You know my past and you toyed with me. I need space.” He chuckles,” Sure sure. Take your time.”

Thinking I was free until I felt searing pain on my scalp with my body flying to the floor. I look down where my feet is to see my still Luna. “ You think you can walk out of here without a scratch. You caused me pain. Christian is mine. Not only that Jimin will be mine as well! Understand me?” I see red and feel my body change into my wolf. My wolf runs towards her and tackles her in her human form. With the only thought in my head.” Jimin is mine!!” It looks like there will be a fight today after all.

I bite her shoulder yanking it out of place. While she is turning into her wolf form. Brown with black spots on her fur, and her eyes golden yellow. She bites the sides of my ribs. Going for her neck I get slammed into my side pushing me away from her. The new wolf maneuvers my body onto my stomach and latches onto my throat. Growling I push him away from me stepping back with my head down with defeat. I watch Jimin’s wolf change back into human form. Looking into his eyes I can tell is Jimin not Christian because Christian has blood red eyes. While Jimin has Golden Brown eyes. “ How dare you do that to your Luna. I love you I do as a true mate, but can’t you see your in the wrong here?” I growl loudly while I stomp my paws as I pace as I think to myself,” Me in the wrong?? You got to be kidding me? She’s the one that attacked me.” I change back into my human form. “ Your impossible!!! I don’t care what my wolf says anymore! You!” I look at my Luna “ You can have him and you Jimin. Since I met you I have fought for you! I have loved you! And I have broken myself for you to be with this wicked witch of the west! All I get is no love! No respect and definitely no mate! So guess what I don’t want you anymore! I gave you so many chances! But you through them away! I’m done” he speaks while I’m yelling at him. Slowly walking closer to me. “ Y/n calm down” I look at him with a hard look.” Me calm down?! No I’ve had it with you. I Y/n Y/L reject you Park J— hmpf!” He runs towards me and cover my mouth with us hand. “ I will not let you finish that. Jungkook! Yoongi! Please take her to her room. I’ll find a guard for it.” I struggle to get out of his grip. Yoongi and Jungkook comes forward to grab each arm, and shoulder dragging me away. I look back seeing Jimin comfort his Luna. I will no longer call her my Luna and I will no longer call Jimin my true mate.

They push me inside my room and quickly close the door to lock it. If I remember correctly he hasn’t found a guard yet, which mean the outside of my room is probably not guarded yet. I quickly run to the window “my room” opening it thankfully. I look down not seeing any guards. I start to get ready to go out of the window when I hear a voice behind me. “ Do you really think I would be stupid enough to let you be alone even for a minute?” I turn around to look at my ex mate,” Let me go.” I say this while walking backwards to the bathroom that’s connected to the room. He looks at me with his eyebrow raised,” How about a no?” I quickly run into the bathroom and lock it. “ Stay away from me!” I hear his muffled voice behind the door,” Not until you see that I love you as a second mate. You can’t be without me, or we both die soon. We will always need each other, so come to realization to the reality of this situation.” I laugh in frustration,” No, your the one that can see straight.” He just ignores me and says,” I’ll come back when dinner is ready to fetch you. Also, Christian doesn’t need you I do and my true mate. He need your Luna and I need you Y/n” I hear the door slam.

I start crying while sliding down the door. Why why does this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? How can I love him when he has another identity that doesn’t love me back. How can I love Jimin when he will always love her more. All I can say is that I don’t want this when it’s a one sided love story.

Hey Cuties, I’m back with another chapter. I hope this one puts you on the edge of your seat. I hope you enjoy. Love Author Rain

Part 1,Part 2, Part 3, Masterlist

71 notes · View notes

conretewings · 5 years

Text

No Place For Kids

****Ok, so I thought I posted this forever ago (like, over a year) but I just found it sitting in my drafts and when I went to check my archive...it wasn’t there? I don’t know if I overlooked it or what happened, but here? Enjoy this short Guzma-centric fic)****

A deathly quiet had fallen over the room, the only sounds now coming from the constant, distant drum of rain on the roof and the noise of grunts in other parts of the mansion. Guzma leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared hard at the nervous-looking young boy in front of him.

“What did you just say, kid?”

The boy swallowed and dared to meet his piercing gray eyes for just a moment before looking back down, “I-I want to j-join Team Skull.”

Guzma abruptly stood from his chair and in two strides was standing over him, the boy gasping and stumbling back a step.

With a mirthless laugh he barked, “Tch! You’re scared to even be near me! You should be, but if yer gonna run with us ya gotta be at least tough enough to look me in the face…” he glared down at the boy, who’s eyes were glued to the floor and frowned, “Look at me.”

Slowly, trembling the whole time, he raised his head and held Guzma’s gaze, who regarded him critically before reaching out a hand. Instantly the boy yelped and threw up his arms to shield his face and neck.

Startled, Guzma yanked his arm back before snapping, “Yo! Calm the fuck down! I ain’t gonna hit a kid! What the hell-”

He froze as the realization started to creep in; the young man’s stance, half-curled up and trying to protect himself as much as possible, shaking and waiting for the blow’s to come…he knew this scene far too well. He took a couple steps away and lowered his voice a bit.

“Hey kid. What’s your name? And for fuck’s sake how old are you? Y’aint even up to my chest.”

Slowly, the boy stood up again and met his eyes with a bit more confidence, “I’m Arin, and I’m twelve.”

Guzma felt his eye twitch as the rage began to bubble up. Stalking past Arin, he threw open his door and bellowed, “PLUMERIA!!”

A few moments later he heard her voice from downstairs, “What?”

“GET YOUR ASS UP HERE NOW!”

It only took a minute for her to reach his room, which she entered casually as he slammed the door behind her before looming over her and jabbing a finger in Arin’s direction.

“What the fuck is a twelve year-old doing here?! Who let him in and how did he get past you?!” he spat furiously.

Plumeria crossed her arms, unfazed by his attempts at intimidating her and pointedly ignoring it, “He didn’t. I told him to go talk to you.”

“What the fuck Plumes?! He’s twelve! Freakin’ TWELVE! This is a gang not a daycare! We ain’t got no room for brats barely outta diapers what the hell were you thinkin’?!”

“Look G,” she sighed, holding up her hands “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wouldn’t listen to me, or Tony, or Kaleb, or Annette, or anyone. I finally figured he might listen to you. Or, at least you could scare him off.”

Guzma whipped his head toward Arin, “That true, kid?”

He nodded, “Everyone kept telling me no, b-but I really wanted to, so…Plumeria, right? She told me that if I wanted in that bad I had to talk to you.”

Guzma slapped a hand over his face and grumbled a string of muffled obscenities while stalking back to his chair and grabbing a half-empty bottle from it’s base. Flopping back down, he drained part of it in one long swallow before glaring at Arin again.

“No. That’s my final say. Now git. If ya can’t remember where the door is, Plumes’ll be happy to kick you out it.”

Arin drew a deep, shaky breath before standing up straight and doing his best glare back at Guzma with a surprising amount of ferocity, “I’m not leaving.”

“Yes you are ya little shit-stain now get outta my face. Go home. This ain’t no place for kids.”

Arin dropped his gaze again, “…I can’t go home.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means I can’t go home.”

Guzma slammed his fist on his chair, “Listen, smartass! I will personally throw ya out the nearest window if ya keep it up. Now whattaya mean?”

“It means I can’t go home! I won’t!” the boy was yelling now and holding his head, “I’m not going back to hearing how much of a failure and a retard I am, to being either ignored or screamed at, to-to getting beat whenever I breathe the wrong way!”

That tense quiet settled over the room again, and Plumeria caught Guzma’s gaze, giving him a knowing look as she noticed his pained, livid expression.

Drawing a deep breath, Arin glanced at them both before explaining, “My dad’s always been…hard on me. But when I failed my Island Challenge, things got really awful. I can’t leave my room most of the time and when I do it gets…bad. I…” he swiped a hand across his eyes before squaring his shoulders and raising a fist, “I want to re-take it! I’m stronger now, and I know I could do it. But my folks keep telling me not to bother, that I’ll just screw up again! But I won’t! And-and that’s why I need to join you! To get even more strong so I can win and show everyone who doubted me that I’m not worthless!”

For just a moment, Arin vanished, and Guzma saw himself in the boy’s place; young, angry, disheartened, beaten down but still determined to come out ahead. His eyes flicked to Plumeria, who’s own were with clouded with uncertainty and pity.

She stepped over to Guzma, bending so she could talk quietly into his ear, “G, I know what you’re thinking. This kid is goin’ through some serious shit, but there ain’t no way he’s got any place here. I don’t know what to do. We can’t just send him back to that...”

“We ain’t gonna. I have an idea.” he murmured, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

He stood again, approached Arin and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye. There was nothing he could do for his past self, but maybe he could help this boy in the present.

“Look. Yer not joinin’ us. I meant what I said, this ain’t no place for kids,” he noted how Arin glowered at his feet and clenched his fists, “Ya wanna know why else? ‘Cause you still have a chance. All of us? This is it. This is rock bottom and there ain’t no place to go from that. You? You still got a shot at makin’ somethin’ of yourself. I saw how passionate ya were just then, talkin’ about your dream of completin’ your Island Challenge. Don’t let that kind of spunk and determination flicker out.”

Slowly, Arin looked up at him, his face twisted with despair and anger but touched with surprise at Guzma’s words, “I don’t have anyplace to go, and I am not going home.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I can’t do anything else to help ya, but I know someone who can.”

-Nanu craned his neck from his spot on his couch to look at his suddenly ringing phone. A couple Meowth looked up in vague interest before going back to grooming or napping. Finally, when he realized it was just going to keep ringing if he didn’t deal with it, he groaned and hauled himself to his feet, absently setting his coffee mug on a nearby desk and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey. I uh…I got a favor I need to ask.”

Nanu sighed, “Nice to talk to you too, Guzma. If you’re in jail again I’m not helping.”

“Oh-eat my ass, old man!”

“No thanks, and if you’re looking for a favor, talking to me like that isn’t helping.”

“….The favor ain’t for me.”

-It was nearly a month later when Guzma half-walked, half-stumbled down the road, managing to hold bottles in each hand as he sang loudly and made his way to Nanu’s place.

Reaching the door he leaned against the frame and used his knee to ‘knock’. “Heeeey ya crazy old cat man! It’s ya boy! Lemme in I got beer!”

The door opened and Nanu looked him up and down with his usual tired, morose expression. Guzma’s hair was a complete disaster, covered in glitter and what appeared to be Silly String. A huge, lop-sided grin was plastered on his face as he slumped against the door.

“’Sup?” he slurred.

Nanu sighed, “I’m pretty sure I could hear you guys all the way from here. Well, come in.”

He stepped aside and allowed Guzma to stagger in and flop onto the couch, displacing several hissing Meowth in his wake. Still chuckling, he held up one of the bottles he had.

“Didn’t feel right leavin’ you outta the party so I thought I’d come down and share. C’mon! Have a beer with me! It’s the good stuff!”

Nanu considred the offered bottle for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for a police officer to accept stolen goods.”

Guzma looked almost offended, “Yo! I just got paid, and bought these fair and square! I swear!” then his face lit up again, “Heh heh, that rhymed! Even drunk I still got it!”

Nanu’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly; he knew full well where that ‘pay’ had come from, and made a mental note to check up with his contacts within Aether later. For now, he had to admit a beer sounded refreshing, and the fact that it was coming from that woman’s dime made it sound even sweeter.

At last, he shrugged and took it, sitting down next to the gang leader. “Thanks.”

“Eeeyyyyy! There ya go!” crowed Guzma, “Heh, we haven’t had a beer together in ages! A toast! To uh…” he scratched his chin, absently picking some Silly String from his scruff, “To…shit. I had somethin’…”

“How about to your friend, Arin?” Nanu suggested.

“Who? Ain’t none of my crew named Arin.”

“I mean the boy you called in a 'favor’ about a while back.”

Guzma paused with his bottle halfway to his mouth, the realization creeping into his expression. Slowly lowering it, he stared at Nanu briefly before leaning back and turning his gaze to the nearest window, his smirk slowly fading. After a moment he asked, "How’d the little dude make out?"

“Technically I’m not really supposed to discuss these kinds of cases, but considering you’re quite drunk I trust you’re not going to go blabbing it anyway-if you remember anything,” he ignored Guzma’s muttered curses and began to explain, “Child Services was sent to the house and well...you were right. Arin was definitely being abused.”

“I fucking KNEW IT!” snarled Guzma, hurling his empty bottle so hard it cracked into several pieces upon impact with the wall, “The way he acted, the shit he said-fuck,” he whirled toward Nanu, his eyes ablaze, “Please tell me-”

Nanu calmly held up a hand, “It was dealt with. Arin is now living with relatives on another island, and his father is not allowed to see him. I checked in about a week ago, and he’s doing very well. He plans on re-taking his Island Challenge soon.”

Guzma let out a long, deep sigh. His shoulders relaxed and he stood, slowly pacing around the small building, hands shoved in his pockets. He couldn’t help but think; what if someone had noticed his situation? He glanced down at the heavy gold chain around his neck, and suddenly it felt a lot heavier. If things had turned out differently, would he still be wearing this? Standing here? He shook his head, stuffing the darkness back down as he always did. Nanu waited patiently until he turned back to him and spoke.

“Yo. Thanks, old man.”

Nanu shrugged casually, secretly enjoying hearing the sincere gratitude, “He’s a good kid. He’ll be alright...” he paused, unsure if he should open this can of worms but deciding it was probably okay in the man’s current state, “I just wish that someone had done the same for you.”

Instantly, the mood in the room changed. Guzma froze, whipping his head toward him, eyes wide, his face an unnerving cross between alarmed and furious, “What’s that mean huh? The fuck does that mean?”

Nanu squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, realizing he’d messed up but knowing there was no backing out, “It means I wish someone had spoken up on your behalf when you were younger and had to go through what Arin has...who knows? Maybe you would-”

“WHO THE FUCK TOLD YOU THAT?!” Guzma exploded so loudly all the the Meowth laying around yowled and scrambled over each other to run out the door, “THAT SHIT AIN’T NO ONE’S FUCKIN’ BUSINESS! I swear when I find the-”

“You did.”

Breathing heavily, fists clenched as if ready to fight an enemy who wasn’t there, or the phantoms of his nightmares, Guzma asked, “What?”

Nanu repeated himself, “You did. I don’t think you realize just how much you talk when you’re drunk. One night, kind of like this one, you came down here and told me all about your life growing up. You talked for what had to have been a couple hours before you passed out on the couch. When I got up you were still sleeping, so I left you some coffee before I took off.”

Guzma was now sitting again, hunched over and hands clenched in his hair, “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck...I don’t remember tellin’ ya any a’ that...”

“Of course not. You were so hammered I doubt you would.”

He looked up, glaring furiously at the older man, “Ya didn’t repeat none of it right? “Cause I don’t need no one pryin’ into my shit or feelin’ sorry for me.”

“I didn’t. Frankly, what good would it do? You’ve already made yourself the most hated person in Alola. A tragic backstory wouldn’t make people despise you any less.”

Guzma smirked at that, “Heh, guess I have. What about you, old man? Do you despise me too?”

“No,” answered Nanu without hesitation, “You’re a pain in my ass sometimes but I don’t hate you.”

Chin resting in his hands, Guzma regarded him curiously. Though he was still quite hammered, he could tell Nanu was sincere with his words, a notion that both comforted but also greatly confused him; why would anyone not hate him? He could also feel the buzz beginning to wear off and realized he should be getting back before he ended up passing out on the couch again, or worse, blabbing any more about his youth. On the other hand, Nanu didn’t seem to care all that much that he had. Maybe he had found someone he could...

He squeezed his eyes shut. No.

Standing, he put on the biggest, most confident grin he could and gestured to the other two bottles he had brought, “Well, I better get home. Can’t leave the kids too long, ya know? They’ll rip the place apart, worse than it already is. Thanks for havin’ a beer with me.You can keep those. They’re on the house,” his smile faltered for just a second, “And uh, thanks for letting me know Arin’s okay. I’ll keep it to myself if ya keep the shit I said quiet, cool?”

Nanu nodded, “Of course.”

Guzma absently scratched at his neck, “That’s that I guess. Later, old man.”

“Yeah. Later.”

As he passed through the door, he heard Nanu say behind him, “Take care.” Before he could say thanks, it was followed with, “And sober up for Arceus sake.”

“Oh, bite me!” Guzma huffed, nearly slamming the door.

Nanu grinned smugly, gently scratching the Meowth that had come back and jumped into his lap.

#guzma #team skull #fanfiction #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon sumo #nanu #plumeria

28 notes · View notes

adscititious-cacoethes · 5 years

Note

“Remove the hand before I remove it for you” in the Petrichor universe with Michael?

This is in the same universe as Petrichor, but it’s not the exact same canon, because in the original I had a few allusions of Michael and Lindsay being together, and this took a romantic turn…

If you’re not super familiar with Petrichor, it is a modern fantasy AU with supernatural elements, and Geoff runs AH - a group of supernatural beings who act as a sort of pseudo police/gang group that monitors the supernatural presence of the city and deals with the stuff that the “normal” police wouldn’t be able to, and whatnot.

Pairings: Michael J./ReaderWarnings: swearing, threatening violence, general warnings that should be given when Michael is involved. open ended, can be interpreted as kind of sad? idk, that’s for you to decide for yourself.

Enjoy!

You can send me prompts here, read prompting “rules” here, or read my other stuff here!

________________________________________________________________

You were relatively new to Ramsey’s crew, but up until this point, you had gotten on with the rest of them like a house on fire.

Key words, of course, being “up until this point.”

You weren’t sure what you had done, but for some reason, Michael had taken a sudden and acute stance change from “friendly” to “completely ignoring you.”

As a fire nymph, you figured that the demon, whose original domain is bathed in fire and brimstone, would be the easiest person to become friends with. And at first, you thought that was true. Michael was charming, if a little hot-headed, and seemed to give you tiny, secret smiles when the others weren’t looking. It made your heart flutter in time with your wings. It wasn’t long after you started when he started saving you a muffin at breakfast when he knew that it was your favorite or sitting in the chair you had decided was your “favorite” chair for briefing meetings until you arrived so that it was saved for you.

It was cute. Michael was cute. The two of you got along well. And it wasn’t more than a few months into your employment with AH that you realized you were starting to like him, in a schoolgirl crush/romantic sort of way. At first, you were too scared to admit it to yourself, however eventually (with a lot of needling from Jeremy, who had accidentally discovered your crush), you decided to stick out an olive branch and see where it led.

But, as soon as you sent him a tiny, secret smile back one night after a particularly rough run-in with some Unseelie fae that had been causing a ruckus, the next morning - poof! - it was like you didn’t exist.

And, frankly, after a week, it was starting to piss you off.

The first thing you did after you realized that no, this was not just a “Michael-being-moody” thing and was, in fact a “Michael-pointedly-ignoring-you” thing, was go to Ryan. The vampire had been in charge of your little group outing, so he was the most logical person to ask if you had done something that would warrant Michael ignoring you.

When you had finally found the elusive Elder Vampire, holed up in his office (even though you had checked there thrice earlier and he had not been there before), he had just responded with a shrug and a wave of his hand.

“It’s Michael,” he stated with a frown as he fiddled with a gadget that looked to be at least a century older than you were, “I try not to figure him out anymore. Gives me too many headaches.”

“You say that about everyone.” You retorted shortly, hands on your hips.

Ryan blew hair out of his face, finally looking up at you, “Exactly. And you’re about to be added to that list of “everyone.” Ask Gavin or something, I don’t know.”

—

Heeding Ryan’s advice, you waited a day or two to see if Michael got over his whatever, and when he hadn’t, you set out in search of Gavin.

The siren, turns out, much easier to find.

“Hmm…” He pulled at his beard, looking off into the distance as you told him your tale. Something flashed across his unnaturally blue eyes - a glint of recognition, maybe? - but it was gone before you could have the time to pinpoint what you saw.

“Well?” You huffed, tapping your foot.

“I dunno. He’s my Michael-boi, but he hasn’t said much to me about it.” Gavin finally said with a shrug that looked suspiciously like Ryan’s had, dancing away before you had the chance to probe him for further information.

—

It seemed, however, that while your brief chat with Gavin brought you to a dead end, it had also amped up Michael’s avoidance of you. Instead of just pretending you didn’t exist, he had escalated to making every excuse to leave the room as soon as you entered, swapping out with others on scouts and missions, and so on.

You endured this for three more days before you couldn’t take it anymore. Michael was in the kitchen, his back to you, and before you could realize what you were doing, you were striding towards him, cornering him in the kitchen.

“Michael, we need to talk -” You stated, putting your brave face on as you lightly grabbed his shoulder with your hand.

He spun around with faster reflexes than you knew he had and glared at you. His eyes seemed forever dark, an inky black had spread into his irises from his pupils. You took a split-second to decide whether or not pissing off the demon was worth it.

You decided it was.

“No, we fucking don’t. Remove the hand before I remove it for you.” Michael spat, trying to step away from you, but you were faster, reaching out and floating forward in time with his movements to latch onto his wrist, this time.”

“Yes, we do! I’m not leaving, Michael, not until I understand why you’re ignoring me.” You pushed, trying to portray your hurt and despair over his actions with your voice. If only he would understand.

“I said, get off!” Michael practically roared, wrenching out of your grip and you watched as his body began to smoke, inky black, and the smell of ash and fire burned your nostrils.

You knew it was supposed to be a threat, a warning. But Michael was forgetting that you were also made from fire. You let your own aura glow, your fiery wings revealing themselves, and you felt the flames licking at the tips of your fingers.

“I just want to understand, Michael! Why are you ignoring me?” Despite your own show of power, you pleaded, unsure of how to get through to the hot-headed demon.

The darkness that surrounded Michael vanished as quickly as it came, and he sagged back against the countertop,��“I just…I like you, okay? I can’t risk you getting hurt. I can’t risk it happening, not again.” He sighed and brushed past you, and you, too in shock at his confession, let him go.

It took you a moment to bring yourself back together, but once you did, you went back to searching for Michael. No matter what he thought, the conversation wasn’t over.

You weren’t giving up on him.

#rt reader insert #Anonymous #rt imagine #modern fantasy au #supernatural au #prompts #replies #michael j x reader

3 notes · View notes

toutallyahoe · 5 years

Text

Nightmare pt 2 | Like A Family

Ａ/Ｎ:

Whoops

[Name] died lol

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲＳ:

Nightmare pt 1 | Nightmare pt 2 | Nightmare pt 3

═══════════════════════

Connor's audio processors seemed to only hear the gunshot and slight ringing, his LED was glowing brightly red as he opened his eyes. Connor's conscience was back and he stared at the limp body of the male who used to be one of his partner in horror. Brown eyes widen as he stared at the gunshot on [Name]'s forehead as blood continued to gush out and drip down his head. Blood splatters on the snow covered ground as [Name]'s [Eye color] eyes stared at the ground. The life on them already gone as the bullet hit his head and killing him.

｢ DETECTIVE [NAME] ANDERSON TERMINATED ｣

MISSION SUCCESSFUL

"N-no..." The android's hands were shaking as he continued to stare at [Name]'s corpse. "I... I'm sorry..." Connor shakily said as he lowered the gun and continued to look at the dead male. The android could clearly see the blood was already staining the male's clothes and some blood was pooling on the ground.

"I-I'm sorry..." Connor muttered as his hands shake from knowing he killed his partner. "I... I-it wasn't m-me..."

Connor held the gun tightly as he started to turn around and run towards the exit of the rooftop. His footsteps echoed a bit each step he took. The LED was flickering from red to yellow as ran, his mind was blank. He killed [Name]. The fact that he killed the only person left after Hank died from playing Russian Roulette days ago made the android felt... Pain...

"So, you're the android my dad is whining about, huh?"

Connor looked up to see a [Hair color] haired male looked at him with a smirk on his lips. The android took note the male's stance seemed to be relax and his arms crossed as he gave a grin to the android. Shaking his head, the [Hair color] haired male uncrossed his arms and offered a hand to shake the android's. "Name's [Name] Anderson. So, what's yours, plastic?"

"Officer Anderson, my name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." Connor stated as he grabbed the human's hand and firmly shook it. "It would be a pleasure working alongside with you, Officer Anderson." The [Hair color] haired on gave a nod as his [Eye color] eyes seemed to gleam with amusement. "Likewise, plastic."

Connor's eyes widen as he ran faster, immediately opened the metal door and ran down the stairs. "N-no... Please... I-I'm sorry!"

"Oi, plastic!"

Connor immediately turned his head towards the direction of the call only to see [Name] looked a bit disgusted at him. "Jeez, can you please just stop sticking those..." The [Hair color] haired male trailed as he then pointed at the red liquid on Connor's fingers tips. Blood. "Uh, stuff on your mouth for a second?"

"Officer Anderson, please refrain from calling me 'plastic' as my name is Connor." The cop rolled his eyes on what the android had said as he let out a grunt. Connor then continued, "I am also sorry, officer, but I had to take a sample to analyze if it's the victim's bloo--"

"It is the victim's blood, plastic, Jesus Christ." The cop let out an exasperated sigh as he looked at the android again, also disregarding on the android's constant reminder to stop calling him 'plastic'.

"Just... Just don't put more evidence in your mouth already. Got it?" [Name] stated as Connor nodded his head and gave the cop a reassuring smile. "Got it." The android replied as the cop just shook his head and walked away from the android. "Jesus Christ, why the fuck was he designed like that?"

"N-no please!" Connor said as he continue to ran out the building and continued on to the streets. The snow fall down as the android just ran. Muttering over and over about it's not his fault and it's all just a bad dream. "T-this isn't real!"

"You don't have to do this, Connor!"

Connor abruptly stopped his pace as his vision became blurry. One by one, tears slowly fell down onto the snow covered pavement as the android began to sob. "I-I... I'm sorry..." Connor muttered as his LED stayed red.

"You know, for awhile, me and dad believed in you, Connor..."

"I'm so s-sorry..." Connor croaked out as his body trembled from the what had happened.

"I thought you'll be able to help restore back our faith in this fucking world... But you just showed us androids are... Are just our own creation..."

"I-I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry. P-please come back." Connor continued to mutter as he closed his eyes shut and grab his head. "P-please!"

"Creation on our own fucked up image... Selfish, ruthless and also brutal, huh?"

"P-please! PLEASE!" Tear cascading down from the android's eyes as he shakes his head. 'This is just a dream. This is just a dream.' Connor tried to reassure himself as his mind went back to the dead body of his partner on the rooftop. "T-this is just a d-dream... P-please..." Connor's voice cracked at the end as he remembered the blood coating the floor and snow. How [Name]'s body immediately went limp from taking the bullet through his head.

"You know, Connor. You opened my eyes... Making me realize it was just fucking hopeless..."

"[Name], I--"

"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY I'M SORRY! P-PLEASE COME BACK!!!" Connor screamed as he chant the words over and over again. He gripped his hair in pain as he cried. "I'M S-SO SORRY, I-I'M SO S-SORRY, I'M SO SORRY!"

"Just fucking do it already, Connor."

"[Name], plea--"

"P-PLEASE... PLEASE, J-JUST PLEASE COME BACK!" The android begged as he continue to cry out. He wanted him back. He wanted [Name] back. He wanted Hank back and Sumo back. He wanted them back.

"I SAID JUST FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!"

"N-No! S... Stop!" Connor screamed as his mind replayed the scene of [Name] screaming for him to end his life. To complete his mission. "P-PLEASE!!!"

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!? JUST DO IT, CONNOR!"

"I'M SORRY!" Connor shouted as he felt the dread and pain. Snapping his eyes open wide as he screamed.

"IM SO SORRY [NAME]!!! IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY

-00:00:05

sʜᴜᴛᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪᴍᴍɪɴᴇɴᴛ :

IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY

-00:00:04

-00:00:03

-00:00:02

•

-00:00:01

•

-00:00:00

•

═══════════════════════

PREV | NEXT

#detroit become human x male reader #detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh x male reader #detroit: connor #detroit: bh #connor #rk800 #rk800-51 #dbhconnor #connor x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #angsty fluff #angst #fluff

29 notes · View notes

petitmochii · 5 years

Text

I Like Me Better: Chapter One

August 31, 2017; New York City; 11:00 am

It was a cool, rainy Thursday morning in New York City, but nothing could match the signature icy glare from Veronica Hayes. She was sipping on a 90-degree soy latte with extra foam while getting her finishing touches from hair and makeup for today’s big interview. Her gaze bounced off the vanity mirror and landed on the back of my head, sending a shiver down my spine. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had frost bite by the end of the day.

“I am never drinking again,” Natalie came bouncing into the office, two hours late as always, juggling a pile of papers and two coffees from our favorite place down the street. She handed my coffee to me, “I feel like death.” She looked like death. Her fiery red curls laid in frizzy disarray upon her head, giving her a lion-like mane. The dark circles under her eyes showed her lack of sleep and there was still a slight tint of pink on her lips from the night prior’s makeup. She dropped her pile of papers with a thud on the floor and she slumped over her desk, opposite mine.

“So, you had fun on your date?” I cradled the cup of coffee with my name on it, “Or at least it sounded like it,” I smiled over the brim of the cup before bringing it to my lips. Natalie and I shared a third story walk-up apartment in Brooklyn Heights. Much to my dismay, we had very thin walls and Natalie often had late night visitors.

Natalie scoffed, “I came, I saw, I conquered...I came again,” she sat up just in time to catch my eyeroll. We both laughed, “What’s her problem? Queen of Hearts looks like she’s about to call for your head any moment.”

I glanced over my shoulder to discover Veronica’s eyes still fixated on me, “Honestly, I’m not sure,” I turned back towards Natalie and shrugged, “We’re in charge of the research and production for today’s interview, so I’m sure she’ll find a reason to crucify me later.”

“Ooooo who’s on the itinerary today?” Natalie perked up, “Anyone I know?” If there was one asset to having Natalie on staff at Billboard, it was her immense knowledge of celebrities and their dirtiest secrets. This was thanks to her upbringing as a socialite on the Upper East Side, with several famous friends and relatives.

“I don’t think you’ll know much about these guys, love,” I flipped my computer around to show her my word document of fun facts, photos, and upcoming projects, “they’re a K-pop band called BTS.”

Natalie clutched the sides of my computer, pulling it closer to her face, “You’re right, I don’t know them, but I’d sure like to get to know that one on the left.”

I was about to remind Natalie of Billboard’s strict “no fraternization” policy regarding celebrities, when I heard a shrill, “Ohhh Calendar!” Veronica’s stupid nickname she gave me during my first week at Billboard. I had a knack for remembering dates, and I made the mistake of correcting her in a meeting when she gave the wrong date for a Justin Bieber tell-all. I sighed and mustered up all of my strength to put on a fake smile. As I approached Veronica’s seat at the vanity, she began to shake her Starbucks cup in my direction, “it’s empty.” This was my Veronica’s language for ‘Can you please get me a new latte?’ except she was incapable of being polite. Veronica was a lead interviewer at Billboard, and as Digital Content Assistant, I was at her beck and call.

“Would you like your usual?” I shinned her my tight-lipped smile.

“Yes,” she tossed the cup in my direction, “Except, this time make sure it’s 90-degrees. The latte you brought me this morning was way too hot,” hence the death stares this morning, “For a college-educated girl, you sure don’t follow directions too well, Sarah.” It’s Sierra. I’ve worked for the company for almost four months, and she still can’t get my name right. It took all my power not to rip out her extensions, but instead I grabbed my coat and headed towards the elevator.

************************************************************************************************

The Starbucks line was long, as expected with the start of the lunch rush. Impatiently, I began to tap my foot as I look at my watch. 11:30am, I had 30 minutes before BTS would be arriving at the Billboard office.

It was almost my turn to order, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find two men, who looked around my age, dressed in colorful clothing, “I’m sorry, I hate to bother you,” said the taller of the two, “But is there something you could recommend for us? We’re not used to the U.S. menu in Starbucks.” The two men looked expectantly at me with stupid smiles on their faces.

“Um, I like the Chai tea lattes,” the taller man turned to his friend and began to translate in what sounded like Korean. It was my turn, “Hi Jack, I’ll take the usual and put it on the company tab. Please make sure it’s 90-degrees this time so I don’t get murdered.” I saw the staff at this Starbucks, every Monday through Friday, at least twice a day, so we got to know each other fairly well.

As Jack began to make my order, the man behind me cleared his throat to get my attention. I whipped my head in their direction, now annoyed. Noticing my frosty glare, he began to stutter, “You see, me and my friend here are from Korea, and this is only our second time in the US and we don’t know much about what to do...”

Jack announced my order was ready, “…so we could really use a local New Yorker to show us around, since we’re here for a while. If you’re interes-“

“You know, I’m really busy,” I grabbed Veronica’s order, “I don’t have time to stand around and talk with random people in coffee shops, let alone give them tours of New York.” I was never a rude person, even to strangers. But Veronica’s outburst put me in a bad mood, and I didn’t have the time to chitchat.

I pushed open the glass doors and pulled the hood of my coat closer around my face as the rain pelted down from the grey clouds above. I quickly peaked back at the two strangers, they were standing at the pickup counter waiting for their drinks. I couldn’t help but notice how embarrassed the taller of the two looked, red cheeked and scratching the back of his neck. His friend was bent over in laughter, obviously mocking his futile attempt at flirting. Normally, I would’ve felt bad, but I had a boyband to interview.

************************************************************************************************

When I arrived back in the office, Natalie was setting up the backdrop in the interview studio. Or at least, she was trying too. She was standing, wobbly kneed, on a rolling chair with her arms stretched out in ‘Y’ shape. With a face so red it was difficult to tell where her hairline began, she glanced towards me and whined, “Sieeerrra, help me!’

Grabbing the step stool, I rushed to relieve Natalie from her starfish stance, “First of all, you never stand on a rolling chair. There’s always a stepstool in here.” I fastened the black fabric to its metal support system, “And secondly,” I turned towards Natalie who was leaning against the walls, wiping her brow, “you need to learn how to do this by yourself. I won’t always be around to save you.”

“But you’re so good at it,” we took a step back to admire the interview setup, “Have I ever told you how much I love and cherish you?” Natalie stroked my hair and fluttered her puppy dog eyes at me.

“Not often enough.”

We were reviewing the research and questions I had prepared for the interview this morning, when we heard the distinct click of 5-inch Louboutin heels and the chatter of a mass of people. Soon enough, the wicked witch herself appeared in the doorway with a herd of young, very attractive men following her; BTS photographed well, but the pictures didn’t do them justice. Veronica clutched her Starbucks cup in her hand (too cold this time) and motioned us to move out of the way. We obliged.

The seven guys filed into the room, along with some older men whom I assumed were management, and each took a seat on one of the stools we set in front of the backdrop. Veronica took a seat in her obnoxious pink chair that resembled a Victorian throne. She crossed her legs, took out a compact and reapplied a thick layer of her ruby red lipstick. Blowing herself a final kiss, Veronica closed the compact and turned towards the guest, “Ready boys?”

“Let’s do this,” one of the guys cheered. I turned the lenses of the camera to focus on the group. I was in charge of audio and visuals, while Natalie took control of the lighting.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Veronica clapped her hands, causing her acrylic nails to clack against one another, “Before we begin, I’d like to introduce you to my assistants for the interview today.” Natalie and I appeared from behind our designated positions and stood next to Veronica’s throne, “On lighting, is Natalie Connor.”

“Hi,” Natalie let out a small wave.

“And in charge of the camera,” I could hear the honey sweet tone leaving Veronica’s voice, “is Sarah Kwan.”

“It’s Sierra,” I let slip as I struggled to hold in an eye roll. I scanned the sea of boys in front of me; each had their own style, whether it was colorful hair or equally loud clothing. When my eyes made it to the front row, my heart skipped a beat. I could feel the heat rising to my face, I wanted to run and hide, but I knew Veronica would never let me live that down.

The two guys from the coffee shop sat front and center. My attempted suitor looked as surprised as I felt, but his expression quickly changed to a smirk when he sidekick nudged his arm a mumbled something between laughs. How did I not recognize them? I had literally spent the entire morning researching their band and looking at pictures of them.

“Kwan?” one of the guys in the back, who I believed was called J-Hope, pipped up, “Are you Korean?” This was one of the few phrases I recognized in Korean because of how often I was asked.

A flare of heat came on my cheeks again, “Only half. I’m sorry I don’t speak Korean.” J-Hope nodded understandingly as I let my hair cover my face. I wanted to die. Natalie nudged me, but I ignored her.

“Well anyway,” for once I was glad for Veronica interrupting, “Let’s start with everyone introducing themselves.” I stepped back into my position, glad to have a camera between me and the group, it was easier to hide my embarrassment that way.

I focused the camera on my coffee shop mystery man, “Hello,” he glanced into the camera, “My name is RM, I’m kind of like a leader and translator for this group.”

Note: Sorry this is a lot of fluff! But don’t worry, there will be a lot more BTS in the upcoming chapters (and some potential smut ;)).

Also, about the name change.... I really like the song “I like me better” by Lauv, and I think I’ll be using that song as inspiration for the story moving forward. Let me know what you think, and if you like this style of having a character, or if you would like bts/reader stories.

13 notes · View notes