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annoyingstupidmiracle · 3 years

Text

Frat Boy- l.r.h.

CONTAINS SMUT...OBVIOUSLYY

Word Count: 2813

I hope y’all enjoy ;) Lmk what you think, and I DO accept requests!!!

I sighed while thumbing through the stack of papers on the desk that were waiting to be completed. I was currently working on physics- my worst subject. As soon as I began to work, a crowd of voices entered the room. Turning around, I encountered my sorority sisters who were all laughing. Yeah, I’m a sorority girl. We’re all apart of Alpha Phi, the hot girls who did well in their classes, but didn’t choose the big majors, and we partied... a lot. Which is exactly why I’m having trouble with my subjects, because I had gone to class hungover from the Frat party we went to last week.

“I heard there’s a Frat party tonight.” One of the girls, Leah, said to the group. I instantly stopped writing and listened in on the conversation.

“Yeah, isn’t it at Alpha Delta?” Another girl asked. My heart instantly dropped. There had been one of the frat boys that shared nearly every class with me, which was another reason I hadn’t been able to get all of my work done. He was the most attractive person I had ever seen, and I couldn’t concentrate around him.

Checking the time, I silently cursed to myself. My last class of the day started in nearly 15 minutes, which also happens to be one of the classes I share with the Adonis. I shoved my earbuds in my ears and gathered my textbooks before exiting the house. I hurried across campus to the correct building, just when the door swung open, knocking me back and causing the books to drop from my arms to the ground. Stumbling, I tore the earbuds from my ears and went to yell at the person who was in such a hurry to leave the building but came up speechless as my eyes met the blue ones of the special frat boy, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

“(y/n)?” He spoke causing my mouth to run dry. My heartbeat harshly in my chest as I stared at him.

“H-How do you know my name?” I asked finally after moments of silence.

“We have pretty much every class together, you know?” I nodded, still allowing my eyes to bore into his. “And I see you at all the parties.”

“Yeah, my sorority sisters make me go.”

“Ah, not a partier then?”

I shrug. “Depends on my mood, I guess.” He smiles at my response before crouching down to gather my textbooks.

“Well, then I hope I can put you in the mood to come to my frat’s party tonight?”

“We’ll see,” I say with a smirk, finally gaining my confidence back.

“We will.” He replies, smiling back at me. He stood back up and extended his arms that held my books in them. I pulled them into my chest and watched as he opened the door for me to enter. I decided to sit myself in the middle row so I didn’t drag too much attention to myself, but just enough so that the professor will think I’m listening enough to not call on me.

The door of the classroom opened again, and a loud laugh followed. There, entering the building was Calum Hood. Another frat boy, who was also part of the same frat as the pretty blonde boy across the room. They walked up to one another, joking around and shoving one another in the isle of seats. I was pushed out of my daze by a hand squeezing my upper arm.

“See something you like- or should I say someone?” I turned around and met the mischievous eyes of Ashton Irwin, my sorority sister Leah’s, boyfriend.

“Shut the hell up.” I grumbled.

“I hear his frat is having a party tonight.”

I nod, gulping at the thought. “Yeah, they are. What’s it to you?”

“Leah told me. She also told me that you have the hots for-” Before he could say anything further, I cupped a hand over his mouth.

“I swear, if you ruin this-” I was cut off by him licking the palm of my hand causing me to move it away from him. “You’re disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as the sex you’re-”

“What about sex?” A perky voice questioned while plopping in the seat beside me. I groaned, turning to who I already knew was Michael.

“You guys are going to ruin this for me.”

“Ruin what exactly?” Mikey asked. Ashton nodded his head over at the blonde who was talking to Calum.

“Miss (y/n) has a crush on our boy Luke.” I let my head fall into my hands and sighed.

“I don’t have a crush on him. I just- think he’d look good like... I don’t know. In my bed?”

Mikey laughed. “And your car, and in the shower-”

“Okay, okay. Can you guys please stop giving me shit?” I begged.

“Alright, students!” A loud voice boomed through the room. We all stopped our conversations and faced the professor. “Today, we’re learning about the reproductive system!” Ah, right, anatomy. Of course, it had to be today that we learned how the penis ejaculates.

I ran my fingers through my now curled (h/c) hair as I stared at my makeup that Leah had done for me. She sat back with her arms crossed and a smirk spread across her face. “Well, don’t you look hotter than before.”

I laughed, “thanks. I’m fucking nervous.”

“Babe, Luke won’t be able to control himself. You know how he is.” I sighed. Yeah, Luke was the type to get around on campus. That’s why I hated myself for having growing feelings for the guy. I usually avoided going to the same parties as him, but I couldn’t avoid the sexual tension for long. I used to tutor him, our sophomore year, it took everything in me not to drop on my knees. He had me weak every time I saw him. Everyone could see it, hell, I think he could too.

“You really think so?”

“Have you not heard the things he’s said about you?” I shook my head. “Well, maybe if you didn’t have your earbuds in your ears all the damn time, you’d know.”

I blushed at her words and stood up, finally ready. I had fishnet tights over my legs along with a tight black dress that stopped barely midthigh. Platform heels decorated my feet and strapped up my ankles. Along with it all, I decided against any sort of undergarments in hopes that I’d get lucky with a specific hot blonde.

“Alright, I’m ready.” Leah grinned and dragged me out the door. We walked for a few minutes along the sidewalk in the cool October air until we finally met with the huge fraternity. They had a huge sheet with spray painted Greek lettering on it in order to stick out to everyone attending the party. The sun had already set and people were walking up the path to the double doors of the house. Ashton was waiting, leaning against one of the pillars of the house while chatting with Michael and Calum. I gulped, squeezing the arm of Leah who gave me a reassuring look.

“You’ll be fine, just go in and take a few shots.” I nodded and followed her up to the boys.

“Ah, you actually came!” Calum cheered while staring at me.

“Me?” I asked.

“Yeah, Luke said he invited you.” He said with a grin. “You look good, by the way.” And with that, he walked inside. Leah looked over at me and smirked.

“I told you they think you’re hot.” She says while elbowing my side. I giggled and rolled my eyes.

“Alright, Mikey. Come in and take some shots with me.”

“You convinced me. Let’s go.”

We walked inside and were instantly met with the dank smell of weed and booze. I took a deep breath in order to get used to the smell and looked around. I seemed to be one of very few girls who decided to dress like this for a party, but I didn’t mind. Eyes trailed behind me as I walked, and I loved it. One of the many perks of being apart of Alpha Phi.

“Damn, (y/n), you’re like a fucking celebrity.” Mikey joked while nudging me. I finally reached the alcohol and poured us each a shot of some Pink Whitney. We clinked our glasses together and threw our heads back, letting the harsh liquid flow down our throats. I clenched my eyes together, shaking my head.

“Alright, another one.” Mikey grabbed the bottle, laughing at my words as he poured the alcohol into the small glass. With another tilt of my head, my second shot was down then a third and a fourth only minutes later.

“(y/n)?” I turned around towards the voice and met with Luke who stood there with an unopened beer in his hand.

“And that’s my queue to leave.” Mikey said while walking away.

“I came.” I told him while gesturing to myself.

“Yeah, you look hot.” He compliments, eyeing my form a few times to take in my appearance.

I swallowed my pride and smiled at him, “so do you.”

Luke seemed to think for a second before speaking. “Do you want to grab a beer and go out on the balcony with me?” He asked, shocking me.

“I, uh, yeah. Sure.” Bending down into the cooler, I felt his eyes on me the entire time. I smirked, wrapping my hands around a cold can and stood back up. He reached out to grab my hand and lead me through the large crowd of people up the stairs. There were a few straggling drunks in the hallway of the second story, but no one that was watching as he took me out the double doors of the balcony. I cracked open the can and sipped on the beer nervously, waiting to see what his plan was.

“So, is this the part where you kill me?” I joke while watching as he popped his can open as well.

“Actually, it’s the part where I tell you what I want to do to you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said, I just wanted to talk.” What the fuck am I thinking? Nodding, I allowed him to go on. “I wanted to hang out with you alone, but a party is fine too.”

“Mhm,” I mumble against the cold can of beer against my lips. Luke seemed to let his eyes trail down my legs covered in the lacey material before throwing his head back.

“Fuck the small talk.”

“What do you-“ Before I could finish my sentence, he had taken three intimidating steps towards me and cupped my cheek in his hand, pressing his lips against mine. My heartbeat sped up, and my stomach flipped as well. I didn’t hesitate to let my free hand tangle in the back of his hair, pulling at the ends. He groaned against my lips before eventually pulling away. Looking down into my eyes, he searched them for some sort of reaction. I blinked innocently up at the frat boy and smiled.

“I can’t get your gorgeous face out of my head, (y/n).”

“Thank god.” He cocked his head in confusion, so I elaborated. I took a few chugs of my beer before finishing it and tossing the can to the ground. “I really, really want you.”

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He nearly growls under his breath before grabbing my wrist and taking me back inside to what I’m assuming is his bedroom. Without another word, he closed and locked the door behind me before pressing me against it. I gasped with surprise but felt nothing but pleasure as he lifted me up by my thighs and carried me over to the bed. I plopped down onto the mattress and watched as he tore his shirt from his body and discarded it to the side.

Luke curled his fingers around the edge of my dress and pulled it up over my waist. I stared at him to get his reaction when he notices- “You’re not wearing any… Did you expect this to happen?” He questioned with a laugh.

I nodded, bringing my bottom lip between my teeth. “I hoped it would.”

“With me?” I nodded again. His eyes flickered down to my womanhood before starting to pull down my tights. One they were down my legs, he looked back up at me and put two fingers between his lips, letting his spit drench them before inserting them inside of me. I jerked upwards, leaning up on my elbows as my mouth fell open in an ‘o.’ “You like that?”

“Mhm, yeah.” I moaned causing him to thrust them in and out of me. I allowed myself to relax as I grew wetter by the second. After a few seconds, he added his mouth which only made me moan louder. His tongue flattened against my clit, circling around it in a pattern that drew me close to the edge. He was amazing with his mouth. “L-Luke, please.” I begged, but he didn’t stop. Although I wanted to cum around him, I couldn’t help it. He wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked while curling his fingers inside of me. My chest heaved up and down as my thighs attempted to clench together while my climax approached. He used his free hand to keep my legs from closing and felt as they shook at his touch. “Fuck!” I screamed out. He chuckled against me before sitting up and pushing me farther on the bed. With quick hands, he pulled my dress over my head and stared at my chest.

“No bra either?” I smiled cheekily up at him before his hands came down and groped my breasts. I reached down and unbuttoned his jeans before sliding them down his legs revealing his name brand boxers. I nearly drooled at the size of the bulge before palming him through the thin material. Carefully, I pulled his member out and pumped him a few times. “God, your hands feel so good.”

“I bet my mouth would feel better.” I say confidently. He looked at me with his eyebrows raised as I switched my position so that I was sitting up. I parted my lips enough to allow him to slide in my mouth. I dragged my lips down to his shaft, my nose brushing against the happy trail against his navel. Groaning, Luke tangled his hand in my hair, pushing my head down slightly. The tip brushed the back of my throat, allowing for more spit to lubricate his member. I pulled off him and looked up.

“I know what would feel even better.” Luke says before pushing my shoulders back against the bed, pinning me underneath him. Spreading my legs, I waited for him to slide past my entrance and let an erotic moan erupt from my throat as he did. “Yeah, much better.”

“Please,” I whined.

“Please what?” Luke smirked. He knew what he was doing.

“Please fuck me, Luke. I need you so bad.” And with that, he slammed himself in me all the way. Our moans filled the room as well as the sound of skin slapping together. I lifted one of my legs up and rested it on his shoulder as he pounded in and out of me. My back arched against the mattress as my nails scratched the skin on his back, clearly leaving marks. Without warning, he pulled out of me.

“If I go any longer, I’ll bust so hang on.” I laughed at his words and waited for him to grab a condom. Once he did, he slid it over him and lined himself back up with my entrance. Grabbing the backs of my thighs, he held onto them as he began to slam himself in and out of me constantly, and roughly. I reached a hang down between my legs and rubbed at my clit to get myself closer to the edge, knowing he was close as well.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” I whimper. Luke chuckles and spreads my legs even wider, hiking them over his shoulders before leaning down against me. His lips latched onto mine, getting me closer to my orgasm. My body begins to shake as I reach my second climax of the night, feeling him twitch inside me as he reaches his as well.

“Good fucking girl.” Luke growled, watching me writhe beneath him. I breathed out, finally able to catch my breath and looked at the blonde through tired eyes.

“I thought you were good in bed, but not that good.” I admitted causing him to chuckle.

“Glad to meet your expectations.” After throwing away the condom, he pulled his pants back over his legs and tossed me a clean shirt that was neatly folded on the nightstand. I looked at him with confusion.

“What’s this for?”

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere tonight- or for a while.”

Laughing, I slid the shirt over my head so that it draped over my bare torso. “So, that means what exactly?”

“I’m gonna make you mine, whether you like it or not.”

“Not complaining.”

#luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagines #luke 5sos #5sos smut

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fific7 · 3 years

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Ticket to Ride - Part 2

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The aircraft door opened and you stepped out gratefully onto the air jetty. You weren’t scared of flying, you just didn’t like being cooped up in a flying tube for several hours on end. Up an escalator and along a short corridor and then you were able to see outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky was beginning to shade into the colours it would take on for dusk. It looked like it had been a nice day and you hoped the good weather would continue for your stay.

Karen had texted you while you were sitting on the plane at JFK, waiting for it to push back. Frank had told her that Micro had tracked your phone to the airport so boy, were you glad you’d turned off your old phone and switched to the new one when you did. She’d also told you that Billy had asked him to find out where you were headed, and your heart sank. You knew it wouldn’t take long for Micro’s vast and nerdy computer skills to find you but then again, London was a huge city and they’d have no idea whereabouts in it you’d gone to ground, thanks to your new ‘burner phone’.

You were feeling super-excited. This was beginning to feel like an action movie, with you on the run from the bad guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“London??!!” Billy shouted, making Frank quickly move his phone away from his ear on the other end. “Yeah, London,” he replied.

Billy was back at his usual post by the window. “I mean... obviously I knew she was gonna fly somewhere but I thought it would the West coast, Miami, Seattle, Alaska... somewhere like that. But to go to a whole other continent....!!!!” Frank sighed, “Yeah, Bill, sounds like she’s really not keen to bump into you anytime soon.” “Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me.” “Bill, you brought this on yourself, buddy.” “I know!” yelled Billy, “An’ all I wanna do is get her back and make it up to her for the rest of my life, and all I know is she’s in London! Do you know how big that place is?” “Yeah, I do. And t’be honest... I dunno how you’re gonna even try to find her over there.”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “I mean...” Frank continued, “I’m guessin’ you are gonna go over there and try to find her, Bill?”

Billy’s shoulder twitched upwards briefly, and he stared intently out the window at the New York skyline.

“Yeah, Frankie... yeah, I damn well am.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d left two of your big suitcases and the backpacks in a luggage storage facility at JFK, travelling with just the one suitcase and a large shoulder bag. You took the overground Heathrow Express to Paddington before negotiating a change onto the Tube to reach Tower Hill DLR station, boarding one of the driverless trains out to Canary Wharf. Settling back into your seat, feeling pretty proud of yourself for managing not to get hopelessly lost.

Your AirBnB apartment was in a part of the city called Docklands, beside the Thames on the Isle of Dogs. It was an area of shiny skyscraper offices and fancy apartment blocks built round the old docks, and your accommodation for the next two weeks was in one of those. You were suitably impressed when you got inside it... open plan, all trendy furniture and gleaming fittings. Big, big windows with views of the river and the tall buildings.

Your phone chimed and you saw a text from Karen on your notifications. Taking your suitcase and bag into the bedroom, you went back out to the main area and sat on the sofa to read it. Oh. Billy now knew you were in London, and had apparently booked a flight over - he’d be arriving tomorrow. Your heart rate sped up; Billy was a sniper, used to finding, stalking, watching his prey. But, you told yourself, he had no idea whereabouts in the city you were and no way of finding you.

Relax.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy stepped off the Heathrow Express, looking around for signs indicating where the taxi rank was. He’d been looking at the Tube map during the train journey. Nah, fuck that.

He was too wired to even think about getting to London Bridge on the Underground, or ‘Tube’ as he found out Londoners called it. His brain had been working overtime trying to figure out how the hell he was going to find her in a city the size of London. She’d stay central, surely - she wouldn’t head to the suburbs, he felt confident of that.

Getting into the first taxi in the queue, he drawled out, “The Shard, please.” The taxi driver nodded and pulled away from the station without saying anything. Thank fuck, thought Billy, I can’t be dealing with a talker right now. But just as the thought had left his head, the driver’s London accent said, “First time in London, guv?” Billy sighed, “No. No, it isn’t.” In fact it was, but he wasn’t about to tell the driver that. He’d only end up getting taken on the ‘scenic route’, double the time, double the price.

The driver grunted and turned up the radio... really annoying music could now be heard but Billy would take that over inane small talk any day. He looked out of the windows at the city streets and his mind went back to his mission. Mission impossible. Finally he saw the river and the taxi crossed a wide bridge before pulling up outside the lofty skyscraper that was The Shard. According to the blurb he’d read on some travel website it was the tallest in Western Europe, and while there were taller buildings in New York, the shape of this one made it look quite dramatic.

He paid and got out of the taxi with his expensive wheeled duffel bag, heading to the Shangri La entrance of The Shard and going inside. (It’s one of the priciest hotels in London - of course). Checked in at reception on the 35th floor, he was then whisked up to his room on the 52nd by another express lift. The windows were huge and the views spectacular.

Once again, he was gazing out of a window at a cityscape.

Where is she?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your first full day, you occupied yourself with getting to know the surrounding area, doing some grocery shopping and sitting on your large balcony, enjoying the view and relaxing with a glass of wine.

Every time a plane went overhead you wondered if Billy was on it - he was due here today. You shook yourself a little, you’d just have to stop thinking about it. He wouldn’t find you.

Your mind wandered unbidden to his recent behaviour. Knowing Billy was a player from day one, you’d still got involved with him. More fool you. Another old cliché.... you thought you’d be the one to change him. And you thought you had. You’d dated him for a few months, he seemed to have ditched his old hound-dog ways and when he’d asked you to move in with him, you’d agreed without thinking it over too deeply.

Now, looking back, it seems like you’d made a big mistake.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Micro had spent quite some time constructing a query table that he could run against accommodation reservations in London for her arrival day. She had no reason to book under another name and he’d just have to run with that assumption.

When Billy had come directly to him instead of going via Frank to ask that he try and track down her reservation, Micro had been too scared to refuse. Billy still really unsettled him - he always reminded him of a circling predator.

This query would take a while to run. He hit the go button and wandered off to work on another project while it tunnelled its way through layer upon layer of data.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was pacing his swanky hotel room like a caged panther. He’d given up on the idea of roaming the streets of London trying to spot his target, that was just one dumbass idea. He’d never find her that way, much better to just wait on that geeky twat to come up with the answer with his internet wizardry.

He’d spoken to Frank earlier, who had nothing new to report. Billy wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty at cutting him out of the loop on his recent ask to Micro. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Frank wouldn’t mention it to Karen. Much as he loved him like a brother, Frank was a big sap when it came to Karen and he knew he’d give in and tell her, probably sooner rather than later.

However Frank had told him that Madani had called earlier that day, wanting to know where Billy was and why she couldn’t get in touch with him. Billy had figured out that his girl had got herself a new phone, and he’d followed suit. Which is why Dinah hadn’t been able to reach him. “Whaddya tell her?”he’d asked. “That you were on an overseas operation and were incommunicado.” “Good,” nodded Billy, “....that takes care of that little problem for a while at least,” feeling a sense of relief.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank cut the call, a grim smile on his face. He hadn’t been completely straight with Billy, but it was for his own good. What he’d told Madani, however, had been the unadulterated gospel truth.

He’d said to her that Billy had hared off to Europe in pursuit of his live-in girlfriend, who’d suspected him of cheating on her and left him. He was absolutely determined to get her back.

He’d taken great satisfaction in the dead silence on the other end of the line, eventually punctuated by an angry snort and the call being abruptly ended.

That ‘little problem’ was hopefully taken care of for good.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Micro looked at his phone as it beeped at him, the notification saying that his query was complete. That had taken much longer than he thought it would. Now he could only hope it hadn’t returned too many matches as he’d thought it prudent to run it on surname only.

He pulled up the results table and was pleased to see that there were only a thousand or so, he’d feared there would be many more. He scrolled through the list and quickly pinpointed the one he’d been looking for.

With a deep sigh he picked up his phone, typed “Wood Wharf, Water St, London E14”, a building and apartment number into a new message, then hit send. It would be the early hours of the following morning in London, so he very much doubted that Billy would leap out of bed and head right over there.

He finished eating his supper, drank a beer and settled down to watch TV when his conscience started bothering him. Should he? He shivered when he thought about what Russo might do to him if he found out.

Popping another bottle of beer open, he sat and contemplated what he should do for quite a while. He suddenly picked up his phone, sending a quick text to Frank telling him about the whole situation and including the fact that Russo now had her London address.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

While you were lounging on your balcony, sipping your wine and watching the world go by, it suddenly occurred to you that this would be a great base to work out of for a while. You messaged the estate agent and extended your stay to one month, with an option to extend if required.

Then, on a whim, you booked a flight to Barcelona early the next morning from City Airport - it was really close to your apartment even if the flights were a bit more expensive. You’d been doing a little research into other destinations to explore, and having a base in London to travel to and from made you feel much more comfortable. The W Barcelona had caught your eye while you’d been browsing for accommodation and as you were only going for a few nights, you’d booked in there.

Feeling extremely pleased with yourself, you got up and went into your bedroom, looking for a folded-up smaller travel bag you knew you’d packed in your luggage. Finding it, you began to choose some outfits for your short trip, thinking what a joy it was that you could now leave your large suitcase here.

But damn, you were going to have to be up early tomorrow. Best to get an early night, you thought, immediately yawning.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy shot up in bed as his phone chimed with Micro’s text. When he read the information in the text, contrary to Micro’s belief he did leap out of bed and started pulling on his clothes (Micro had forgotten that this was an ex-Marine he was dealing with here).

He sat back down on the bed and googled the location. Oh okay, East London.... Docklands. Too far to walk and he didn’t think the Tube ran at this hour. Then he pulled up the Uber app and booked an immediate pick-up.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Walking into the terminal building at City Airport, you were in the middle of a total yawning fit when a text came in. It was from Karen and you stopped, putting down your bag so you could read it.

Karen: Sorry to tell you this hon, but Billy went direct to Micro 🙄 and intimidated him into finding your London accom. Frank’s told him not to do that again no matter how much he’s shitting himself! Please take care of yourself 💋

You: Bastard 👿 thanks for the heads-up, I will do 😘

Picking your bags up again, you hurried over to one of the automated check-in machines to get your luggage tag.

Whoever had said ‘timing is everything’ had definitely got that right.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“Oi!!!” yelled an irate male voice. Billy turned his head to see a groggy-looking tousle-haired guy, obviously just having been woken up. “Keep the noise down!”

Billy said nothing, just gave the guy his death stare. His head quickly disappeared back inside his apartment.

After pressing the buttons of a few apartment numbers at the main entrance, someone had buzzed him in and he’d been pounding on her apartment door for the last five minutes. But there was no response, and he knew she wasn’t that heavy a sleeper.

He slid tiredly down onto the floor outside her door. Had she somehow known he was on his way over here? No.... how would she know that?

His head dropped down in momentary defeat and he ran his fingers through his hair, groaning.

She hadn’t moved on already, had she?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The plane lifted off the tarmac, and immediately you felt a huge sense of relief. You just weren’t ready to see Billy right now - you’d probably kill him if you did, ex-Marine or not.

Now you were off on your next adventure.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes #the punisher 💀

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rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one where Y/n’s a tease

Part 4 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

I now realise the general theme is Y/n not being able to find her keys.

Whoever invented sundresses either needed a medal or slap. Bucky was in agony. The city was in the middle of a heat wave and neither of you could get comfy. You’d taken to dressing in sundresses every day, the soft fabric having a tendency to rise higher and higher up your legs throughout the day. There was something about the way they hung on every curve, how they framed your chest and revealed inch upon inch of tanned skin.

You’d met one another in Central Park, intending on grabbing an ice cream and relaxing in the sun after a challenging day at work.

“He’s such a dick, I can’t see how they can make it compulsory to attend but won’t pay over time!”

Bucky merely nodded in response; he’d quickly learnt you’d rather he listen to your rants than fix your issues.

“If I could change jobs I’d do it in a heartbeat” You continued as you reached the front of the icecream queue.

“Hi, one strawberry and one mint choc chip please - oh and make the mint one two scoops” Bucky dug around in his back pocket before pulling out his wallet, handing over a few bills to the server. “Thank you.” He took both cones and handed you your favourite.

“I’ll get the next one” You promised. Without thinking, you took a long lick of your icecream, moaning as the coldness hit your tongue.

Bucky choked.

“C’mon lets get somewhere cooler, you look hot” Your eyes bugged out as you realised what you’d said. “I mean you look warm! With your long sleeves and gloves!” You were quick to correct yourself which earnt a chuckle from the man besides you.

It didn’t take long for you both to reach a quiet vacant area which offered a gratuitous amount of privacy. Dropping down onto the grass, you stretched your legs out as you continued eating your icecream.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked, holding out his cone. You took it from him as he peeled his gloves off, sighing as the gentle breeze hit his fingers. He then began trying to roll up the sleeves on his henley, grunting in frustration as it got caught on his forearm.

You glanced around double checking there was no one in sight before offering a solution. “You could just take it off, would do your skin some good, getting a bit of colour”

Taking another lick of your icecream you attempted to look indifferent on the matter.

Bucky took a hold of the bottom of his shirt before pausing.

“What’s up?” You asked, taking another bite from your ice cream.

“The scar isn’t the prettiest to look at.” He confessed, his head bowed in embarrassment.

Your elbow jutted out and nudged him, forcing him to look back at you “Hey… it’s only me” You smiled back at him, trying to reassure him how little you cared about the scar.

He smiled back before taking the plunge and lifted the shirt over his head. You tried, you really did but you couldn’t help but stare at his chest. To say he was ripped would be an understatement. You weren’t overly bothered when it came to body types but fuckkk his was doing something to you.

Snapping yourself out of your trance you noticed how his shoulders hunched over, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Trust me when I say this Buck, no one will be looking at your scar.” You laughed, fanning yourself in an attempt to boost his confidence and take the edge off.

He chuckled in response and visibly relaxed, the pink in his cheeks growing from not only the heat.

You handed him his ice-cream back and returned to your earlier conversation. Your prick of a boss had reiterated today how important it was you attended the charity gala that night, some bullshit about being a team player.

In the midst of yet another rant, Bucky hadn’t been able to take your eyes off you. You looked radiant in the sun, a single bead of sweat every now and again trailed from your neck, down into the valley of your breasts. It took all his self discipline to not reach over and have a taste. And then there was the damned ice cream. He shouldn’t have ordered you two scoops as you took your sweet time licking and sucking on it, completely oblivious to the show you were putting on for him. What he’d do to replace that ice-cream with - no he couldn’t let his mind wander there. He felt his cock twitch as he watched you swallow the cream, your throat bobbing with the motion.

“I reckon if I implement the Jim Halbert approach I’ll be home by ten”

“The what now?”

“Jim? From The Office?”

“You’ve lost me doll. I don’t remember you mentioning Jim before? Is he in Legal?”

“It’s a TV show, he basically said you should have a memorable moment with the host and take a photo to prove you were there. Once that’s done you can leave without it being questioned.” You handed Bucky your empty cone without question, it had become somewhat of a habit. You ordered two scoops and he finished off your cone.

He took it from you and finished it in a couple of bites.

“Well if you make it through and get home early enough I’ll order us some pizza and we’ll spend the rest of the night watching The Office, deal?”

“Deal”

_______________________________________________

You made it back in record time. You laughed, even danced with a few people, took a couple of photos and was there for when your boss got slapped by one of the waiting staff much to your delight. In and out in under 2 hours!

“Hey Buck! Have you ordered yet?” You yelled as you knocked on his apartment door, looking for your keys with your other hand. “C’mon where are you” You muttered.

Bucky's door swung open and was instantly stunned at your appearance. He hadn’t seen you before you left for the evening and he was glad he hadn’t as he was sure he would’ve crossed a line. Your dress was strapless and fell to the floor, hugging every curve you had. The black velvet looked soft to touch and flattered your chest.

“Wow”

Your head snapped up and looked back at the man in front of you. His eyes trailed up from your legs, over your stomach and to your chest before meeting your eyes.

“How do I scrub up?” You joked, giving him a twirl.

“Beautiful doll” Your cheeks flushed at his compliment and you looked back into your purse, struggling to locate your keys.

“Can I come in?”

He stepped to the side and gestured you in. Once in his kitchen you turned your purse upside down, realising your worst fear. “Oh god, this can’t be happening.”

“Whats up?” Bucky decided to torture himself and stood behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I’ve left my key in my apartment” Not realising how close he was, you leant forward, your head falling into your hands as your elbows rested on the counter. Unintentionally, your ass had stuck out, pressing back into Bucky's crotch. The super soldier couldn’t believe his eyes, it was as though the very fantasy he’d played out in his head countless times was finally coming true. From this angle he couldn't help but imagine gripping your hair as he pounded into your tight pussy, filling his apartment with your screams as you milked his cock for all its worth.

Before he could get away from himself he took a step backwards, despite every fibre of his being screaming at him not to.

He wasn’t the only one affected as butterflies exploded in your stomach, your core aching with the possibilities of what lied beneath his jeans. But, before you had a moment to enjoy it, the moment was over and Bucky, ever the gentleman, had stepped aside.

“I’ll call the super” You grumbled.

“I’ll order the pizza” He replied all too quickly.

20 minutes later and you were at your wits end. It took forever to get through to the super and when you eventually did, you were hardly reassured by his response. He’d advised he would try and get to you within the next two hours but he wasn’t making any promises - so much for looking after your tenants.

“Am I okay to hang out here with you until he arrives?”

Bucky simply raised his eyebrow, finding it amusing you’d even have to ask.

“Thanks Buck” Lifting your hands to your hair, you started removing the pins, letting your head relax. Whilst putting your hair down you couldn't hide your discomfort in your dress as it restricted your movement.

“Do you want to borrow some clothes?”

“That would be amazing”

You watched as he went off into his bedroom - could you even call it that considering there wasn’t a bed? You sighed in relief as you ran your fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp, welcoming the relief.

“I’ve left them in the bathroom for you”

“Thanks Buck” You flicked your heels off your tired feet before padding into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to change into the sleep shorts and t-shirt he’d given you. Using your hair tie, you tightened the pants to stop them from falling down. Rolling your bra into your dress, you returned from the bathroom feeling far better than you did when you entered.

“Better?” He asked, pizza box in hand as he pulled two plates from the cupboard

“Much” You replied, sitting down on one of the dining chairs.

An hour later and you were both stuffed and the effect of the beers you’d been stealing from Buckys fridge were starting to have an effect.

“C’monnnn it will be fun!” You whined as you tried your best to tuck your toes under Buckys leg in an attempt to warm them up.

With a sigh he lifted your feet from under him and stood from his seated position, heading back towards his bedroom. Returning a moment later, he resumed his original position and started slowly slipping socks onto your cold toes.

“I’m waiting doll”

His voice snapped you out of your trance - you’d been watching his every movement, how he gently cradled your feet as he slid a sock onto each one before squeezing them gently.

“Okay, I’m going to fire these over to you quickly so just respond with whatever comes to mind okay?”

He nodded in response.

You scrolled through the list on your phone before settling on a set of questions.

“Favourite snack?”

“Cashews”

“Favourite Avenger?”

“Cap”

“Least favourite Avenger?”

“Hawkeye”

“Huh wow didn’t - anyway! Age you had your first kiss?”

“12”

“Age you lost your virginity?”

“17”

“Favourite place?”

“Wakanda”

“Any secret talents?”

“I can play the piano”

“Really?”

Bucky nodded in response, taking another swig of his beer.

“Cats or dogs?”

“Cats”

“Favourite neighbour?”

“Y/N”

You smiled at that one before becoming a little bit braver.

“Favourite position” You asked, mumbling your words as you quickly took a sip of your drink.

“What was that?”

“Favourite...position” You repeated, meeting his eyes.

Bucky gulped, his eyes not moving from yours. “Cow girl when I’m generous, missionary when I’m in control”

You blinked a couple of times, your mind racing as you processed his words.

“Good..too...uh… know” You gulped before racing to the next question, trying your best to not think about just what he meant by generous and in control. “City or country?”

“Country”

“Bike or car?”

Before he could respond your phone chirped, signalling a notification. Glancing down, you read the message - Won’t be able to make it tonight, will try and get there in the morning

“Fuck.” You muttered, clearing the notification from your screen.

“What’s up?”

“I won’t be getting into my apartment until tomorrow, do you mind if I stay here?”

Bucky looked towards his bedroom, his heart sinking when he remembered he didn’t have a bed. Reading his expression, you began “The floor is fine, I don’t mind-”

“No” he replied, cutting you off. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky thought it was bad enough you had to hang out in his sorry excuse for an apartment but hell would freeze over before he allowed you to sleep on the hard floor. “I’ve got an idea.”

You watched as Bucky opened his door and walked out into the hallway. He started fiddling with the window which filled the back wall between your two apartments; the lock snapping under his strength. Lifting it up, he swung his leg over the ledge, landing on the fire escape.

“Buck, what are you doing?” You whispered, conscious of your neighbours and the late hour.

He took a step backwards and leant down, his face visible through the window as he stared at you, his eyebrow raised slightly as though he was wondering if you really just asked that.

“Just… be careful okay?”

He nodded in response and went back to the task at hand.

A few seconds later you heard another snap and the sound of your window opening. Moments later your apartment door swung open with a smug Bucky on the other side.

“My hero” You beamed up at him, your appreciation evident on your face.

You quickly went back into his apartment, gathering your things in your arms.

“I’ve wedged the window shut so you’re safe for the night, I’ll get you a replacement lock in the morning.”

Returning to your apartment, you dumped your belongings on the side table, turning back to Bucky. “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You confessed, overcome with admiration. Before you lost your nerve, you pressed your body against his, your arms looping around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You held in a sigh as you felt his arms respond and wrap around your waist, returning your embrace. Rather reluctantly, you pulled back as did Bucky, his arms returning back to his sides.

“Goodnight doll”

“Night Bucky”

You slowly closed your door and smiled to yourself. Tugging his sleep pants down your legs, you folded them up and left them on top of your discarded dress. After completing your nightly routine, you sank into your soft bed sheets, inhaling Bucky’s scent left behind on his tshirt, silently wishing it was himself wrapped around your naked body and not his top.

#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #tfatws

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

$1 Smooches

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Everlark and a Kissing Booth [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Modern AU. ~1600 words _____________

“That game was rigged!” Katniss seethed.

“Lower your voice, Brainless! Do you want the carnies to curse you? I don’t, I’m standing right next to you!” Johanna hissed, slapping a hand over Katniss’ mouth.

“I’m sure carnival workers consider that a derogatory term,” Prim sighed, done with her companions silliness.

“Anything is offensive nowadays,” said Johanna, winded, after Katniss shoved her away.

Katniss scowled, giving another shove for good measure, “Cut it out, Johanna!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “You are aware, this is a charity event benefiting the hospital I work for, right? all booths are operated by volunteering hospital employees, which means the ring-the-bottle game wasn’t rigged,” Prim stared pointedly at her sister, “and nobody is getting cursed!” She glared at Johanna next, “Behave!”

There was nothing Katniss hated more than disappointing her baby sister. “I’m sorry, Prim, we’ll be better,” Katniss glared at her friend, “Right Jo?”

“Fine! But I demand a greasy, deep fried treat, and a big sugary drink to go with it!”

“Yay!” Primrose clapped, hooking her slender arms through her sister and friend’s elbows, “Lets have some fun!”

The trio came to a food booth, Prim piped in, “I’ll ordered us a funnel cake and two giant lemonades, you guys go find another game, I don’t mind waiting in line,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…and then we can go to the booth my department set up. My favorite nurse in the whole world is manning it!”

Katniss and Johanna walked past the inflatables and the bouncy castle, trying not to bump into families with rambunctious children, and then, they saw a ridiculously loud-excuse-of-an-eyesore-shack painted in pepto pink, decked to the gills with giant red and pink hearts sprouting from every corner of the stand, and a large, white sign crowning the top, announcing: “$1 Smooches”, spelled in blinking light bulbs, with a neon yellow arrow pointing downwards.

“A kissing booth?” Johanna arched her eyebrows, curiously.

The queue to the booth was very long and to Katniss’ surprise, composed mostly by female patrons.

“What. Is. that?!” Gasped Johanna, pointing to the booth while fanning herself with her free hand. Without further comment, Jo grabbed Katniss’ hand and marched straight for the kissing booth line.

“What—?”

“Come on Brainless, I have two singles in my wallet and a tube of chapstick ready for the hunk selling kisses!”

Katniss was momentarily confused, until she saw a muscular man with a boyish, lopsided smile, taking a crisp dollar bill from a very enthusiastic woman; a second later, the man puckered up his pink lips, and leaned forward, just outside the big window of the booth, forearms flexing deliciously against the sleeves of his polo shirt; a wayward curl of his ashy blonde hair fell over his forehead in just the right way.

“Oh!” Katniss gulped, falling into step with her best friend.

The line advanced impressively fast, for how long it was. In a matter of minutes, which was truly appreciated, since nobody particularly enjoyed being sandwiched between the baking sun and the suffocating blacktop of the lot. The girls were second to next line, but Johanna started sneezing uncontrollably, thanks to the cigarette smoke of a passerby.

“Ugh! This is a hospital’s parking lot! A no smoke zone!” Jo rasped angrily, “Here!” She shoved a balled up wad of cash into Katniss’ hands, and before her friend could stop her, she went after the smoking a-hole, to rip him a new one.

Katniss found herself at the front of line very suddenly, and the man beckoned her forward, lopsided grin, so inviting, she stepped up without consciously deciding to.

The man studied her quizzically for a moment, “Hello, there,” he greeted, “Are you an employee at Panem General, or are you a guest? You look familiar,” he said.

“Guest,” Katniss answered, a little too fast. She stepped backwards, rethinking her situation, the woman directly behind her, gave her a weak push forward, to keep her from stepping on her toes.

The man looked at the ball of cash in Katniss’ hands and smiled brightly. “Would you like to make a donation to Panem General’s pediatric wing? Every dollar counts,” he said softly.

Katniss nodded bashfully, not really understanding his words, too preoccupied with how velvety soft the man’s voice was. She handed him the whole wad, which apparently was $5 in crinkled $1 bills.

The guy took only one, and placed the rest of the money on the counter, next to Katniss’ hand, before leaning forward to brush his lips against Katniss’.

There was no telling how long the kiss lasted, but judging by the aggravated buzzing of complaints coming from behind Katniss, it had been long enough to warrant an annoyed calling out.

“Hey! Stop holding up the smooches!”

Katniss opened her eyes, shifting down to the ball of her feet. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and stretched on the tip of her toes during her kiss. She stared at the guy, who looked slightly dazed as he admired her back; his smile seemed even more crooked than before.

“Oh my gosh, you found our booth!” Prim cried out, startling Katniss. “Oh, and you met nurse Mellark!”

“What?!” The crowd behind Katniss grew restless and annoyed by the second. “I haven’t met any nurses—“

Katniss peered back at the booth suspiciously, expecting to see this nurse her sister spoke so much about, but the only person currently in the booth was the kissable blonde man, watching his sister with arched brows and surprise in his deep blue eyes.

“Hi, Peeta!” Prim waved, the guy in the booth waved back, but the next person in line stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“Wait…” Katniss pulled Prim further out, before the mob of angry women throttled them, “That man is nurse Mellark?” She asked, pointing back as discreetly as she could; the man was looking at them with badly veiled concern, while still trying to do his job, as host of the smooching booth. “You mean to tell me, the handsome man kissing half the fair is the nurse Mellark you’re always gushing about, with the home baked cookies and the cute little drawings for the oncology patients?” Her gray eyes x-rayed her sister.

“Uh, yeah,” Prim sounded a bit too nonchalant. “He’s amazing, let me tell you,” she sort of mumbled, studying her cuticles.

“Hey! What did I miss?” Johanna came back munching on a box of nachos, swimming in melted cheese. “Oooh! Elephant ear!” She said, snatching the funnel cake Prim was holding awkwardly.

“Primrose forgot to mention that her most favorite nurse in the whole world is a HE!” Katniss snapped.

“What?!”

“What’s so wrong about that? Men can be nurses,” Prim shrugged.

“But you didn’t tell me he was a man!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were a sexist pig, Katniss.”

“I am not!”

Johanna giggled, stuffing her face with fair food.

“Nurse Mellark is a great care provider who loves children and does his absolute best to bring joy during the worst time of our patients’ lives…What does it matter if he’s a guy? He’s great! What did you expect anyway?” Prim countered defensively, stubbornly.

“I don’t know! An elderly lady, with lots of motherly wisdom or something… I mean, every time you talked about nurse Mellark, you mentioned delicious homemade pastries, and finger paints, and sweet bedtime stories… I never pictured nurse Mellark to be so…”

“Manly,” Johanna finished, looking at the man in the booth, dreamily, finally having caught on. “He’s more of a tall tree trunk I’d like to climb like a koala bear in heat… now where’s my cash, brainless, my lips are ready for some smacking,”

“Johanna!” Katniss growled, but her friend waved her off. A thought occurred to her just then. “Prim…” Katniss whispered into her sister’s ear, “Are you…okay with this?” She said motioning to the 20 or so women in line. “Are you okay with all these people kissing nurse Mellark?”

Primrose’s lips twitched, “Why wouldn’t I be? This booth was sort of my idea… it was actually more about Doctor Odair selling the kisses, but nurse Mellark was very good sport, volunteering, ” She rolled her blue eyes.

“Mmm… I just thought, maybe you had a thing for him?”

“For Peeta?!” Prim said loudly, before laughing hysterically.

Katniss’ eyes shifted everywhere, and to her chagrin, the man in question— Peeta, apparently— looked up at his name.

“Not so loud!” Katniss hissed, but got interrupted by a booming voice.

“Ladies, it is time for me to take a break.” Announced nurse Mellark— Peeta— A chorus of disgruntled patrons filled the air, but the man raised his hands placatingly, “Not to worry everyone, my pinch hitter, Doctor Odair, is ready to take over!”

As if by magic, the most attractive man Katniss had ever seen in her life— besides the beautiful male nurse, of course— popped from beside nurse Mellark and a collective swooning sigh rapped over the small crowd.

Prim laughed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you guys properly. You’re going to love Peeta!”

“Hell no! I’m paying double for the new guy! You gals go ahead,” Johanna called, wolf whistling at the newcomer, waving two dollar bills in the air.

A moment later, Prim had dragged Katniss to meet her most favorite nurse, secretly crossing her fingers as she made introductions…she thought Peeta and Katniss were perfect for each other, and she wholeheartedly hoped they would kick it off right away, so when she was wrinkly and white haired, she could tell her grand nephews and nieces the story of how their grandma paid a dollar to kiss their grandpa for the very first time.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter 2021 #Valentine’s Day #alliswell21 #submission #prompt

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] 3rd Anniversary Love Carnival - Victor

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Victor’s Prologue: here

3rd Anniversary Masterlist: here

[ PART ONE ]

The moment we step into the carnival venue, my gaze is completely consumed by a gigantic merry-go-round.

MC: What a dream-like merry-go-round! Let’s ride this as our first attraction!

When Victor sees the golden coloured merry-go-round before him, his expression freezes in place for a moment. However, he still stands in the queue with me.

MC: Eh? You’re agreeing just like that?!

MC: “I don't waste my time on such senseless things”.

I mimic Victor, channelling a stern expression.

MC: Don’t you typically say that? Why did you agree so quickly today?

I make a face at him. When Victor sees this, he furrows his brows and gives me a gentle knock on the head.

Victor: Spending my time on a pointless rejection is even more of a waste.

I turn around, glaring at Victor. However, all he does is stare back plainly at me.

Victor: Because of a certain childish individual, my tolerance levels have increased by quite a lot.

I specially pick a double-manned horse. Along with the romantic music, the horses start ascending and descending, moving in a circular motion.

Couples in the surroundings are raising their phones, taking photographs with various poses. Every screen is filled with brilliant smiles.

Somewhat influenced by such an atmosphere, I turn my head to look at Victor.

As expected, Victor, who is sitting on a black steed, looks so stern that it’s as though he’s participating in some investment report meeting.

Sensing the gaze I tossed at him, Victor looks at me.

Victor: What is it?

MC: Victor, do you want to smile a little?

Victor: Why?

MC: Because when people are happy, they’d subconsciously want to smile. In the happiest place on earth, and having such an adorable lady in front of you, don't you feel even the slightest bit of happiness?

Victor: You aren’t humble at all.

Despite what he says, I can clearly see a handsome arc at the corners of his lips.

MC: Can you appreciate the joys of being on a merry-go-round now?

Victor: That’s only if seeing you look silly counts as one of the joys.

MC: Can’t you just honestly say that you’re very happy when you’re with me?

I wave my fist at him in a threatening manner.

Victor sighs. Looking back at me, he says in resignation:

Victor: I’m happy. But it has nothing to do with the merry-go-round.

As the music gradually softens, and the merry-go-round is about to complete its turn, I realise that we haven’t taken a picture yet.

Just as I adjust the angle, attempting to include Victor into the frame to obtain a “group photo”, he senses what I'm planning to do.

Victor takes my phone, then leans down closer to me.

Victor: Look at the camera.

He lifts the phone up, pressing the shutter.

[ PART TWO ]

MC: High-altitude glass platform bridge…?

In order to try a more unique attraction, Victor and I have come to the high-altitude glass platform bridge with the direction of the guide.

Victor: Want to try it?

After a moment of hesitance, I nod.

MC: Since we’re already here!

Looking death calmly in the face, I stare at the pathway, resolutely joining the queue.

Although I’ve already mentally prepared myself, I regret it the moment I step onto the platform bridge.

MC: I can’t do this. People need to stand on the ground!

I grip the railing at the side, carefully inching forward at a tortoise’s pace.

Just as I plan to tell Victor about my regret of overestimating my confidence, I lift my head and see him waiting for me composedly.

Likely seeing that I haven’t moved after such a long time, Victor sighs softly, walks towards me, and offers me his hand.

I immediately reach out, holding his large palm.

A warm sensation sprouts from our laced hands. Victor follows my pace, walking slowly to the other end of the platform bridge.

MC; You aren’t afraid?

Victor: Why should I be afraid?

He pauses for a moment, then gives me an explanation which leaves me unable to retort.

Victor: Since it’s open for visitors to experience, there are definitely sufficient safeguards to ensure the safety of the amusement facilities.

MC: …

For a moment, I actually don’t know where I should begin.

The person is the one feeling scared. What does that have to do with the safety of the facilities?

Or should I be in awe that because of such a reason, he can overcome the fear that humans have about falling from high altitudes?

Victor: If you’re really scared, don’t look under your feet. Look forward.

While doing that, I still can’t help but mutter:

MC: During such moments, shouldn’t you say things like “If you’re scared, hold me tight”, or “If you’re scared, just look at me”?

Victor casts me a glance.

Victor: Do you think that’d be useful?

MC: Mr Victor, do you know the power and vigour comfort brings?

Victor: The next time you can’t finish your proposal, I think I could reuse this saying. You can use your vigour to increase efficiency, and not ask me to postpone the meeting.

I look straight into Victor’s eyes, the discipline of the working class enabling me to harden my backbone and face this investor even at a high altitude.

MC: Are you a monster? Must you bring up things that’d upset me at this time?

Victor looks at me, a slight smile in his eyes.

Victor: You’re so full of vigour. I think you aren’t afraid anymore. All right, you can finish the rest of the path yourself.

Hearing this, I realise that the transparent glass platform has already reached its end. The following path is lined with carpet.

In the midst of our banter, I’d actually completed the entire journey without even realising it.

MC: Victor, were you deliberately criticising me earlier to divert my attention?

Victor: I should be the one with questions. When I’m by your side, where else could your focus be diverted to?

I’m left dumbfounded. Victor chuckles, as though he doesn’t care how I’d respond to his question.

Like earlier, he walks in front of me unhurriedly, not releasing the hand holding onto mine.

Victor: The next attraction probably has a queue. Follow closely.

[ PART THREE ]

MC: I didn’t expect the restaurants in the carnival to serve pretty tasty food.

I take a bite out of a heart-shaped lemon cake, and can’t help but exclaim in awe.

Initially, I had only noticed that the food laid out on the tables for patrons was shocking.

The extremely big and bold words on the leaflet - “Carnival Special Couple Set Meal” - stirred my heart.

Without another word, I pulled Victor in, pointing at the leaflet excitedly.

I didn’t expect that no matter whether it was the presentation or the taste, they left one pleasantly surprised.

MC: Victor, should Souvenir also introduce a couple set meal in the future? Like this heart-shaped cake - I’m really optimistic about its popularity in the market! I think it can attract quite a number of people.

Victor: No.

Unsurprisingly, Victor rejects my idea.

I sigh.

MC: CEO Victor, as the most ambitious and most knowledgeable on how to advance in the market, LFG is a business miracle. What does it receive most praise for? Isn’t it how it’s bold enough to try expanding its capabilities? Also, as the manager of Souvenir, are you really not considering including such a mentality into your dishes?

On the spot, I present a report involving how to expand Souvenir, and anticipate his reaction.

Victor is the same as always. Both arms are crossed over his chest as he listens to my report seriously, then he gives his comments.

Victor: The report lacks proper thought. Rejected.

MC: Why’s that?

I feel slightly indignant.

Victor sets down his hands, signalling that I should shift closer.

I have no idea what he’s planning to do, and lean over while confused.

Victor’s fingers brush against the stray hairs near my ear, rescuing a strand of hair which has been entangled with my earring.

When his finger brushes lightly against my earlobe, I suddenly think of how Victor was the one who put on this pair of earrings for me before we headed out this morning.

Victor: Souvenir isn’t a business. Its existence is unrelated to any business models.

MC: What is it related to then?

Victor: The manager’s personal preferences.

He retracts his hand, looking at me calmly.

Victor: The presentation and image of such dishes don’t suit Souvenir’s usual style.

Regretfully, I split the heart-shaped strawberry pie, placing half onto Victor’s plate.

MC: Since the manager has already put it that way…

MC: It looks like I can only seize this opportunity, and experience the fluffy, soft strawberry pie here.

I let out a soft sigh. In my mind, I can’t help but imagine - if Victor were to make this, I wonder how it’d taste.

MC: It’d definitely be several times more delicious than this.

Victor finishes the strawberry pie, and doesn’t seem to hear my soft mutter.

After a short period of silence, Victor’s serious voice pipes up.

Victor: It won’t be an item on the menu.

Victor: But this doesn’t mean I can’t make it for you once at home.

Victor elegantly cuts the food on the plate, not much expression on his face.

Only I know the warmth underneath that quiet display.

MC: When the time comes, I’ll invite Mr Victor to appraise it with me.

[ PART FOUR ]

We walk and pause, finally ending up before the Pendulum ride.

Pointing at the attraction, where shrill cries can be heard constantly, I think of that children’s day when he had taken the “Time Traveler” ride with me.

And how time had stopped for a few seconds during the descent.

[Note] This is a reference to Fairytale Date!

MC: Want to give this a try?

I turn my head, looking at Victor expectantly.

Victor: No.

As I expected, Victor rejects me.

MC: Victor, could you be scared?

Victor: Of course not.

His expression is stern, and he looks forward.

MC: In that case, ride it with me!

While saying this, I pull him along with me and we sit down.

There’s still some time before the ride begins. The chatter and laughter from people in the queue before us continuously drift over.

Enthusiastic visitor: A friend of mine took the Pendulum before. When it was over, he calmly said that it wasn’t much. In the end, he started puking after taking a few steps.

Happy visitor: Hahahaha, the same thing happened to my colleague. He sat for the ride in another place once, and screamed until his voice was hoarse at work the next day. He had to drink chinese medicine for the entire day.

I’m somewhat tickled by the conversations.

MC: They’re speaking so exaggeratedly. How could that be possible? What do you think?

The criticism I expected doesn’t arrive.

Finding this a little odd, I look at Victor, realising that he’s strapping on his seatbelt seriously, his expression stern.

Oh…?

I really wish I could take out my phone and snap a picture of this Victor before me.

The Pendulum truly lives up to its name.

At first, I even thought it’d be so-so.

But when the Pendulum’s amplitude grows increasingly larger, till it feels like I’m being tossed around, I can’t help but scream.

MC: Ahhhhh–

This! Is! Too! Scary!

Just when I’m forced to sit through these parabolic motions, my left hand is gently held onto by someone.

Bracing against the violent wind, I open my eyes. Victor is sitting straight and quietly in his seat. His posture is tense, yet he looks as though he’s very calm.

Amid the shrill screams, I can vaguely hear his voice.

Victor: Don’t be afraid.

Stepping off the Pendulum, I immediately grasp for the railing at the side.

However, when I see Victor’s crooked tie and slightly unkempt hair, I can’t help but burst into laughter.

This time, I don’t let this chance slip by, and keep this dishevelled Victor in my phone.

I make a decision to have this picture printed out to be placed at the bedside.

Victor: …what are you doing this time?

MC: Nothing, nothing! Oh yes, what do you think of this attraction?

Victor: …so-so.

MC: If you’re afraid, you can just say so. It’s a normal human reaction, and I won’t laugh at you.

Victor: I’m not afraid.

MC: In that case…

I look at Victor, my smile growing wider.

MC: Let’s ride it again!

Victor: …

MC: You aren’t going to prove that you aren’t afraid?

Victor: Let’s go then.

MC: Eh?

Victor: Since you’re so enthusiastic about this ride, you’ll definitely experience it together with me. Am I wrong?

Seeing Victor arch his brows slightly, and turning my game against me, I respond with certainty–

MC: I’m sorry! We’ll head to another attraction right now!

[ PART FIVE ]

Perplexed and not knowing which attraction to go to next, an uproar in front attracts my attention.

MC: Eh? Did something happen?

I pull Victor forward with me.

I see a man holding a large bunch of roses and pink balloons, kneeling down on one knee in front of a woman.

The woman’s face is red from shyness, and her eyes are filled with touching emotions and surprise.

MC: Someone’s proposing!

Looking at the scene before me, I can’t help but tilt my head and whisper into Victor’s ear as he stands beside me.

MC: It’s so sweet. I hope they can be together for a very long time!

Victor turns his head slightly, as though sensing the envy in my tone.

Victor: You’re very envious?

MC: A little.

Victor frowns slightly, looking as though he can’t comprehend it.

Very quickly, however, he seems to think of something.

Victor: Stand here and don’t move. Wait for a while.

Before I can react, Victor has already left.

I stand rooted in place.

At the side, the proposal is still ongoing. The man stammers as he takes her down a walk through memory lane, clumsily taking out a ring box.

The girl’s eyes have long since been brimming with happy tears.

I look at Victor, not knowing what he’s going to do, and not knowing what will happen next.

Under my expectant and nervous gaze, he walks over to the person selling balloons, and buys a small balloon flower.

MC: …

I knew it!

Victor: Give me your hand.

When Victor returns, he speaks in his usual tone.

Then, he holds up my hand, lowers his eyes, and ties the balloon flower to my wrist.

Seeing this childish action contrasted with Victor’s serious expression, I can’t help but chuckle.

With me, he’s done so many things that are, according to his standards, a waste of time, meaningless and utterly childish.

It doesn’t seem to be a bad thing though.

My heart is encased with a sweetness. Raising my wrist happily, I crinkle my eyes as I look at the balloon flower under the sunlight.

MC: It’s so pretty!

My gaze is completely absorbed by the balloon flower, and I don’t even notice that the crowd afar off has burst into applause. That man’s proposal probably succeeded.

Victor: You’re satisfied just like that?

MC: Hehe, the most satisfied person in the world! Let’s go, we still have to head to the next attraction.

I turn my head and prepare to leave, but Victor grabs my wrist.

MC: What…!

Pink coloured balloons and flower petals fill the air, spreading happiness all around.

And in this corner with only the two of us, a gentle kiss descends on my forehead.

Victor: The most childish person in the entire amusement park is probably right in front of me.

Victor looks at me, saying the critique that I couldn’t be more familiar with.

In his eyes, there’s also a smile and gentleness that I couldn’t be more familiar with.

The celebration and clamour have nothing to do with me.

All the happiness and clamour, all the ribbons and fresh flowers, can’t compare to a word from him.

Nor can they compare to the somewhat childish balloon flower on my wrist.

I smile while standing on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around Victor’s neck, and giving him a kiss.

MC: He’s also in front of me! Being childish with you is the happiest thing in the world.

I hear a soft chuckle, then a warm breath. Following this, my forehead feels a tender touch for the second time.

Victor: Dummy.

Fireworks event: here

#this is just a re-post of the love carnival translations!#I'm doing some mild renovations to the blog so don't mind me #the previous translations were split according to parts rather than love interest which I find really disjointed!

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poedameronloverx · 3 years

Text

A New Way Of Life

Life In Lockdown Series Masterlist

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary - As the reality of working from home sets in, you and your friends have to learn to work around one another, whilst also finding things to relax you to make evenings with your friends a lot of fun.

Warnings - Mentions of covid

Word Count - 2090

Week 1 – March 2020

The first few days of lockdown were a challenge. Trying to get in touch with people from work was proving more difficult than you’d first thought. You were getting easily distracted as well. BeeBee spent his time going between Poe in the dining room and you in the living room, the open plan nature basically making it a massive room for him to wander around in. Anytime he came near you, you couldn’t resist picking him up for snuggles. Poe was a distraction too, he liked to sing to himself as he worked and the sound of his voice was distracting you from whatever work you were doing. After reading the same line of an email 4 times you decided to take a break, you headed to the kitchen and started up the coffee machine. BeeBee followed you, deciding to have his own drink break with his bowl of water. Rose appeared in the kitchen whilst you were waiting for your coffee to be done.

“How’s it going?” she asked

“It’s a lot more challenging than I thought. Everything is distracting me!”

“Me too” she replied “And most people aren’t picking up calls today because they’ve all obviously had to close their offices as well”

“I can’t get hold of management” you replied “And BeeBee keeps wanting attention and he’s so cute I always give in! We should put a smart watch on him. He’s probably done 10000 steps walking between Poe and I”

“How’s Poe as a colleague?”

“Distracting, he keeps singing”

“He’s a good singer, could be worse” Rose chuckled

“Yeah he’s great but my mind just hears singing and thinks it’s done with work” you replied “Have you heard anything from Finn?”

“No, the doors been closed all morning. I don’t think he even came out for a break”

“Hopefully it’s going alright for him”

“Why don’t we do something tonight” Rose said “We’re all having weird days so maybe we could plan fun things in the evenings”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Movie night tonight” she replied “We can make dinner then watch a bunch of movies. We can plan other things for other evenings”

“I’m in” you replied “It’ll be nice to have something to look forward to”

“What are we looking forward to?” Poe asked as he joined you in the kitchen

“Oh, Rose was just saying we should plan fun things to do in the evenings, starting with movie night tonight”

“Sounds great. This working remotely thing is really not fun”

“BeeBee likes it” you smiled “He’s enjoying going between us”

“Well as long as the best boy is happy then we all are” Poe chuckled, leaning down to scoop the dog into his arms “You’re the best little buddy aren’t you”

“So cute!” Rose whispered

Rose’s idea for a movie night was just what everyone needed after the first day of the strange new reality the world found itself in. The 4 of you picked a movie each, the genres ranged from musicals, to Disney, to action and finally horror. You didn’t hate horror movies but they would never be your first choice. BeeBee who had taken residence in your lap for movie night suddenly found himself being hugged a lot tighter than previously. Rose and Finn were sat on one sofa all cuddled up, Rose had a blanket over her head and Finn was chuckling at her anytime she jumped at the scares from the movie. Poe and you were sat on the opposite side of the room. A blanket covered your legs, which were crossed underneath you. Poe was stretched out, his feet hanging off the end of the sofa and his head rested on a pillow a few inches away from you. He sat up when you jumped at one particularly bad jump scare.

“Hey, you alright?” he whispered

“Just not really my kind of movie” you replied

“Me neither, but Finn loves them so I’ve got used to them! I can hold your hand if you want”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. It’s just a stupid movie right?”

“Right” Poe smiled, he sat up and moved closer to you “Just incase anyone tries to grab you, I’ll not let them”

The sun decided to make an appearance on the 3rd and 4th days of lockdown. It wasn't tropical temperatures or anything but you could get away with being in the garden as long as you had a hoodie on. Rose was completely snowed under at work and you rarely saw Finn apart from lunch. Poe’s boss had taken pity on them all after a stressful few days and given them the Friday as a day off. You could see him sat in the garden with BeeBee whilst you worked. It was approaching 12.00 and you were slowly losing the will to live. You managed to push through until 1pm when you were ready for lunch. Your boss emailed to give everyone the afternoon off so you made your lunch, pulled a hoodie on and headed out to the garden to join Poe. As soon as the sun hit your skin, you instantly felt relaxed. It had been a strange week and you were grateful to be able to start your weekend a few hours early. You grabbed one of the garden chairs and moved it over next to Poe.

“Happy weekend” he said as you sat down

“It’s been the weirdest week in the entire world. I’m so glad we made it to the weekend”

“Me too, and I’m really glad you got an early finish. Bee isn’t the best conversation holder” he winked

“He’s cute though, he gets points for that at least!”

“That goes without saying”

The dog must’ve known he was being spoken about. He got up from his place in the shade to come and get some attention.

“Wanna take him a walk with me later?” Poe asked “The ice cream kiosk in the park is open, we could get something there, and it would be nice to have some company”

“Yeah, that sounds good”

Finn and Rose were still upstairs working when it came time for BeeBee’s walk. You texted Rose to tell her you’d gone with Poe. The park was beautiful in the sun, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d actually visited it. It was only a 10 minute walk away from the house but you didn't really have a reason to go to it. There were families out on walks, people on their own, people with dogs. Everyone was out enjoying the weather and taking their one form of daily outdoor exercise. You chuckled as BeeBee tried to make friends with every other dog and human he came across, his little tail wagging the entire time. Poe led you over to the ice cream kiosk he had mentioned; there was a long socially distanced queue.

“You keep an eye on Bee and I’ll get us some ice cream” he smiled “There’s a bench just round the back of this kiosk, nobody ever sits at it but it’s at a really good bit for Bee to run around. I’ll come and get you once I get the ice cream”

You nodded and made your way round to the bench Poe had mentioned. Like he said, the area was quiet; there was one woman with a dog that you’d seen earlier on, BeeBee and her dog had sniffed one another when you'd walked passed her just after walking into the park. You took the ball you’d lifted before leaving the house out of your pocket and threw it for the little dog. He happily chased after it, always bringing it back. He set it down for a second to talk to the woman who was stood at the other side of the grass, her dog spotted it’s opportunity and grabbed it. The woman chased after her dog and eventually got the ball back. She walked over to the bench and stood far enough away from where you were, but close enough to lay the ball down.

“Sorry about that, he’s terrible for stealing from other dogs”

You chuckled “It’s not a problem, it’s this ones fault for trying to be too sociable”

She smiled “Your dog is so cute!”

“He is cute, but sadly he’s not mine. I have to give him back”

“Ah, he’s your boyfriends. The guy you were walking with earlier”

You could feel yourself blushing “Em, yeah he belongs to him, but he’s not my boyfriend. Just a friend and lockdown house mate”

“Oh, I’m sorry I just assumed” she replied “You guys looked liked a super cute couple when I spotted you earlier”

“It’s fine” you replied with a shrug.

You wished he was your boyfriend, you’d had a crush on the man since the first day you met him. The two of you had clicked right away when Ben had introduced you. Him and Poe had been classmates that didn’t keep in touch, you vaguely remembered seeing Poe at your brothers birthday parties when you were kids but nobody paid you much attention back then because they were all older and you were the annoying little sister of their friend. Poe and Ben had met back up again when Ben became a client of Poe’s work. You were introduced to Poe when Ben and Rey got engaged and had a party. You’d later found out you had a mutual friend in Finn and the 3 of you started to hang out. You’d known Finn since high school, you never went to the same school but you both had a part time job at a local café. Finding out Poe was Finn’s best friend and roommate made you re-connect with Finn. You’d kept in touch on social media for years but didn’t really spend a lot of time together so through Poe that all changed. When you’d introduced Finn and Rose it had been love at first sight. The 4 of you could be found hanging out on a regular basis; everyone always assumed it was a double date because of how close you and Poe were. He was a touchy, feely guy. He would often be found with his arm round your shoulders, his hand on your back when you were walking anywhere with him. You loved it but also hated it because you always wanted more. The reason you had never mentioned anything was because you were scared he wouldn’t feel the same and you didn’t want such a good friendship to fall apart if you told him and made things awkward. Rose knew, but she promised she wouldn't tell Poe.

BeeBee and the other dog went back to playing together and the woman wandered back to where she had originally been stood. You took a few photos on your phone and uploaded them to social media. Everyone needed a boost during the weird times you were in and you thought there was no better way to cheer people up than photos of cute dogs. After what felt like hours, Poe finally came to join you. He handed you a small tub of ice cream and a slushie.

“Man are they busy” he said, flopping down next to you on the bench “Did Bee behave?”

“He did, that dog he’s playing with stole his ball but they’re on friendly terms now”

“That’s good news” Poe chuckled

The two of you sat and enjoyed your ice creams, the weather and one another’s company. When you were ready to head back home Poe phoned Finn, the local takeaways were open for delivery and Poe decided it was too nice a night for anyone to be cooking. The evening was spent eating as much pizza as you could and watching videos on YouTube. Finn was really into the ones exploring abandoned places and you all fell down a rabbit hole of watching video after video. Rose fell asleep first, and you soon followed. Eventually leaning over and falling onto Poe’s shoulder. Poe and Finn smiled at one another. You had all survived a crazy week, you’d had to adapt to an all new way of life and there had been some hiccups but overall you’d all coped. You were thankfully all healthy, and you had good company and were surrounded by your best friends. Life was far from perfect but both of them knew that things could be a lot worse, and that worldwide things would get worse before they improved.

So once again please let me know what you thought, I want to get better as a writer and I can only do that with your help. Thank you for all of the kind comments one the last part, they really made me smile! <3

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x f!reader #tw: covid 19 #tw: covid #poe dameron x solo!reader

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fanfics-with-coffee · 4 years

Text

Dabi and Bakugou rarely got along but when they do, it's to double team you. You had been riling them up every time you entered the bar but never let them get any satisfaction, until you agreed on Dabi's dumb challenge. Drink the Blowjob shot the way it's suppose to be had, from between their legs and using no hands.

(This is a re-post from my AO3 work)

Genre: Smut, just smut, Bar!au Characters: Bakugou x reader x Dabi

The neon sign glared down at the people on the street, illuminating everyone in a bright red light. You basked in the light, surrounded by your giggling friends as you made your ways through the crowd of people. This wasn’t your first time in the light and you knew it wouldn’t be your last either. Best bar in the whole district, the whole city even if you asked any lady leaving the place. But you did agree, if you were going to have a drink anywhere then Valor would be it. If you could be so bold then you’d even call yourself a bit of a celebrity at the place. Everyone there knew who you were and knew how you took your drinks. So you often brought your friends along so both brag and give the place some extra income.

After some shuffling of bodies and holding your friends hands you made it to the front of the people, right up to the entrance. You smiled at the bouncer and he smiled right back, showing off his sharp teeth. He was suited up like usual, the suit pants and white button up fitting well around his crossed arms and muscular chest. His bright red hair was spiked as usual and his face was now highlighted red from the neon sign.

“Good evening, ladies! What can I do for ya?” Kirishima asked as if he didn’t know what you wanted, looking behind you to see the awed looks of your friends as they obviously checked out the cutie in front of you. You placed a hand on your hip, pulling the coat you were wearing a little closer to you to keep the cold out.

“Oh you know, just wanted to show my friends this really nice bar i’ve been visiting.” You said with a coy tone, looking around you as if you didn’t know the layout. You made eye contact with the blondie guarding the other door, the black streak in his hair reflecting the red light. He winked at you with a grin before looking over your friends, clearly curious. But he quickly needed to go back to his queue and checking ID’s so the line wouldn’t be held up for too long. Kirishima followed your eyes while nodding, humming in fake curiosity.

“Is that so… Well why don’t you ladies head in then and order something then? Show them why you like it so much, eh?” The redhead looked past you and at your friends, giving them a charming grin and wink before looking at you again. He took a step to the side, making way so your whole group could enter. You gave him a pat on the arm and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ while you walked past him. He just nodded and watched the rest of your friends also walk past him. As you enter the bar you’re met by the warmth first of all. The bodies filling the place was heating up the whole room but you didn’t mind, it was actually very welcoming compared to the cold outside. The second thing that hit you was the music playing through the speakers. While it was soft the music was obviously from the weeks top lists, the beat of the songs being felt through the air. You started peeling your jacket off of you, eyes scanning over the environment. The whole place was dimly lit, the only bright lights shining being the ones under the bar and behind the shelves filled with alcohol. There were the occasional lamp used to set the mood in the place but they were never at full power. The interior was mostly black with details in gold and the dark wood surfaces. Fancy.

You walked confidently to the wardrobe section, smiling at Momo as she took your coat and handed you a number plate that you placed in your handbag. Your friends did the same but you stopped paying too much mind to them, they could handle themselves and you knew the place took care of their customers so you had nothing to worry about. You had something more important in mind. Eyes locking onto the bar you quickly found a spot you could sit down at, miraculously.

You searched the space between the bar and quickly found one out of the two people you were looking for. The tall young man was pouring a beer from the tap while having eye contact with a girl leaning on the counter, smiling at him. He looked mildly amused, raising an eyebrow as she kept talking. He responded to her, his bright red eyes illuminated by the bar lights but you don’t know what he said. You didn’t particularly care either, most of the girls kept repeating the same conversation subjects. He dragged a hand through his blonde hair but it didn’t do much to deter the spikes from forming again while he handed the girl the glass with a smile. You noticed he had shaved the undercut shorter since last time, it looked much neater and clean cut tonight. He was as always dressed in the bartender outfit, the bright red button up and black vest. You could see from your seat that the top buttons of his shirt was unbuttoned, obviously revealing parts of his collarbone and chest. He had yet to notice you but that was about to change.

While you were staring at one of your favorite subjects the other had found you before you had the time to find him.

“Back again, huh, dollface?” The hoarse voice welcomed you back to the bar and you already knew who it was. You smiled and turned your face to notice you were mere inches from the owner of the voice. He was giving you lazy grin, the movement of his mouth extenuating the port wine stain birthmarks around his mouth and going down his neck, the thick tattooed on stitches between his normal skin and the birthmarks still in view. You two stayed like that for a moment, daring each other to move away first. His warm breath hit your lips when he huffed and leaned back, shifting his weight from one leg to another. Placing his hands on the counter he made you feel trapped in his presence. You looked at the tattoos covering his arms, full on sleeves creeping up under his rolled up shirt. Finally you met his eyes again, those bright blue eyes staring down at you. You could see the fading scars on the birthmarks under his eyes, a probably long story you had only heard bits and pieces of. Apparently he had gotten in some trouble and the guys had threatened to cut his eyes out and almost did too. He always jokes about how lucky he is to still have sight or he would never have been able say he’s seen an angel. And if you were the angel then it was no doubt he'd be the devil. With the multiple piercings you've seen glimpses of in the light and the jet black hair playfully sticking up everywhere, you wouldn't be surprised if he revealed himself as an incubi.

“Indeed. I mean, I know I can’t be gone for too long without your ego getting too big, Dabi” You smirked back at his lazy grin, watching his hands move to make you a mojito. He chuckled and looked down to measure the content of your glass, nodding in joking agreement.

“You’re not wrong, the girls around here are easy when you look as good as me, you know? Gets boring after a while. But you… You’re fun Y/N.” He points a black straw at you before putting it in your drink and placing it in front of you. You keep the eye contact going as you pick up your glass and take a sip from it, the refreshing sweetness filling your mouth. The tension was palpable and it had been like this every time you hang out here for a long while now. Everytime you were there you’d tease him and play hard to get, only giving him enough to hold onto the hope that maybe one day you'll be another notch in his belt. Never accepting his dumb bets yet never saying no. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oi, if you two are finished eye fucking each other then maybe emo boy here can get back to work?” The tension was broken by the voice of dear blondie who had left the conversation with the girl and come to join you and Dabi. Bakugou didn’t look pleased as he glared at the taller man and defensively placed a hand on the counter to the right of you, making Dabi lift his own hand from the spot and releasing you from his almost hypnotic hold.

“It’s called goth, hot shot. And I was working, can't you see I provided angel here with a drink?" he motioned to the drink in your hand which you helpfully raised to show the truth of his statement, smiling sweetly towards Bakugou the whole time just to annoy him. He looked at the drink for a short moment before giving it a look of disgust and making eye contact with you again, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"You should keep yourself to your simple fucking shots, you can at least make those right. Leave the actual drinks to the actual…" Bakugou looked Dabi up and down before staring him in the face. "Bartenders. We don't need to pretend we know what we're doing unlike you extra." The two had started to attract a small crowd, some girls because they thought the two men were attractive and some because they actually wanted to know what was going on. You just sat there calmly, this wasn't their first dispute in front of a crowd nor your first time having a front row seat. Dabi didn't move a visible muscle and instead just stood there with a deadpan glare, watching as Bakugou prepared another mojito. All you could see was his chest rising and falling in an even pace.

When Bakugou finished the drink, with some flare of course, he placed it in front of you. It was neater than your first one, a lime slice delicately placed on the rim of the glass together with a mint leaf as garnish. During the time it took to make the drink Dabi had already sighed and poured himself a shot, downing it when your glass had hit the table. He knew he wasn't supposed to drink on the job but he also knew there wasn't anyone that was gonna stop him. Bakugou ignored him and instead took to watching you, impatiently waiting for you to try his obviously superior drink. And so you did, taking an equally big sip as you took from the first one, you knew how picky he was.

"Well… While I appreciate the thought and concern you have, Bakugou, and it's true that your drink was served better… They taste the same. And I'm pretty sure I'll get just as drunk from either." you place your final verdict, eliciting a laugh from Dabi and a look of something akin to horror from Bakugou. Dabi slung his arm over Bakugou's shoulders, leaning heavily on him as a smug grin crept onto his face.

"What was that now again, hot stuff? Didn't need to pretend huh? Sure, sure… Well if I'm better at shots then I am at drinks then I must be a master at them, so how about we have one?" The tattooed man asked, standing up again and pulling up his shirt sleeves again. As he started on those, pulling out three shot glasses for each and every one of you presumably, you looked towards your favorite blonde who had crossed his arms and was bitterly staring at your two drinks.

"Do you want me to pay for both, or do I get one for free?" You smiled at him, sipping on the drink made by him just to appease him a little. While you didn't have as obvious of a sexual tension with him there had been countless moments where you were sure he'd been so riled up he would've taken you on the bar itself you allowed it. The hot headed man might be smooth in front of the ladies coming and going, it's part of the job, but you liked to get just a little too close. A little too on the edge for him to truly be in his element. And it frustrated him to no end. Yet now he just shook his head in vague defeat.

"No, obviously not, why the fuck would you pay for both? And since we made a crowd take both, just don't you fucking dare tell Iida we're drinking shots while working." he gave you a serious glare while you just laughed and nodded, obviously promising to not rat them out.

In the next moment you had three glasses put before you and Dabi once again joined the conversation. You examined the shots and realize what was going through the blue eyed man's head. The whipped cream at the top was the biggest clue but the shit eating grin he was wearing didn't help his case either. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms, watching Dabi closely, waiting for his excuse this time.

"Well since you're getting drinks on the house then maybe you owe us a little something. You always decline my challenge with a smug fucking smirk on your pretty face but now I find that you have few excuses, princess. C'mon, for poor Bakugou whose ego you crushed." Dabi patted Bakugou's chest while staring at you, ignoring Bakugou's futile protests. You watched them, glanced at the shots and then looked back up to them.

The light shone from behind them, illuminating them and reflecting off the glasses you were drinking from. Both their shirts had unbuttoned buttons and you had a clear view of parts of their chest, further enticing you to accept Dabi's challenge and maybe show them who's got who wrapped around their finger. You soak in the view for a second before unraveling your arms.

"Well you still haven't issued the challenge, Dabi, or what's in it for me if I win."

"Or lose, Angel. I want you to drink the blowjob shots the way they're supposed to be taken. From between our legs without using your hands. If you don't spill anything then I'll pay for your drinks for the rest of the evening. If you do spill… Well I'm sure we can agree to a fitting punishment when we get there. And you can't spill anything from either of them, deal?" This wasn't the first time Dabi had challenged you, nor were you the first person he'd used this tactic on. You'd usually hear Bakugou complaining that he'd found the two making out in the backroom afterwards, even if the other participant had won. But this time he involved someone else too and well, the look you're imagining Bakugou having during it might just be worth it.

"Pay for my friends drinks too and we have a deal." you informed him on your condition as you stood up, knowing that you'd have to move to find a better fitting spot to do this, away from too many peering eyes. Dabi didn't respond and instead just grinned and grabbed two of the shots, following you out from behind the bar. Bakugou took a second to debate if this was a good idea or not but watching you walk away, your hips swaying enticingly managed to convince him. "Fuck it…"

You knew exactly where you all could get out of the spotlight and moved over to a corner with a booth. You sat down on the end of one of the couches, watching the two men arrive after you. Bakugou had grabbed the last shot and was cautiously looking around for anyone watching you, or a co-worker noticing their absence. Dabi on the other hand had his eyes on you, placing one of the shots he was holding besides you on the table, towering over you. You just looked up at him and smiled. He grinned back before grabbing a random chair from one of the other tables, dragging it so it faced you.

Dabi didn’t hesitate to sit down, spreading his legs apart so you could see the pants straining against his crotch. With one hand he placed the cream topped glass between his legs on the seat, the other arm he leaned the elbow on the back of the chair. His muscles were tensing up under the red shirt as to keep the position and you could just imagine what was hiding underneath. He cocked his head to the side and gave you a shit eating grin, lifting an expectant eyebrow at you.

“Well, dollface?” You made eye contact with him and an involuntary shiver went down your spine going straight to between your legs. You didn’t expect it to affect you this much this quickly. Free drinks sounded really good at the time but now you’re not even sure you’ll be able to stay long enough to enjoy them. Yet you couldn’t give up before you’d even started.

You didn’t dare respond to him and instead hid the rush of blood to your face with a smug smile, straightening your back. You dragged your hand through your hair to pull it back before you bent down, keeping eye contact with those blue eyes. If he was going to try and mess you up then you could at least try and do the same. He had moved his hand from the glass and had instead placed it on his thigh besides your head. You opened your mouth and glanced at the glass to make sure you got it. Before you took it into your mouth you made sure to lick the cream off the top, looking up at him through your lashes.

That got a reaction out of him. The grin he was so proudly wearing dropped and instead he stared down at you with his mouth slightly agape. It looked like he was already breathing heavy and you could see him clench his hand in the corner of your eye. Proud of your work you grabbed the shot glass with your mouth and threw your head back, downing the shot in one go. You gracefully grabbed the now empty glass and then slammed it on the table. You removed some of the cream that had gotten on the corner of your mouth with the knuckle of your finger.

“Next.” You said, confidence dripping from your voice. If the music wasn’t blaring through the speakers then you swear you could’ve heard Bakugou swallow nervously. Dabi just chuckled and stood up but before he had fully turned around you could see the outline of something in his pants, pushing against the fabric. You ego only grew at the sight.

“Your turn, hot stuff.” Dabi patted Bakugou's shoulder, pulling him from his hypnotised staring at your lips. He quickly realized what he had been doing and looked away, not ready to admit to his actions. Despite that he still walked over and sat on the chair.

He mimicked Dabi and spread his legs as well, his pants also straining on his crotch. Even in the dim light you could see that something was pushing against the fabric in his pants as well. Your gaze fell to it and your mind was about to start wandering if Bakugou's hand hadn’t gotten in the way when he placed the shot. Unlike Dabi, Bakugou wasn’t as confident and had a difficult time knowing where to place his hands, deciding in the end to just cross his arms. The action just made the muscles on his arms even more visible. He didn’t dare make any eye contact Once again you could feel your body react, your breathing slowing and becoming heavier but you were hoping they didn’t notice. But with your luck, Dabi must’ve. But you didn’t let him say anything as you just smiled again and leaned down. Bakugou was still not looking though and you just couldn’t have that. So you took your hands and placed them on his inner thighs, grabbing onto the surprisingly muscular meat.

You felt him jump slightly and snap his head to look at you. You just looked back up and smiled, giving him a wink. Bakugou would argue that it was just the red lights but you knew he was blushing mad. You decided to cut his suffering short, afraid that if you turned him on any more it’d start to be painful in those tight pants of his. So you opened your mouth, ignoring the obvious hard on right in front of your face and took the glass into your mouth. But as you pulled back up you heard Bakugou mutter something under his breath.

“Fuck, babygirl…”

His voice had been strained and quiet but you caught it in the middle of all the noise surrounding you despite him trying to cover his mouth with his clenched hand. And you lost it. You choked on the shot and had to grab the glass from mouth before your could down the whole thing. You coughed and placed a hand on your chest, trying to regain your breath. You placed the half empty glass on the table beside the other two. Bakugou shot out of his chair to make sure you were alright but didn’t quite know what to do.

“Shit…” You mumbled, realizing what had just happened. You lost. You looked up at Bakugou who was still worried about you choking while Dabi was closing in from the side. His grin was already giving away what he was thinking.

“Well well well, angel. You talked so big yet couldn’t take a little dirty talking. Cute. But what should we do with you now? Bakugou?” Dabi had snaked an arm around Bakugous shoulders once again, caging you in between the two men. Bakugou just looked at him confused and disturbed before it clicked in his head what he was talking about. He just grunted and looked back down at you, something had shifted in his eyes and they weren’t as innocent as they had been before.

“Let’s get out of here.”

You weren’t prepared for the tone of voice from the blonde. Your heart began beating quicker as you started to form an understanding of what you had gotten yourself into. Dabi just grinned and took a step back, motioning for us to “go ahead”. You looked to the table and saw the last shot and decided to down it too before standing up. Bakugou didn’t take a step back though and you hit his chest with your own, looking up at him surprised. You felt his hot breath against your face and his stare made you weak in the knees. His hands grabbed your waist and without a second thought he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulders.

You yelped at the sudden motion and saw the whole world start to move as Bakugou turned to head out the backdoor. Dabi soon joined your view, casually strolling behind you two, chuckling at the sight.

“Your place is close to here, right?” Bakugou asked, glancing back at the taller male who just nodded.

“Yup, third floor in the building just across from here.” Dabi took the lead and Bakugou followed. You just clinged to the back of Bakugou's vest, trying to see what was happening in the front and hoping not too many people saw you in such an embarrassing situation. But you couldn’t help but feel that maybe it didn’t matter, maybe what was about to happen was worth the embarrassment.

“I swear to god if the apartment is filthy or you haven’t changed the bed sheets since your last fuck buddy I’m taking her and leaving.” You watched the stairs as Bakugou went up them, still carrying you. One hand firmly planted on your ass, either to keep your dress from riding up or just because he wanted to cop a feel. As he finished his sentence you two stopped and you could hear a key turning in a lock and a door opening just after.

You weren’t put down until the door had once again been closed and you were all in Dabi’s apartment. And even then you didn’t have a moment to take in your surroundings as Bakugou blocked your view, grabbing your chin gently. You looked up into his eyes once again, meeting his deep red ones with your wide ones.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since you opened those pretty lips of yours.” He muttered, eyes glancing down at your lips and then up again. Wasting no more time he pressed his to yours and you almost couldn’t believe it. He was pressing firmly, almost as he was afraid it was a dream he’d wake from, tilting his head to the side as his hands found your neck. You closed your eyes, enjoying the moment and moving your hands over the shaved part of his head. That’s when a third pair of hands joined in.

“Don’t forget that this is a punishment, angel, not a prize.” Dabi whispered in your ear, his hands going down your front, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up, exposing your panties. You gasped at the sudden movement only to have Bakugou use it to his advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth and brushing it against your own. Your sounds were muffled as Dabi used one hand to cup your boob, the other sneaking down to feel you through your underwear. You knew he could feel your wetness through the fabric.

“Shit, so cute, you’re already wet… At this rate you’ll have to problem taking both of us.” You heard him muse as he looked at you from over your shoulder. You couldn’t respond thanks to Bakugou's invasion of your mouth and only whimpered. Dabi chuckled at your predicament and instead of trying to help you just made it worse by slipping his hands underneath the hem of your panties instead. Sliding two fingers between your nether lips he found the bundle of nerves placed between them. He didn’t even hesitate to start drawing slow circles around your clit.

You had to pull away from bakugou, putting your hands on his chest to keep him from going back for round two too quickly. You were panting and letting out small whimpers, unable to look at his face. He stared at you confused before realizing what the other man was doing and how it was affecting you. The two made eye contact with you in between them, Dabi never relenting on his assault on your bud.

“Oi, don’t you have a better place to do this then your hallway?” You heard Bakugou speak above you. His hands moved to your waist and then your back, pulling you closer to him defensively.

“You’re the one who couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to move to the bedroom so don’t blame me, hot shot” Dabi finally pulled his hands out of your underwear and you took a deep breath of relief from the constant stimulus. You legs were quivering from the assault on your senses and the sudden lack of it. But before you could truly calm down you were pulled from Bakugou's warm embrace and into Dabi’s arms instead as he started to lead you away. You could hear Bakugou’s hurried steps behind and the rustling of clothes.

You moved through the small apartment and to a bedroom. The double bed was made and you were about to go sit down, give yourself a break. But as soon as you moved towards it a hand grabbed your arm, looking back at the owner of the hand you saw Dabi shaking his head.

“Remember what I said before? Punishment, not reward, babygirl.” You felt your stomach sink but ironically also fill with butterflies.

“Help her out of that dress and underwear, will ya, hot stuff?” You were handed over to Bakugou who looked about as confused as you. Dabi went and opened a cupboard and you heard the clinking of metal from it as he searched it’s content. He hummed in satisfaction as he placed a bottle on top of the cupboard and then something that glimmered in the light coming from the window. At the same time Bakugou had done as he was told, pulling the dress higher and higher and with your help it had slipped right off. The bra was quickly unclasped and thrown to the side as well just like the panties had been. You could feel his red eyes look you up and down, watching the newly exposed skin as if it were gold.

“Here we go… Hands in front, dollface.” Dabi sauntered back to you two and without thinking you obeyed, holding out your hands in front of you. He grabbed your wrists and soon the sound of something clicking shut filled the room. You looked at your wrists and saw handcuffs now hanging from them. The black fur was kind to your skin though and they weren’t too tight so you couldn’t complain. But you still stared in awe at them, as did Bakugou.

“Ain’t too tight? No? Good. Then get on your knees.” A simple hand on your shoulder had you falling to your knees without second thoughts. You began to wonder what these men had done to you.

As you were down there you watched Dabi unzip the black pants which had been getting tighter and tighter the further the three of you had gone. He dropped them to the ground and you watched as if hypnotised by the tent formed in his underwear. You could hear him chuckle above you, amused at your wide eyes stare. He did quick work of his underwear as well, fishing himself out of them with practiced skill. He was semi hard already, a tuft of hair at the base of his slim cock. He lazily started to work himself to full mast while watching you.

“Liking what you see, I take it. Good. I can see your mouth salivating already, why don’t you taste it?” You looked up at him for a split second before looking at his cock again which he’s let go already. You almost timidly pull on it, opening your mouth to take him in. You swirl your tongue over the tip before taking more and more into your mouth. You close your eyes to focus, letting him slip further down your throat. A hand carefully grabs the back of your head and grabs a handful of your hair. He’s impatient, probably from the build up at the bar and start to set a slow pace which you follow. You feel the tip of his dick drag across your tongue and the back again as the pace speeds up. Soon he’s set a reasonable pace and you open your eyes again to look up at him.

He’s panting and watching you closely, his eyes half lidded by now aroused he is. The sight makes you even hornier and you feel that you need some release yourself and move your hands down to your own crotch. But nothing slips past Dabi's watchful eyes and he speaks up before you can do anything about your own arousal.

“Hey, we didn’t tell you you could touch yourself. Why don’t you do something productive and jack Bakugou off instead? He’s been drooling all over you since you started bobbing your head like a good girl.” You looked to the side and saw Bakugou, he had pulled down his pants and underwear without you even noticing, even his vest was gone and shirt unbuttoned as he worked his own manhood. You two made eye contact and you reached out with your handcuffed hands. The blonde sucked in breath from between clenched teeth and took a step closer, letting you take over for him.

The three of you kept this up for a bit, you bobbing your head on Dabi's dick while he controlled your pace with his hands while your own hands were jacking off a panting and cursing Bakugou. You had lost track of time until Dabi pulled out of your mouth, your spit covering his shaft and your own chin. The lack of fullness had you desperately looking up at Dabi who was visibly trying to restrain himself. At the same time you slowed your hands movements, bewildered by the sudden pull out.

“Shit, don’t look at me like that, dollface, or I might just finish in your mou-” He was cut off by Bakugou grabbing your head and pulling you to him instead, taking full advantage of your open and confused mouth. He was much rougher than Dabi, instead of pacing you he was face fucking you, keeping your head still as he pounded your throat. But the moment only lasted so long as even Bakugou had to pull out as to not cum down your throat and cut his playtime short. You sputtered and coughed after the sudden invasion but was ultimately sad he had stopped.

“Sorry, babygirl but I had to know how your mouth felt wrapped around my cock.. It just looked so inviting and I couldn’t stand you looking at juts him like that.” Bakugou confessed, looking down at you, panting after the sudden burst of energy.

“I was wondering when that explosive personality was gonna play part in this. But enough foreplay, get her on her feet..” Bakugou helped you up, holding onto you so you wouldn’t fall. He pulled you up to his chest and slipped a hand between your legs. Now it was his turn with you and his fingers were much thicker than Dabi’s had been. He didn’t dwell too long on your clit, only playing with it a second before traveling deeper. By now your juices had stained your thighs and he had no problem slipping two fingers into you. Despite the roughing up he had done to your face before he was now slow and calculated in fingering you, pushing in and pulling out in deliberate movements. You were desperately needing something more and ground your hips into his hand. He paid you no mind as his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking on it so he knew it would leave marks. There was nothing you could do but moan and sigh, letting your head fall back on his shoulder.

You two were soon pulled out of your little bubble by the sound of chains falling. You opened your eyes and saw Dabi pulling on a chain from his ceiling. He noticed your staring and just smiled lazily, giving you a come hither motion with his hand. You could feel Bakugous hesitation but you were soon let go, his fingers slipping out of you. You stumbled forward to follow Dabi’s instructions. When you got close enough he pulled you to him by your handcuffs and raised them. Another click and your handcuffs were stuck to the chain, your arms raised above your head. Dabi took a step back and examined you, seemingly proud of his work.

“There we go, angel… Now the fun can really begin.” He stepped in close again and kissed your lips briefly. Then he left you standing there in the otherwise cold room. He went back to the cupboard and grabbed the bottle he placed there before. While he was gone Bakugou had once again snuck back to you, figuring out just what he had planned. He stood in front of you without saying a word, just watching your chest heave. Then he bent down and grabbed the back of your thigh. And then the other. Standing back up he pulled you with, lifting you up into the air and keeping you there, spread legs presenting everything to him. He looked down and then back up, grinning and leaning in close to you.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, babygirl? I’m gonna pound into you until you can’t think of anything but my cock in your pussy. How many times I’ve imagined pushing your face down on the counter at the bar and taking you right then and there, letting everyone see what a good fucking looks like. And I bet you would’ve taken it, wouldn’t you? Like a good girl you would’ve begged me to make you cum. Let’s see if you beg like my mind thinks you do.”

You were speechless. The words coming from Bakugou were something you wouldn’t have expected yet he was growling them to you as if he’d practiced it before hand. You swear you would’ve come right then and there if you didn’t know you’d be punished for it. He didn’t make it any easier when he pushed his thick dick inside of you, slowly but surely pushing himself to the hilt.

You were pulling yourself up on the chain involuntarily from the pleasure entering your system. Arching your back you felt your back hit something warm. Another hand joined on your body, one holding onto the underside of your thigh. Then something cold hit the small of your back and running down your ass making you gasp and clench on Bakugou’s cock.

“I see you two started the fun without me… That isn’t fair but I guess it wasn’t your fault, was it (Y/N)?” Dabi’s voice was behind you and you tried to look at him but your arm was blocking you from turning your head. His other hand suddenly appeared, clearly lubed up and pushing at your other hole. You naturally clenched up more and hear Bakugou curse in front of you.

“Shh no no babygirl, relax… You trust us right? We’ll make it feel good, I promise you’ll be cumming and screaming our names in minutes if you just… relax..” Dabi’s soothing voice calms you down and with some effort you managed to calm your muscles enough to let Dabi’s fingers enter. He praised you as he starts to pump one finger in and out of your whole, then two. It’s clear he’s done this before and knows exactly how to work your buttons. Bakugou wasn’t patient enough to wait for that long and was slowly pulling in and out of you himself, one hand having moved to have his thumb rub circles on your clit. Not enough to make you cum but enough to make you relax more.

Soon enough Dabi was able to scissor his fingers in your ass without you wincing in pain. He pulled out and used his now free hand to help hold you up after having lubed up his own dick. He started to push slowly, the head of his cock slipping into you and you gasp and arch your back again. He stops for a second, looking to make sure you’re still alright before he starts pushing again. Soon he’s pushed himself to the hilt together with Bakugou filling up your pussy. You’ve never felt this full and it did feel amazing, both men pushing at your most sensitive spots.

“See? I told you. Now let’s show you what it means to take two men at the same time, dollface. You’re gonna love it.” He whispered the last part in your ear and your eyes widened as they started to move. What started out in synchronised thrusts soon derailed as they picked up pace. Both of them pushing in and pulling out of you at whatever pace worked for them. Bakugou made sure his thrusts were deep and made you feel full as he sheathed inside you while Dabi was much more erratic and quick, stimulating and pounding the sweet spots of your inside. And their moaning, sighing and groaning was mixed together with your own noises as you all chased your releases. And they came quick

“D-dabi… Bakugou…. I’m about… to.. to cum... “ You managed to get out between moans and you hoped the two men heard you. Luckily they did as they both slowed down much to your own dismay.

“Is that so, angel? You’re gonna cum on our cocks as we pound into you, huh?” Dabi asked teasingly from behind you but Bakugou had other plans.

“Beg for it, babygirl. Beg. for. it.” Every word was emphasised with a thrust of his hips and you whimpered. You couldn’t help but hesitate as you looked into his eyes and saw that he was completely serious, his eyes glazed over and primal. But your need for release was greater and won over your own embarrassment rather quickly.

“Please… Please let me cum. I need to cum, I’ve been needing it since t-the beginning. Since I sucked your big cock, I’ve never been so horny. Fuck, please? Please pound i-into me until I can’t think of anything else, I wan’t you two to fill me and fuck me and and fuck shit, please.” You rambled on and on, trying to convince the two men to let you cum while your head felt fuzzy and you couldn’t think straight. You could see Bakugou’s grin grow on his face and he sped up his pace.

“Good fucking girl, begging like that…. shit… Alright, we’re counting down from 10. You can’t cum… until we reach 0.” You felt them both ready themselves to destroy you in those last 10 seconds and yet you didn’t care, nodding your head desperately.

“Good. 10”

They started, with a newly regained energy they went back to their quickest pace, no mercy this time. But you didn’t mind, you head went all fuzzy again and you got a far away look in your eyes.

“9”

“8”

“7”

“6”

“5”

One of Dabi's hands moved from your thigh and started to rub your clit again. You felt his grin against your shoulder and you cried out.

“Little more, babygirl. 4”

You felt the orgasm approach you like an oncoming train.

“3”

It wasn’t fair, none of this, you realized. But why did it turn you on so fucking much?

“2”

“1”

“Come on, (Y/N), cum.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement then that as you let the tidal wave hit you. It washed over you and made you spazz out, closing your eyes tightly as the two men didn’t stop. They became even more erratic in their movement and even quicker to pound in and out of you. As the white light flashed before your eyes you felt them cum too, filling you up yet they still moved. They both went quiet, trying to keep themselves from buckling under their own orgasms. Dabi’s fingers never stopped rubbing your clit.

Your orgasm had come and gone yet they didn't’t. Fucking. Stop. You were desperately whimpering and trying to pull away from the two but there was no way you could from your position. So you took it. Dabi’s fingers were rubbing your over sensitive clit and the two were like wild animals in heat as they kept fucking you. You didn’t know how but you didn’t care either, another orgasm was on its way way quicker than you had anticipated.

It hit you again and tears spotted your eyes, the electricity going through your body and making you shake once again. Only then did the two seem satisfied, slowing themselves down to a halt yet not pulling out. There’s was a moment of just silence apart from all of you panting and catching your breath from the whole ordeal. Then you started laughing

It was quiet but you laughed, exhausted. Soon the two joined in with their own quiet chuckled.

“Shit… That was really fucking good. Didn’t expect to have this good of a fucking time with this loser” Bakugou looked around you to give Dabi a look before looking back to you. He paused for a moment before he leaned up again, giving you a gentle kiss. You felt Dabi take his turn to leave a hickey on your neck as you kissed Bakugou but you couldn’t care less at that moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hot stuff. Thought you knew I was the best fuck in this whole damn place. Apart from angel here, of course” Dabi responded after he let go of your neck, happy with his work.

“So… Whose up for another shot?”

364 notes · View notes

puttingfingerstokeys · 3 years

Text

A little something I whipped up for @heamatic with her Shinnok in mind.

No timeline alignment stuff here, just pure gift work based on a thread we’ve got on my RP account @bastardsunlight. Ft. Shinnok being creepy because that’s kind of his thing. Shinlao, because we haven’t come up with a ship name and I am appalled at our laxity.

Also like, I can’t believe I’m saying this but neither writer is in any way under some fucked up impression that this is a good, safe, or non-toxic ship. We use the term to describe people who are involved IN SOME WAY. That way is not necessarily healthy.

This story features no NSFW instances.

The dimly lit corridors of the Bone Temple are familiar passageways to Kung Lao as he moves effortlessly toward the audience chamber where he will soon be needed. Shinnok does not often offer his time, but today, he evidently feels generous. It is therefore his favorite creature’s duty to attend as well. Lao has long since stopped thinking of himself as a monk or even a former one, though his spiritual power is still formidable. That life is behind him. Netherrealm is—if not his home—his territory.

Emerging from a massive double door at one side of the infernal hall, he surveys the emptiness of it, the cavernous opulence of the mad god’s particular tastes. Deeper, under vents in the floor—Shinnok appreciates the screams of his captives—is the dungeon proper, though the audience hall very much resembles it. The high pillars are of dark reds, shining obsidian, and shot through with veins of other colors difficult to distinguish in the Stygian light of the realm of dishonored dead. Everything is bone and sinew and suffering here, fire and brimstone and ugly deception.

“You have kept me waiting, little one,” purrs the Elder God of Chaos from his throne. It is, naturally, constructed of bones—not all humanoid. He leans to one side and regards Kung Lao with those inscrutable eyes characteristic of his kind. “Do you wish to bring punishment down on yourself?”

“No, master,” responds Kung Lao, approaching the dais and then ascending to within reach of the massive entity’s long arms. If Shinnok wishes to pull his guts out and toss him back down like a used doll, he may do so from anywhere; why inconvenience him?

“Yet you offer no explanation…” The Elder God’s finger came out and lifted Kung Lao’s chin before sliding down his neck, over the pretty young man’s Adam’s apple, and down to collar bone and chest. He has left this one alive, appreciating the responsive heat and goose flesh of living skin. It bruises so prettily.

“I offer no excuse, my lord.” Kung Lao meets his eyes with an impertinence he loves and hates and oh he has made the right choice in this one. He had known the moment they met upon the field of kombat that Kung Lao would, indeed, make an excellent addition to his collection.

“You are wise beyond your years, it seems, if a bit pert.” Shinnok retracts his hand and waves it about. “Well, get on with it. I’ve better things to do.”

Quan-Chi materializes presently, late as well, though his arrival receives no acknowledgement whatsoever. His dark lord spares not a glance, instead watching the retreating back of the foolish monk who exchanged his own freedom for the life of his friend. Sentiment is worthless in Netherrealm and soon, the arrogant boy will learn this, if the old soul sorcerer must show him the way with his own two hands. His fists clench with the thought, imagining themselves about Kung Lao’s throat, squeezing until something breaks. The pleasure that arises from the thought sends a shudder down his spine.

Meanwhile, Kung Lao, unaware of this contemplation—or if he is aware, he cares so little, he doesn’t bother sparing the man, if a thing like Quan-Chi can be called a man, a single glance—turns to descend the dais. An oversized bone arm which has sprouted from the stone and bone floor of the mad god’s receiving hall offers itself, open-palmed, to the fallen monk. Kung Lao accepts it gracefully, laying his hand in the much larger one, knowing he has not displeased his lord on this day. The dry, brittle-feeling digits wrap gently about the young man’s hand as he makes his graceful retreat to discharge his duties.

Quan-Chi scowls at Kung Lao’s back until Shinnok actually turns his attention on his favored sorcerer—really the only sorcerer who will competently serve him with true, deep loyalty. It really is pathetic to watch, but sometimes a whipped dog is better than no dog. Shinnok has not even had to whip this one. He’s done it of his own accord.

A strange Netherrealm native (as native as anyone can be in a realm of dishonored souls and demonic constructs born of the mad god’s fits of rage), it had been he who had approached the Elder God of rot and chaos to serve him. If Lord Shinnok could be said to be grateful for anything, he might have chosen that moment when Quan-Chi’s power had drawn him to his lord and master’s prison and set about events which would eventually free and embody him. Of course they have greater plans, but for the time being, this will do.

This will do very nicely indeed, he considers, regarding his little pet’s taut backside as Kung Lao makes his way through the hall, the bone arm now sliding along with him, digging a furrow in the ground which seems to knit itself together just a few feet behind the abomination which now has its hand on the curve of Kung Lao’s lower back. Every sensation the bone arm feels, he also feels and the warmth of living flesh is delightful; he wants to grasp it hard, make the boy squeal with pain, make him bleed a little. Just a little.

Perhaps later.

“You have some… news?” Quan-Chi has been scheming—he is always scheming—to manifest his dark, mad god in Earthrealm and he clearly believes he has hit upon something. Shinnok can see it in the sparkle of the man’s eyes. Oh how he loves me, contemplates the Elder God with absolutely no reciprocity of that feeling.

“I do, my lord,” responds the sorcerer, bowing to one knee and standing to deliver his findings. Shinnok listens patiently, mind elsewhere as it must always be. He is chaos incarnate. There is little order to be had in Netherrealm beyond his absolute rule. Not much can hold the attention of an Elder God, in general, but Shinnok in particular has always allowed his mind to wander where it will. Aside from grand machinations of upset and overthrow which delight him endlessly, there is almost nothing of such magnitude in all of existence—no single object or concept which can so fascinate him. What could possibly be of such import that he, a deity, might need to focus his energies on it for any length of time? The boy, some part of his thoughts remind him sweetly. You’re quite captivated with your new toy, aren’t you? Ah but toys come and go. He will tire of this one… eventually.

That boy is now crossing the threshold of the temple’s audience hall, the doors gliding open before him. The dry heat of Netherrealm has ceased to move him and he walks out into it, ushering in the first petitioner, wondering if his lord and master will listen to this one, or slay it on sight. Any creature, demon, or lost soul who is bold enough to approach the Bone Temple and beg favors of the lord of the Realm is desperate, addled, or too cocksure for their own good. An obliteration by the death god is permanent, it is nothingness, non-existence. Somehow, that void is more terrifying by far than the screaming, burning, howling dimness of Netherrealm.

The first demon in line—he is first by virtue of having killed his way up the queue; the corpses of those before him are littered in pieces here and there as a testament to this, all still twitching and flailing as the death he grants is only pain—is a truly imposing figure, easily ten feet in height, with massive, twisted horns like a ram and a maw full of jagged teeth. His eyes ablaze with contempt. This expression does not soften when it lays its burning gaze (with all four eyes) upon the pretty, behatted monk—Kung Lao may not think of himself as a monk, but they do—but rather hardens to something bordering on obscene. The thing licks slavering lips with an exaggerated motion, clearly aiming to upset the small, soft-looking mortal, who does not respond, only gestures to the hall.

“The master will see you now,” he says in a neutral tone that betrays nothing. “Please, follow me.”

As they enter, the beast’s three-toed feet hit the ground much harder with each step than might actually be necessary, as if to emphasize his weight. Shinnok leans back upon his throne and assumes a semi-attentive posture. There is no real reason for him to pretend he cares; even the pretense is worthless, but for now, it entertains him. Some of the denizens of his realm wait the Netherrealm equivalent of months, even years, if Shinnok is indisposed and simply does not care. Lately, he has been taking more audiences, but then he has only lately had a… secretary. Kung Lao moves swiftly ahead of the demon, braid swinging tantalizingly behind his shapely back. The boy is an hourglass, upon close inspection, broad of shoulder, narrow of waist, and thick of hip and rear-end. The demon is inspecting.

“This is far enough,” instructs Kung Lao. “What are you called?”

The demon splutters with indignation. How could they not know him, the greatest general of the northern armies of Khadul, the god-king of the demons, the true creatures of Netherrealm! He has severely overestimated his importance, a grave error in the Bone Temple. The silent hall rings with its silence. An audience chamber ought necessarily to have an audience, but Shinnok prefers the cavernous immensity. It reiterates just how small his petitioners truly are. He eyes the demon, but has yet to speak. A bone arm sprouts near Kung Lao and it makes a twirling motion with its forefinger.

“Lord Shinnok bids you speak,” says the shapely boy through plump lips that look like they ought to be bruised and bloodied and used, in the creature’s foul opinion.

“I will speak,” he snarls, reaching out toward Kung Lao with the intent to brush past, “but with the lord of this Realm, he in whose temple we stand, not you, little slut. There are things I would do with you, yes, but speaking… it is not one of them.” The demon’s laughter rings out boldly into the hall, bouncing off the skulls and femurs and ribs and myriad other bones which make the walls, floor, and ceiling. Quan-Chi flinches minutely, though more at the brazenness of it than the sound. Shinnok is a statue. The bone arm has dissipated, crumbling like ash and ruin, leaving Lao alone. His lord is watching.

“No,” says Kung Lao, the syllable sharp and clear as a pretty bell rung in a mausoleum—and equally as incongruous next to the obscene, guttural speech of the demon. “No,” he repeats, “you do not speak. You bark like a mangy cur begging for scraps. Heel.”

He rushes the demon with lightning speed as it swings for him. There is a brief moment when it seems he might make a try for the beast’s sizeable testes, which swing visibly behind the scant loincloth one might say he is “wearing”. The idea occurs to him and a strange flash of melancholic amusement jolts Kung Lao’s spine before he disappears beneath his hat in a flash of red light and lotus petals. The creature, having never encountered this particular mortal, looks baffled and squats to examine the hat. Quan-Chi’s mouth opens to warn the beast of its insolence in his master’s presence, but a sharp gesture from said master silences him. His face heats with rage. How dare the boy show off this way? He will be punished—perhaps disemboweled or flayed. How delicious that would be!

As the as yet unnamed demon reaches toward the object to pick it up, the flash occurs once more and the deadly piece of headwear flips upward, turning vertically, its far edge held by the owner, the only man in any realm able to master such a strange weapon. The creature barely has time to cry out as Kung Lao draws the hat up its entirety, bisecting the thing and spilling its steaming insides along the floor. Midair, Kung Lao flings the hat, hard, toward Shinnok. Once more, Quan-Chi blanches, but the mad god catches it easily and holds it, bottom facing downward, toward his knees where he sits. This, he thinks, is the most fun I have had in millennia.

Kung Lao’s form plummets toward the gory mess he has made and for a brief, shining moment, Quan-Chi thinks perhaps he will fall and snap his neck and that will be that, one last escape attempt with the final spark of the monk’s spirit left to him. Lord Shinnok has no need of a broken doll. Of course this is a flight of pure fancy. Shinnok will find a use for that beautiful body, even broken.

Alas, rather than crashing to his death—or maiming, at least—Kung Lao’s body dives into a circle of blood, red light, once more accompanied by a flash and flurry of lotus petals. It takes only half a moment for him to repeat the trick, falling out of the hat and into his lord and master’s waiting lap. Shinnok allows the hat to settle upon Kung Lao’s head and once more tilts his chin upward so that their eyes meet.

“Far too impertinent,” he scolds, shaking his head, running his thumb over his little doll’s full, perfect, soft lower lip. Kung Lao is flushed with the pleasure of his accomplishment and hasn’t a spot of blood on his person. “Who are you to decide who I do and do not address, hmm? Is this not my domain?”

“His master would pretend it is not. One cannot serve two lords and you rule this Realm.” This is not a question, nor is it simpering. Kung Lao speaks cold, hard facts. “I merely saved you the trouble of hearing a dog bark.”

So bold, Shinnok thinks. I must curb this. But he does not punish his little favorite. The unpredictability delights him. Quan-Chi senses this misplaced delight and recedes from the receiving hall unseen, glowering over his shoulder and now hellbent on perfecting his machinations to bring his master to Earthrealm.

#violence #cc #cw #mortal kombat #kung lao #shinnok #shinlao #gift work

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ethanlivemere · 3 years

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Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 2

(Prologue and chapter 1 can be found on my profile)

Chapter 2

Friendly Faces

Barney Calhoun was a valued member of the Black Mesa Security Force. He did his job well and was particularly respected by the other security guards for his ability to passive-aggressively give a piece of his mind to some of the more pompous scientists who treated the security team as their inferiors, without ever directly disobeying their orders. He was the kind of guy you could grab a beer with after work – something I had been meaning to do for a long time before the… incident. I had always felt I had more in common with him than any of my fellow scientists: not only did we both have the bad habit of not being the most punctual, but he also gave a me a good run for my money when it came to my high scores on the Black Mesa Hazard Course. While other scientists were busy competing for grant money, I was out trying to one-up Barney at the shooting range.

I thought he was dead. That he had been lost in the aftermath of the Resonance Cascade, eaten by a bullsquid, or worse, turned into a grotesque zombie like so many others. And yet, here he is, standing in front of me with his arms spread as he cheekily grins at me, now sporting the black Metropolice uniform instead of the familiar BMSF standard-issue bulletproof vest and helmet. His face, previously hidden behind the white gasmask, looks older than I remember. The first hints of gray have started to appear at the base of his dark hair and in his 5 o’clock shadow. His face looks tired and worn out beneath his cheerful expression. The eyes are what give it away: I’ve seen the same exhausted eyes on every citizen I have encountered so far. They’re the eyes of a man who has been through hell. Well, I guess that’s one more thing we have in common.

“Surprised to see me?” Barney asks, noticing the probably visible confusion on my face. “Well, that makes two of us, Gordon. Where’ve you been? It’s been ten years, man!” Ten years. So the man in the suit was telling the truth. It’s really been ten years since Black Mesa. What happened in that time? “Sorry about the scare earlier, I had to put on a show for the cameras,” Barney says, pointing over his shoulder at the disabled scanner on the ceiling. “Listen, I know you have a lot of questions but I can’t keep you here too long. I’ve been working undercover with Civil Protection, we need to get you out of here before they get suspicious. All I can tell you for now is that if you thought Black Mesa was as bad as it could get, well… you’re in for a nasty surprise.” He turns around and starts fiddling with the console. Symbols flash on the screens, the same symbols that I saw on the Consul’s broadcasts and the red bands on the shoulders of the Metrocop uniforms. Whatever they are, Barney seems to understand them.

“Okay Gordon, we’re gonna try to get you to Dr. Kleiner’s lab. It’s not too far from here, in an old warehouse in an industrial part of the city.” Kleiner? Does he mean… Isaac Kleiner? Could he be alive too? “I can’t take you there personally unfortunately, I have a shift to get to if I don’t want to blow my cover. But I’ll let one of my guys in the streets know you’re coming, he’ll show you the way.” Barney walks to a small window that looks out over an equally small courtyard. He opens it and looks out. “Go through that door over there. You should be able to get to the plaza. My guy will meet you there.” He walks back to the desk and starts putting the front of his mask back in place.

I look through the window. It’s about an eight foot drop; nothing I can’t handle. The claustrophobic courtyard is empty save for a trashcan lying on its side on the mossy tiles. The door Barney was talking about is the only entrance or exit. I look back to the once again unrecognizable Barney. I briefly thank him, and he salutes me with two fingers. “I’ll see you later, Gordon. Try not to draw any attention to yourself,” his distorted voice sounds through the mask. I nod him goodbye and swing my leg over the windowsill, effortlessly jumping down and landing safely. I look up and see the window being closed. I guess I’m on my own again.

The rusty door takes me to a small boiler room, which leads into a short corridor. I let my instincts and the faint sound of the Consul’s voice guide me through the station and I soon find myself in the entrance hall. Like the rest of the building, it is a dilapidated remnant of former glory. What once were ticket booths have been transformed into some sort of dispensing machine, which slowly spits out featureless brown packages into the eager hands of the shabby citizens who form a long, patient queue under the watchful eye of Metrocops. Above them, the Consul spouts the same repeating message: “Welcome to City 17.”

A woman walks by, clutching her newly received package against her chest. I can now see some of the alien symbols on the brown, paper-like exterior, as well as some readable text: 4 rations. She glances at me but quickly directs her eyes back to the ground in front of her as she walks towards the exit. I follow her to the large, wooden double doors. She takes one hand off the ration packet to open the door, but in doing so looses her grip on the packet and drops it on the floor with a soft thud. She nervously glances around as she quickly picks it back up again, and I decide to help out by opening the door for her. I try to give her the warmest smile I can fake as she walks by. “We can’t be seen talking to each other,” is the only thing she mutters to me under her breath as she heads out into the daylight.

Although… daylight might be an exaggeration. The sight that greets me when I step outside is no different in tone than the station and the train ride before it, yet it still shakes me to my core. The plaza consists of a small, empty fountain surrounded by dead hedges and flanked by two tall pillars, each topped with a bronze statue of a prancing horse. Plastic bags, empty bottles and other kinds of small trash litter the otherwise empty street surrounding the plaza, and the only vehicle is a large armored car surrounded by a patrol of Metrocops. The few citizens that walk the street keep as close to the surrounding buildings – abandoned stores and boarded-off hotels – as possible. It is then that my eye falls on the gigantic structure that emerges beyond the buildings. It’s a looming spire of rust brown metal that forms an irregular shape I recognize from the various posters around the train station. Its exact height is impossible to tell as it disappears into the greenish clouds that obstruct the sky, but there is no doubt it is incredibly large – so large, in fact, that I’m amazed it took me so long to notice it. Several of the metal plates that layer the outside of the structure seem to move at very slow paces, almost as if the building is alive, and sometimes it looks like something flies in to or out of one of the many slits and crevices in the jagged exterior.

I tear my gaze away from the ominous sight and scan the plaza more attentively. Barney said he would have a guy tell me where to go once I got out of the station, but I can’t spot a single citizen not minding their own business like their lives depend on it – which they probably do. I walk down the stairs in front of the station’s entrance. I follow the citizens’ example and keep close to the buildings, heading the opposite way of the Metrocop patrol. I duck into a shadowy doorway to get out of their sightline and look around again when I hear a hushed “Hey!” coming from a bit further down the street that sprouts from the plaza. I see a young man beckoning me from another doorway. I glance around for Metrocops, decide that the coast is clear and hurry towards him. He is dark-haired, wears the same familiar citizen’s uniform and looks to be about my age… come to think of it, what is my age? Barney was about my age at Black Mesa, but the ten years since then are clearly visible on him, while the few times I’ve seen my own reflection since my ‘awakening’ hadn’t shown me any changes in my own appearance.

The man pulls me out of my thoughts when he grabs my arm and pulls me into the shadow of the doorway. “You’re Freeman, right?” I nod. “The name’s Jeremy. Barney told me to get you to Kleiner’s.” He looks at my chest, where Samuel had earlier noted the absence of an identity tag. “We won’t be able to get you through checkpoints since you’re not a registered citizen. Just follow me.” He starts walking down the street and looks at me over his shoulder. “It’s great to have you with us, Freeman. There’s no doubt you’ll be a great help in our fight against the Combine.”

I follow Jeremy through the abandoned streets of City 17. He seems to be excellent at avoiding Civil Protection, because we never cross them; I only ever see them in adjacent streets. Sometimes they are accompanied by an armored vehicle, sometimes they are stationed at a barricade of black metal, watching people get scanned before a gate opens to let them through. I guess these are the checkpoints we can’t pass through – or at least I can’t. While we walk, my guide confirms what I already knew: after the Resonance Cascade, Earth was invaded by an alien empire he calls the ‘Combine’, who laid waste to the planet and enslaved humanity. The otherworldly skyscraper in the middle of the city – called the Citadel – is their bastion. Apparently, every city has its own Citadel, but the one in City 17 is special in that it is also the residence of the Consul – Earth’s new leader.

He then tells me about a resistance group fighting back against the Combine rule. He says there are many resistance fighters outside of the city, but that Barney and Dr. Kleiner lead the more covert operatives within City 17. He remarks that I probably know Kleiner and I nod. I don’t just know Isaac Kleiner, he was my professor and mentor at MIT. I was one of his favorite and ‘most promising’ students (his words), and when I applied for the position of research associate at Black Mesa, it was Kleiner’s recommendation that got me the job, where I worked alongside him on the Anomalous Materials team until… Well, let’s try not to think about that too much now. It seems there are bigger issues at hand than regret.

Even though we successfully evade the Metrocops and their checkpoints, the Combine is visible everywhere in one way or another. For a start there is the Citadel always towering over the rooftops, a menacing silhouette on the dark sky. But the old, human-built buildings have also been corrupted by Combine technology. Large, complex locking mechanisms cling onto old wooden doors like tumorous growths. Smaller versions of the enormous wall I saw surrounding the city fill up gaps they themselves made, obsidian metal swallowing brick and stone. Watchtowers and other Combine structures have been planted on top of buildings, walls and roofs bending under their weight. Cables and pipelines run across and through walls like vines sprouting from concrete. There’s something almost fascinating about how the stoic, geometric order of the human city and the clean, essentialist order of the Combine tech overlap in a patchwork with chaos and destruction wherever they meet.

A rhythmic sound has been growing louder for a while now. Upon listening more closely, I realize it’s the sound of marching. An army marching. Jeremy rounds a corner and stops dead in his tracks. “Damn it… not good.” Down the street, at an intersection with a wide boulevard, I see dozens of soldiers walking in formation. They look a lot like Metrocops, but their masks are dark gray and they wear thick padding in camouflage colors instead of the black uniforms. They carry automatic rifles and their heavy combat boots send echoing thuds through the streets. I see several people standing by, watching the military procession walk down the street. My companion walks closer and I cautiously follow him. “Really not good. We have to cross this street, but this parade blocks our path.” He looks to both sides as if estimating its length. “I can’t even see the synths yet. This could easily go on for another twenty minutes. We can’t wait that long.” He looks up at the buildings flanking the street and points to a skyway that connects two apartment buildings on either side. “There.” I follow him down the street as he heads towards a large opening in the wall of the apartment building with the skyway. The opening is closed off by a cast iron fence, but its lock seems to have been broken for a long time and Jeremy simply pushes it open. It turns out to be a passage to a courtyard between the apartment buildings, with dark, vigilant windows and balconies looking out over it.

“Okay, you’re not supposed to come here if you don’t live here, so technically we’re trespassing,” Jeremy says to me as we make our way to the exterior staircase on one of the high walls surrounding the courtyard. “Then again, you were already illegal, so-” He cuts himself off abruptly freezes, seemingly listening. Over the still loud marching I can hear a soft, mechanical whirr with an occasional beep. Jeremy looks up and immediately grabs me. “Combot!” he shouts as he pulls me in the direction of the nearest door. I catch a brief glimpse of a floating drone with a single yellow eye before a bright, white flash blinds me. I stumble backwards and Jeremy, presumably also blinded, starts swearing with panic in his voice. The slow beeps of the drone turn into an alarm as I slowly regain my sense of sight, and when I can properly see again I find it’s still hovering in the same spot. By now I have seen enough examples of Combine technology to recognize that this so-called Combot is another one. Four metal flaps surround its eye, which has now turned red as it shines its flashlight onto us and continues its alarm.

Jeremy grabs me again and pushes me towards the staircase. “Look, it’s too late now. They know we’re here, there will be Metrocops swarming all over this place in half a minute. You gotta get out of here and get to Kleiner’s. I’ll hold them off.”

I try to object but am interrupted by a distant female voice echoing through the air: “Attention, Civil Protection team: unauthorized civil activity detected in residential block 67B. Investigate and report.”

Jeremy looks to the sky as if he’s looking for the source of the disembodied voice and then looks back to me. “Go through the residential block across the street, through the industrial district. Barney will meet you at the Manhack Arcade.” He points to something on the wall next to the stairs: between the various graffiti is a familiar Greek letter drawn in orange paint. “Follow the lambdas. They indicate safe routes for Resistance allies. Go!”

I hesitate for a second. I don’t want to leave him behind in the clutches of Civil Protection, but he doesn’t seem like he’s planning on going anywhere, so I give him a respectful nod before turning around and running up the stairs. I go as fast as I can, and I am almost at the top when I hear footsteps and the shriek of the broken gate. I look down and see several Metrocops run onto the courtyard with their batons ready. Jeremy puts his hands on his head before he gets grabbed by two Metrocops and forced onto his knees. One Metrocop steps forward. He looks different than the others, wearing a trench coat and carrying some kind of radio pack on his back. He asks Jeremy a question I can’t understand and when he doesn’t get an answer, he gestures to one of the Metrocops holding Jeremy down. A flash of blue as a stun baton is planted in Jeremy’s side. His body shakes a second before he falls to the ground. The trench coat-wearing Metrocop, probably an officer, barks a couple of brief orders. I can only understand a couple of words: “There were two”. I have to get out of here.

I ascend the final steps as quickly and as quietly as I can. There’s a wooden door at the top. I fidget with the handle. It’s unlocked. I open it, slip inside, and close it behind me. No time to rest. I hear the Metrocops coming up the stairs, and the Combot’s light seeps through the crack under the door. Got to keep moving. I scan the hallway. Apartment doors. Staircase. It’s dark: there are no windows and the lights don’t work, but there is daylight coming from around a corner down the hall. My footsteps echo on the brown ceramic tiles as I run past the closed doors and onto the skyway we had seen from below. Down in the street, the Combine troops are still marching. There are different units among them now. Hulking, mechanical figures, appearing to be almost eight feet tall, carrying enormous alien weaponry no human would be able to carry. These must be the synths Jeremy mentioned. Nestled deep in the armor between the bulky shoulders is something that doesn’t seem completely mechanical. I don’t stay to have a better look. Something tells me it would only disturb me.

I hear Metrocops banging on doors as I start making my way down the stairs of the building on the other side of the road, occasionally followed by a crash of splintering wood. The Metrocops bark orders at panicking citizens as they search the apartments. I use their preoccupation to put more distance between us, sincerely hoping my actions don’t get any of the inhabitants into serious trouble. I descend creaky stairs that wrap around the grating of an elevator shaft. A man stands in a doorway, curious about the noises that echo all the way from the other building, while a woman behind him urges him to go inside and close the door before they get here. I make brief eye contact with the man as I descend. My look must give away that I’m the cause of the tumult, because he whispers to me: “Go through the back door on the ground floor. I never saw you.” Another plea from the woman and he retreats into his apartment and closes the door.

I’m not sure I can trust the man. He might be leading me into a trap, or maybe he will point the Metrocops to where I went when they come knocking on his door. But right now, I have little choice but to accept all the help I can get if I ever want to reach Dr. Kleiner. When I reach the ground floor, there is an entrance hall with rows of mailboxes and a transparent door that leads out into a large street. I can see why the man told me to go out the back: it’s the street where the hordes of soldiers are still marching. I look around for a back door and find it in a windowless, unlit room filled with cardboard boxes. I have to move some of them to get the door open. Beyond the door is a courtyard much like the one where we got spotted by the Combot. The coast seems clear.

I can already tell which way I have to go. Amidst a tapestry of graffiti, there is another lambda drawn in orange spray paint next to a narrow passage. As I follow its guidance, I wonder why they chose this symbol for their ‘safe passages’. I mean, I can certainly guess where they got it from. Word must have gotten out about the Lambda lab’s part in stopping the Resonance Cascade – though, ultimately, it hardly saved Earth. Plus, no one at Black Mesa can really be praised for solving a problem we caused.

Having time to think again as I walk through the alleyway, I ponder exactly what happened to me during the ten years I was in the dark void. By now, I have come to the conclusion that I haven’t aged. My hair and beard haven’t grown, I haven’t gained or lost weight, my joints and muscles aren’t sore. But at the same time, my wounds and bruises from the Black Mesa incident seem to have completely healed. None of the clothes I’m wearing are clothes I have ever owned, yet my glasses are the ones I had on me during the Black Mesa disaster. The ones I managed not to lose throughout all the perils I faced and were cracked and stained with blood by the end, but now rest on my face clean and unscathed.

My memories of the void are a blur, like a distant dream. If it weren’t for the radically changed world I find myself in, I would think it never happened. On top of that, my memories from before the void have also gone blurry – or, rather, before Black Mesa. I can remember Black Mesa like it was yesterday, but my life before Black Mesa (MIT, high school, my parental home…) feels like a vaguely remembered childhood memory, even the things that happened when I was well over twenty. Is this his doing? Is he trying to erase the person I was, only to leave a mindless fighting machine in his stead? Or is it merely a result of the deterioration of a mind over the course of ten years of isolation?

I’m no longer walking between apartment buildings. The streets are narrow and the walls are all brick and pipes and steel beams. Steam rises from grates in the ground and mixes with the faint fog that hangs between the buildings. There is a constant whir of machinery coming from behind the walls. A train passes overhead on the elevated tracks while a lone Combot combs the empty streets. I try my best to stay out of its sight. The train sounds its horn. The Combot rounds a corner. I get the impression the sky has gotten even darker since I left the station.

A strange contraption stands lonely on the sidewalk. It’s a cylindrical tank filled with red liquid, cradled in a humming machine with green gauge lights and power cables running into the wall behind it. Like all other Combine technology, it looks extremely out of place, like someone just dropped it on the street and punched jagged holes into the wall to fit the cables. The Combine clearly plant their machines and facilities wherever they need them without a care for whatever was there before. It makes me angry, of course, but the irony doesn’t escape me. After all, it’s exactly what we did on Xen.

There is a silhouette in the dark liquid. Vaguely humanoid, curled up into a fetal position. I can just about discern a large red eye, half-closed, on the creature’s head. Even through the thick liquid, the shape appears… familiar. It seems impossible to believe, but it almost looks like…

“The Freeman.”

The voice behind me startles me and I spin around. Before me stands a green, hunched over figure with shackles around its long neck, wrists and ankles. All of its red eyes are on me and a vestigial third arm extends itself towards me. If there was any doubt about the creature in the tank, here it is unmistakable: I am standing in front of a Vortigaunt.

“At last, the Combine’s reckoning has come.”

Chapter 3

_________________________________

Yes, you read this right: chapter 2 of Anticitizen, which has been in production since July 2020, is finally finished! And boy, is it a long one! 4000 words, and yet we still haven't even gotten to Dr. Kleiner's lab! (Don't worry, we'll get there soon).

Anywho, here are the accompanying images:

Beta Citadel

Combot

Metropolice officer

Combine Guard synth

Industrial district

Vorti-cell

I'm very excited to finally have this done and ready to be read. I think (and really hope) the next chapter won't take as long. As I said in the last progress update, I have been doing a lot of overarching planning for the story which will make writing easier.

I have made a rough estimate of the story and predict it will be about 32 chapters long, though it's much more likely to be more than that than less, judging from the fact that it's taking 3 chapters just to get to Kleiner's lab. The thing is, you can't predict the length things will have in this story by looking at their length in the game. The opening requires a lot of describing and mood-setting so it's much longer than the short intro in the game. Story parts will be longer than they are in the game, while action parts will be shorter than they are in the game (looking at you, 'Canals' and 'Highway' sections).

By the way, I have started uploading Anticitizen to Reddit now under the name EthanLM427. Do with that what you want.

Anyway, that's it for me. I promise I won't take as long for the next one.

#anticitizen #half life #half life 2 #half life 2 beta #my writing #fanfiction #gordon freeman #barney calhoun

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litniche · 3 years

Text

For as Long as We Both Shall Live

Damie Fic, Read on ao3

From a few pews back on the bride’s side of the aisle, Flora didn’t look at all splendid. She looked perfect. She was beaming. Her eyes shone and her grin split her features as the groom recited his portion of the vows.

“I take you to be my lawful wife.”

Jamie balanced too many things in her hands as she tried to unlock the door upon arriving home. Like her, the thing was stubborn. Ultimately, she gave up and jammed the manila envelope she held in one hand into her mouth, holding it gingerly between her lips as she finally managed to twist the key and the knob at the same time--the trick to it.

“Well the queue was shite!” she called into the home, knowing Dani will have been home by now, “but I’ve got it. Our union is officially civil.” The gardener smiled at the notion, and tossed the documentation onto the catch-all by the door.

“To have and to hold,”

Dani had put on that movie again--the one Jamie couldn’t remember the name of, but knew had Audrey Hepburn. Dani couldn’t seem to get enough of the woman. Jamie might be jealous, but she wasn't the possessive type. Besides, as she curled up next to Dani, weaving their legs together as she opened a book, it turned out she needn't be. Audrey was good, but she couldn’t make Dani laugh the way Jamie could. As Dani grinned and chuckled at the movie, Jamie felt a small smile find its way to her lips. She planted a gentle kiss to the former au pair’s chest before leaning further into the woman to rest her head there. She felt Dani’s head rest atop hers. Dani’s heartbeat was strong and steady, and at peace.

“From this day forth,”

Jamie shook her head. She was already halfway home from the Manor. There was no point in turning around to go back now. She’d see Dani tomorrow or soon enough. Why go back now? Besides, the woman was clearly not ready to start anything. Though, if Jamie were being honest with herself, she knew that wasn’t true. The au pair was haunted--literally haunted. Her ex was taking up space in her life that he no longer had claim to. That wasn’t Dani’s fault. Jamie found herself thinking she would gladly chase away his dark shadow. Because Dani was ready. Every brush of Dani’s hand, every smile, every laugh, every mind-blowing kiss, and every tangential remark about a certain pub located just below a certain flat, was a gesture. Dani was ready. She’d made it pretty clear, in more ways than the gardener could count.

The problem remained: was the gardener ready? Up until now, Jamie fancied herself a lone wolf of sorts. People simply weren’t worth it. Plants took your devotion, your time, and they showed you something for it. From leafling to bloom, they rewarded your every effort. People, on the other hand, were more likely to punish you for it. Right now, her life was good. Boring. Dull. Of little consequence. But good.

So why turn around? Why go back to Bly Manor? Why ask Owen to stick around (because, let’s face it, Hannah was less and less there these days and someone needed to watch the kids if Jamie was going to steal Dani away)?

At last, the gardener paused on the road, because she finally knew the answer to her questions. Why go back? It was simple: it had been a rough day. Maybe Jamie’s life was good because it was boring, but what about Dani? The au pair could use a bit of boredom-- a break from far too much excitement that life was determined to send her way. From this day forth, Jamie had a strange feeling she’d fancy being that bit of boredom.

“For better,”

“‘I’ll have no problem setting up the bed, Dani!’” the former au pair quoted the gardener, eyeing her with accusatory daggers and gesturing toward the very-much-unfinished bed setup.

The gardener was busted. She had zero excuses. Quite simply, she’d forgotten to set up the bed, distracted by the far more interesting needs of their new shop, The Leafling. By the time she’d remembered the bed, and read the paltry leaflet of instructions, she’d discovered the bed's setup was more of a two-man job. Or, two-woman job, as it were.

“I’m sorry,” she started, giving Dani a sheepish, pleading look. She stepped forward, encircling the blonde in her arms and going for that spot on Dani’s neck that she knew Dani couldn’t resist. Before long, Dani giggled and the gardener could practically feel Dani’s eyes rolling, but her arms wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders as she laughed. The gardener held the woman even closer, slipping one leg between the other woman’s as one of Dani’s hooked around her hip.

“I’m sorry!” Jamie said again, chuckling.

“Better be,” Dani laughed out the empty threat.

“For worse,”

Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a while, but Dani wasn’t telling her what it was. Here they were, about to be ‘officially civil,’ and Dani was pulling away. Jamie could feel it. She could feel every inch of Dani slipping away from her, but the woman wouldn’t tell her what was happening. And Jamie was afraid to ask. But that wouldn’t do, would it?

“ Are we going to talk?” Jamie finally managed to say, drying a pan Dani had handed her as the blonde scrubbed at a plate.

Dani was silent, scrubbing harder and refusing to look at Jamie.

Jamie closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, disallowing the hurt to sink in. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” she said, and turned to put away the dish.

The gardener turned back to look at Dani, but the blonde didn’t appear to be staring at the water to ignore her--she looked possessed. Suddenly, Dani gasped and stood back, dropping the plate so that it shattered all over the kitchen.

“Jesus!” Jamie stepped toward the blonde, her brows furrowed with worry. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Dani was still staring at the sink; her breathing was irregular and heavy, like she was running from something, and tears trailed down her cheeks. “I saw-- I saw her,” she whispered. “She’s there.”

No. Not yet. No.

Jamie checked the sink and then looked back at Dani. “What did you see?” she asked.

“Her,” Dani whispered still. “I keep seeing her.”

“Okay,” Jamie nodded slightly. “Right.” She stepped over the larger shards of the plate and hurried to turn off the sink, letting the water drain. “Okay, it’s gone,” she said, hoping to reassure Dani. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

“Is it?”

“It’s okay.”

Dani just shook her head as she finally made eye contact with Jamie, a horrible expression of fear written all over her beautiful face.

Jamie shook her head, too. She refused to let this happen--to stand idly by. “You’re going to be okay,” she said. “You can’t think the worst, all right? Okay?”

“Jamie,” Dani whispered, unconvinced, and her gaze drifted once more.

“We don’t know what this means!” Jamie said with desperation now. “We--We could have so many more years together.” She held Dani’s face, trying to regain eye contact. “Dani,” she scanned the woman’s face, “we could have so many more years.”

The gardener didn’t know whether she was trying to convince Dani or herself at this point, but at last, Dani nodded.

“Okay? We’ll keep an eye on it,” Jamie said lamely, “and it’ll be fine.”

Dani breathed more easily now, and watched Jamie’s words form on her lips, as if concentrating on them would make them true.

“Okay? It’s going to be okay,” Jamie reassured her. She held Dani’s face in both hands, then rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to soothe away her fears. “I’ll do the washing up from now on. Yeah?” She cocked her head, saying “You’re shit at it anyway.”

Dani laughed. She laughed, and it was as if the air returned to the room. It would be okay, just like Jamie had told her. It had to be. They could have so many more years.

“For richer or for poorer”

Dani was biting her lip and carding her fingers through her bangs as she bent over receipts and invoices atop the counter in The Leafling . Her eyes - one brown, one blue - scanned her notepad as she double-checked her work and a smirk started to tease at her lips. “I can feel you watching me.”

Jamie’s brows arched as she played with a bit of baby’s breath, not really doing anything. “Oh you can, can you?”

Dani made a final swipe at their bank book with her pen before closing it, evidently finished. “Yep,” she said with a pop at the end. Her smirk was fully on display now and was downright devious. Jamie might have to figure out a way to wipe it off that beautiful face. For the moment, she watched as Dani crossed one leg over the other on her stool, her legs on full display beneath a little black velvet skirt.

Jamie’s eyes trailed their way from those far-too-tempting limbs up Dani’s form until their eyes met each other. Dani was practically grinning now. The Yank knew exactly what she was doing to the poor gardener. “And what if I like staring at you?” Jamie asked.

Dani’s grin disappeared beneath her teeth as she bit her lip in response. Anyone save Jamie might not have noticed that her eyes became darker and her chest moved up and down a little quicker as her breathing sped up.

It was the middle of the day and though things hadn’t picked up in the shop just yet, Jamie was expecting a rush. It was Valentine’s Day, after all, and Americans loved spending their money to show each other how much they care. At any moment, they might have been interrupted, and that was the only reason Jamie was still only staring. She could feel her own breath quicken and she made a conscious effort to remind herself that as soon as they closed, it was her and Dani’s Valentine’s Day, too.

“You seem in good sorts,” Jamie said and flailed to change the subject, “are the books looking good?”

Dani sighed, carding her fingers through her hair before leaning onto the counter. “They’re fine. We’re not poor, but we’re not rich.”

The gardener shrugged. “I’ll take it,” she said, turning back to one of their ready-to-go Valentine’s Day bouquets of red roses and baby’s breath to fiddle with its arrangement for the eighteenth time. Idle hands.

Jamie shiverred when a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind. Dani caught one of her ears between her teeth gently before she whispered, “I’ll take you,” in a teasing manner.

Laughing and scrunching her nose in mock disapproval of the lame word play, Jamie stopped to hold Dani’s arms in place. They rocked back and forth, and Dani sprinkled soft kisses across Jamie’s shoulders. “I love you,” she whispered.

They could have watered the entire shop’s worth of flowers from the puddle those words had just made Jamie. “I love you, too, Poppins.”

“In sickness and in health,”

Dani looked ready for war. Upon returning from the drug store and banging around in the kitchen, she appeared armed with vapor rub, cough drops, nasal spray, warm wash cloths, honey and citrus tea (made under strict instructions Jamie had once left on a note on the fridge), tissues, and most of all, very big and very worried eyes. Jamie almost felt more sorry for Dani than for herself.

“You know, it’s just a cold, Poppins,” she said from the bed.

“You don’t get sick,” Dani said, and she frowned. She sat beside Jamie on the edge of the bed. “We’ve had The Leafling for years and I don’t think I remember you skipping one day of work before this.” She worried her lip as she looked down at the warm wash cloth she was folding.

Humoring her, Jamie closed her eyes and let the woman dampen her forehead. Then she let Dani apply the pungent vapor rub to her chest--that bit wasn’t so bad. Pillows were fluffed and her temperature was taken. Jamie drew the line, though, when Dani made as if to apply a tissue to Jamie’s nose for her to blow.

“I’m fine, Poppins. Honestly. I just need a day taking it easy. I’ll be back down in the shop tomorrow, love.”

The former au pair shook her head. “Only if you’re better.”

“I’ll be better,” Jamie assured her. She reached for Dani’s hand and linked their pinkies before bringing them to her lips so she could kiss her own thumb in a promise.

“Well, it’s a Tuesday. The shop shouldn't be that busy anyway, so I’ve left a note with our number in case anyone needs something. Meantime, I’ll keep you company.” She smiled and tucked a strand of Jamie’s hair behind an ear. “Can I get you anything else?”

The gardener nodded her head and curled a finger to direct the woman to come closer. Concern in her eyes, Dani hovered above Jamie as she waited for instructions. Instead, Jamie pulled her down on top of her, grinning when she heard Dani giggle with an “oof!” It made her laugh and that caused a bit of a coughing fit that made Dani spring back as if she’d scorched the gardener with a hot fire-poker. “I��m so sorry!”

“Oh baby, come here,” Jamie managed. She patted the spot next to her. “I swear to you, I’m fine.”

“Well, I think you should rest.” “Good, you’re my favorite pillow. Don’t make a sick woman ask again.”

Dani rolled her eyes, but climbed into bed after removing her shoes. After settling against the headboard, she guided Jamie to rest on her chest. “Do you want me to put something on? A movie?”

Jamie nodded as she nuzzled further into the woman, closing her eyes. “You pick.”

“I’ve already got a good one in. I’ll just play that one?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jamie said in a haze. She could feel herself drifting.

At some point, Jamie woke up, but it was dark out. She couldn’t tell if it was late evening or the middle of the night. She looked up to see that Dani was still awake. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. You hungry?”

“A girl could get used to this,” Jamie smiled. She kissed Dani’s chest. “A bit of pasta with butter would sit right, I think.”

“I’ll go make it,” Dani said eagerly. She kissed the top of Jamie’s head and gently extricated herself.

“Dani?” Jamie called.

Dani stopped just before leaving the room. “Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Dani’s expression softened. She leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom as she smiled at Jamie. “Anytime.”

“...for as long as we both shall live.”

The groom finished his vows and Flora’s grin was still brilliant. It was her turn now, and Jamie remembered all those years ago at Bly Manor--how Flora so enjoyed reciting her own lines. She was surprised Flora hadn’t written her own vows, in fact, but then again it had been many years since the budding theatre artist had written and performed anything as far as the gardener knew.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Jamie imagined saying to Dani. “Doesn’t she look happy?”

“Like us,” Jamie imagined Dani saying in return. Then she would have weaved their arms together as she leaned in close to her side.

“Like us,” Jamie nodded in agreement with the phantom Dani. She caught Owen’s tear-glistened eye and smiled fondly. The poor sap.

“He’s such a romantic . Always has been ,” Dani would have told her. Jamie could almost imagine the feel of Dani squeezing her hand. “Such as shame he never found anyone again,” Dani might have said.

Jamie disagreed with that. “The vows are ‘for as long as we both shall live,’ love. I don’t think anyone would measure up to Hannah for him. No one could ever measure up to you.”

Dani would have tsked and told her she hadn’t really tried. In truth, Jamie hadn’t. People were exhaustive. Every great once in a while, you might find the walking personification of a moonflower, but she’d already done that. She had experienced so many years of beauty and devotion and love. It hadn’t been enough, but it had been more than she ever thought possible.

The rest of the day blurred from one aspect of ceremony to the next. Before she knew it, Jamie was back in her hotel room. She checked the mirror, then the sink, and even the tub, but knew she would only see herself. With a crack in the door and the lights turned off, she was ready for bed. Or, rather, she was ready for a nap in the chair facing the door. On the off chance Dani might decide to join her, she would be waiting and ready. For as long as she lived.

#bly manor #thobm #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #damie #damie fanfic #damie fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #damie ao3 #thobm fic #bly manor fic #wlw #lgbtq+#wedding fic #flora wingrave #owen sharma

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miralenmagpie · 3 years

Text

The First Tree

I don't know how I keep getting myself into these emotional games, but The First Tree (@thefirsttree) destroyed me in the most beautiful way possible.

As always, if you're interested in experiencing this game for yourself, I do recommend it, but will be referencing some spoiler content. I normally try to avoid too many spoilers and I won't discuss the ending here, but there is of course some spoiler-y content here. Hit the heart button or double-tap to like (it's free!) and read on otherwise!

"The First Tree is a third-person indie exploration game by David Wehle centered around two parallel stories: a mother fox trying to find her missing family, and a son reconnecting with his estranged father in Alaska." You awake to the fox noticing her cubs missing and the narrator, Joseph, beginning to recall his dream (of the fox) to his significant other. This style of storytelling is consistent throughout the game and, more often than not, the climaxes intersect.

You can tell right away that no punches are going to pulled on your heartstrings right from the get-go as one of the cubs is found dead near their cave. *queue my heart already sinking* Other than them laying there and the mother fox leaning in to mourn their loss, there's no indication of death, so there's immediately a mystery to pursue but nothing too gruesome on screen. The majority of the gameplay will involve you running around as the fox uncovering patches of dirt with pieces of Joseph's past, as well as collecting mysterious balls of light that seemingly have no purpose other than to be collected. Let me tell you right away, they have purpose. You want the shiny balls of light and the reason why will be clear by the end of the game.

Each patch of dirt to be uncovering by the fox is highlighted by a column of light; however, they can be uncovered in any order during each chapter. This can lead to a couple of out-of-sync pieces of information Joseph gives us here and there, but overall nothing dramatically significant to the storyline. It's fascinating to find urban objects riddled throughout an otherwise very natural landscape and the more you uncover, the more you understand Joseph's past. One of my favorites was a school bus tucked away along a cliffside, but there are countless little things to find throughout every chapter.

Overall in regards to gameplay, controls are pretty simple as you primarily run and jump throughout the world, interacting with items and collectibles. Oddly enough, you toggle between either walking or running, vs holding a button down, which I appreciated! I think I've only seen this style of movement in a few games. Scenery-wise, the landscapes are beautiful and I really enjoyed just existing in this game. However, my biggest qualm about The First Tree was the lack of saving. You get an autosave at the beginning of each chapter and that's it, which unfortunately made me feel like I was rushing through a game that was tumultuous for me at times. I would have preferred to take my time on this one, but the lack of saving really guarantees the maximum number of sitdowns you have with the game if you don't want to keep starting chapters over.

One of my favorite aspects of any game is "how high can I climb in this?" The First Tree really delivers here. At times the fox's movements can feel a bit clunky or unpredictable in rocky terrain, but dedication and patience will reward you with some great views from high up! It did feel like there were some areas that you weren't necessarily encouraged to explore, but the developer certainly wasn't going to stop you. I always appreciate a good climb!

The soundtrack to The First Tree by Josh Kramer melds perfectly with David Wehle's world and story. I absolutely love the music behind this game and truly hope the LP gets a second pressing in the future. *fingers crossed* The first major climax of the game features a beautiful swelling ambiance in the background that swept me off my feet (or my couch for that matter).

Unfortunately, the Switch version of the game didn't feature the trophy content for some reason, but that does allow you to simply focus on exploration and story. I don't think The First Tree would have been as impacting and emotional for me if I was more focused on collectibles and achievements; however, without them, I'm less likely to do another playthrough.

With that in mind, The First Tree clocked in at around 2-3 hours for me, but that can vary for you wildly depending on how much exploration you partake in. There are a total of 6 chapters that are absolutely worth your time. Leading up to the ending, details about Joseph's present and past unwind and intertwine with the fox's story effortlessly. If you've ever experienced loss or heartfelt regret, this story is going to resonate with you. The ending of this game took my breath away. I was a mess. I've never encountered something like it before mechanically, and I think that's really the beauty of indie gaming.

If you're into heavy games with meaning, I highly recommend checking out The First Tree. Before downloading, I always check out reviews, trying to avoid spoilers, and I've come across a consistent negativity around stories with heavy emotions. A lot of folx out there have called out the narration in this game, as well as any emotional game I've played. I don't think you can open yourself up and create a game like this without some of the dialogue/etc sounding a bit off, forced, or cheesy to someone. I didnt feel that way in my playthrough at all, but I can see how some folx might. I think this is especially true for anyone that's never shared their traumas/etc through writing, therapy, or other forms of communication. There's a certain level of mutual emotional understanding or empathy you may need to resonate with heavy stories, focus on the experience vs gameplay, no matter what the specific content may be. In this case, I think the experience and gameplay melded together really well.

The First Tree is available to play on Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, mobile, and more! I can't imagine playing this on my phone to be honest though, as then I'd have been a mobile mess, haha.

Have you played The First Tree? Do you plan to now? I'd love to hear from you! Shoot me an ask or a message and we can talk about the game. 😄

Thanks so much for stopping by, and I'll see you next time.

- M. Magpie

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laurasimonsdaughter · 4 years

Text

Never steal from a faerie...

On the whole, faerie heritage was quite easy to hide. Nowadays most people tried to pretend that anyone of that kind had died out anyway. Nobody could deny they had existed once, but that didn’t stop people from saying that they didn’t exist anymore. That was advantageous. It’s much easier to hide in plain sight if the people looking don’t really want to see you.

Jeanne knows that the average customer would rather not believe in fae and they take full advantage of that. Their little café is as popular as it is tiny and most of the regulars have no idea that it’s the magic in the food and drink that keeps them coming back. Not that Jeanne actually makes them come back. They don’t lay spells on people, they pride themself in that. All they use is a little glamour…and a little glamour goes a long way. Some of the customers do actually taste the burst of happiness Jeanne bakes into their pastries, but that doesn’t mean that they can tell the difference between faerie magic and the other glimpses of ancient power that some people are still born with.

Which is good, because when they do believe in it, faerie magic freaks people out. Jeanne doesn’t resent this, but it does make them smile sometimes. Or the way people talk about it does at least. The days of faerie rings are long gone. They have never lived in a grassy mound with a hawthorn growing on its top. They live in a little apartment above their café, like so many people do. And they don’t wish themself back in the old days either. Jeanne likes the city and they love their shop.

Because faeries make deals, that’s what they’re all about, and Jeanne makes a deal with every customer that walks through their door. They offer the shimmer of the silver and gold that they earned and Jeanne gives them the food and drink they crafted with their own hands. That is the deal and Jeanne honours it, for a faerie is never in debt. This way they can make countless deals, countless trades a day. They smile at every customer and everyone smiles back, because far away in their mortal subconscious, they know they ought to. It’s wonderful. Jeanne loves their life among the mortals. Loves to be surrounded by the bustle of the city. And adores to see the same happy faces coming back to their counter week after week.

They have favourites, of course. The three young men that come in with laptops, books and pamphlets every Friday for instance. They are always friendly, always full of conversation, and their backpacks are adorned with pride buttons. Jeanne likes them. Just like they’re always pleased to see the two girls that treat each other to scones most Wednesdays. They are here again today. Jeanne is watching them laugh and talk together. One of them, a tall brunette, is nicknamed Principessa, Jeanne has learned. She always comes in with a lovely plump girl with bubble-gum-pink hair, who they presume is her girlfriend. Or girlfriend-to-be, perhaps. Jeanne is still discretely watching them when the shop bell rings and a small crowd of semi-regulars comes in. Jeanne turns back to the counter, smile at the ready, when they stop breathing for a full second.

Coming in behind the group of chattering women is the prettiest mortal Jeanne has ever seen. For a moment they doubt whether he really is mortal, so graceful are his movements. The young man is tall, clad all in black, and has such a striking combination of fair skin and dark features that it makes Jeanne’s heart ache. He moves with ease and confidence and the faint smirk around his lips looks as if it never leaves him.

“Luce!” Principessa suddenly calls out.

The smirk turns into a grin as the young man joins her table, kissing both her and the pink-haired girl on the cheek in greeting and suddenly Jeanne understands. For the first time in their life they know why their ancestors played their flutes in the dark woods just at the edge of hearing and wove spells in the moonlight. Because of mortals like this.

It takes all their willpower to serve their customers with a tolerable appearance of care and attention, because the young man named Luce has risen from his seat and is joining the queue. They try to keep their eyes on the hot chocolates they’re making, but the tall, dark shape is still at the edge of their vision.

The three women that placed the order are still counting out their money when Luce steps past them and leans on the counter.

“Double espresso, please,” he says.

“Nothing else?” Jeanne asks, their eyes firmly fixed on him now that they finally have an excuse. His eyes are green. So green…

Luce glances over the various piles of freshly baked goods displayed both on the counter and behind the glass and shakes his head. “No thanks.”

Jeanne would be offended, but that grin…

“I’ll get you your coffee then,” they say, turning away. When they turn back, Luce is still leaning against the counter nonchalantly, while the women laughingly hand over a handful of coins.

“We always forget to hit the ATM before we come here.”

Jeanne’s café is the last cash-only place left on the block. Because it’s the shimmer that counts as well as the value and even paper money has a glitter to it.

“It’s really Manou’s fault this time,” one of them says conversationally, but Jeanne isn’t listening.

Luckily they don’t seem to mind. They move to a table by the window, chatting happily all the while.

“Here’s your espresso,” Jeanne says, turning back to Luce.

He takes his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket. It looks expensive. Jeanne doesn’t like leather much, but he wears it well. Very well. “Thanks,” he hums and he flashes them another grin.

Jeanne watches him take the cup and walk back to his friends. They barely manage to swallow a sigh. No spells. They aren’t allowed any spells. Not even a little hint of magic mixed into the coffee to suggest coming back. They promised themself they’d never do that, to anyone…

Soberly they return to stacking the clean cups. Every now and again their eyes inevitably drift in the direction of the table where Luce sits with the two girls. They seem to be having a good time, only Luce is sitting with his back to the counter, so Jeanne can’t really tell. After a while the two girls get up.

“You coming?”

Jeanne lets out a breath. He’s leaving and the thought alone makes them miserable, but at least they’ll get to see his face again as he turns.

To their surprise, however, Luce hesitates and then shakes his head. “You go ahead.”

Jeanne feels a flutter in their stomach. He is staying behind? Alone?

“Okay,” Principessa shrugs. “See you!” And she leaves with her pink-haired companion.

Luce seems to shift in his seat uncomfortably, but then he chooses a new spot in the corner and picks up one of the magazines scattered around the tables. Jeanne considers going up to him to ask if he wants something else to drink, but they decide against it.

Customers come and go, the chatty trio of women leaves, and still Luce remains. Sometimes he gets up and walks through the café as if he’s about to leave…but then he doesn’t. Jeanne is watching him more often than not now, but Luce never looks in their direction.

“Enjoy your muffins!” Jeanne smiles at the old man with the friendly eyes that comes in once a week just to buy some pastries to take home. They’re pretty sure he buys them for his sister.

“We always do,” the man replies happily and he gently closes the door behind him, leaving the café empty for the first time that day.

Well, empty apart from Luce, who is still sitting in the corner. Jeanne makes a decision and speaks up:

“Hey, can I get you anything? I do sandwiches too…”

Luce’s head snaps up from the magazine that he clearly hasn’t actually been reading, because he hasn’t progressed at all. He tensely glances around the now deserted café and then quickly gets to his feet. “No,” he says, his voice oddly strained. “You can’t get me anything. You can do something for me.”

Jeanne raises their eyebrows. They’re not sure they like that tone of voice. Pretty as he may be, he does not get to order them about. “And what might that be?” they say, crossing their arms.

Luce walks up to the counter with long, almost threatening strides. “Let me leave,” he says roughly.

Jeanne blinks in surprise. “Let you–”

“I can’t leave,” Luce snaps. “You did something to me. I can feel it.”

A spark of panic ignites in Jeanne’s chest and they hurriedly feel around for their own magic. They hadn’t– They couldn’t have. Weaving a spell takes effort and concentration, they couldn’t have done it unconsciously.

“You can look sweet all you want, I’ve been to the hidden places in Paris,” Luce growls, leaning towards Jeanne across the counter. “I know magic when I feel it.”

Jeanne lifts their eyes to his and something clicks. When they speak again their voice is sunk, suddenly calm and nearly triumphant. This isn’t their fault.

“Then,” they say deliberately. “You should have known better, than to steal from a faerie.”

...

[This little bit of urban fantasy turned into a whole book! I made it into an ebook that is free to download (link in my bio)!

You want a cute romance between a curious nonbinary faerie and a charming trans boy with knowledge of magic and thieving fingers? This is it~ ]

#fantasy #urban fantasy #fae #faeries #romance #writers on tumblr #laura writes #faerie rules #coffee and faerie cakes #my book!#laura drabbles #magical realism #faerie #nonbinary representation #trans representation #nblm romance

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akaashishotthighs · 4 years

Text

Modern TID - Part 16

Part 15 - Part 17

They ended up going to her apartment anyway to pick up some things she needed. It was a quick visit. She packed her stuff in a suitcase, made sure everything in the flat was up to code, checked to see if any food would go rotten during the week, and off they went back to the Institute.

When they got back, Will had arranged a surprise for her. While they were at her place, he had asked Jem to vacate a couple of Will’s drawers, so that Tessa could pack her things there.

“And, if you want, you can keep some of them here. In case you come to stay over again.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked down to hide the blush that was creeping into his cheeks.

She had pushed his gaze up with her hand on his chin and kissed him softly. “I love it.”

He had smiled then, a toothy smile. “Great! It’s great that you love it.” He put his arms around her. “I want you to feel at home here.”

Home is wherever you are, she wanted to say. Then she shook the thought out of her head. Way too soon, Tessa. You’re going to scare him away.

She didn’t have time to say anything at all, for a loud, incessant and robust knock came at the door. Without being let in, Jessamine stalked into the room, in casual clothing. Or, at least, the most casual Tessa imagined Jessamine was capable of wearing. Her blonde hair was trapped in a loose braid across her shoulder. Her crop sweater was black and showed off a part of her tanned and toned abdomen. She wore a high waisted jean skirt fraying at the bottom. Her feet were in white strappy heels.

Tessa was confused. She knew this was some sort of fashion trend, but she was bewildered. Was she cold on the top, but hot on the bottom? Tessa didn’t understand. This was why she stuck to simple clothing.

“Are you ready or not?” Jessamine’s high pitch voice pulled her out of her fashion assessment.

“Ready for…?” Will asked the question before she could get it out.

Jessamine sighed and rolled her eyes. Tessa silently imagined throwing her in the river. “To go shopping? You promised.” She crossed her arms.

Will nodded. “Right.” He put a hand on the low of Tessa’s back. “Why don’t you go down to the car, while I go get Jem. We’ll be down in no time.”

“You better. I have a large number of stores I want to hit, which means we are on a rigorous schedule. So chop chop!” She clapped her hands and left with a whip of her blonde braid.

Tessa waited until she was out of listening range. “Please don’t leave me alone with her.”

Will chuckled. “Five minutes.” He took her face in his hands and gave her a quick peck. “If I take any longer, I promise I will make it up to you.”

“How?” She tilted her head.

He brushed her hair away from the most exposed part of her neck. He kissed her lips softly and then carried down with a trail of soft kisses all the way to her collarbone. Her head fell back, and her hands gripped his forearms. He bit down just as softly as he had kissed, pulling a gasp out of her. His lips left her collarbone to rest just under her ear. “Just like that.” He pulled away, grinning down at her, his eyes darkened to the colour of sapphires.

She took a deep breath and left the room while trying to calm her beating heart down. She was still thinking of Will’s hands on her body, his lips on her skin, the feeling of all of him against her, and the blue of his eyes as she sat in the back of the car next to Jessamine. The blonde had her eyes glued to her phone, as she typed faster than Tessa considered possible.

She leaned back on the seat and stared out of the window. She could see Cyril at a distance, carrying what seemed like cleaning supplies for the car. But she and Jessamine were on the vehicle. Was he going to wash the car with them inside? She saw as he pulled open the garage door, revealing at least three more cars. Tessa’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t think this was our only car, did you?” Tessa gaze slipped to Jessamine. She had turned her whole body in her direction, and her phone lay face down on the seat between them. How long has she been watching me, Tessa wondered.

“It was pretty naive of me to think so.” She admitted. She couldn’t look away. Jessamine’s light brown eyes were focused intently on her. She seemed to be trying to read Tessa’s thoughts and succeeding.

At last, one corner of her lips lifted in a malicious grin. “I did some research on you.” A chill went through her spine. “Theresa Gray. Daughter of Richard Gray and Elizabeth Gray. Niece of Harriet Moore. Sister of Nathaniel Gray. An alumna of some prestigious private school in New York.” Her manicured hand dropped down, her nails grazing the pastel pink case that covered her phone. “And that’s when the story got interesting. I did some further research. I found some fun little facts.”

There was white noise ringing in Tessa’s ears. Her hands felt shaky and clammy. Jessamine leaned in, and Tessa took a sharp intake of breath. Jessamine lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “I know your secret.” Her stomach dropped.

~/~

“What did she think of the surprise?”

Jem was pulling a sweater vest atop his short-sleeved shirt. Will wrinkled his nose to keep himself from laughing. “Are you ever going to stop dressing like an eighty-year-old trapped in a nineteen-year-old body?”

“You’re just jealous that you can’t pull this off.” He shoved his phone and wallet in his pockets. “Answer the question.”

Will told him the events of the bedroom as they descended the stairs. From Tessa’s reaction to Jessamine interrupting, to their little rendezvous before Tessa left. When he finished, Jem was shaking his head. “Are the two of you capable of going two seconds without feeling each other up?”

Will smirked. “Now who’s jealous?”

Jem rolled his eyes. “I am burning with the rage of the green monster.” Will chuckled. They were out of the house and approaching the car. He could see Tessa and Jessamine talking. “Seriously, Will, how are you doing? Still desperate to profess your undying love for her?”

Will scratched the back of his neck. “It’s harder than I thought.” They reached the car, ending any further conversation on this topic.

It really was hard. Every time Will looked at her, that he heard her voice, that he had even the most momentary thought of her, all Will wanted to do was scream that he loved her at the top of his lungs. She was in his dreams, her smiles as soft as her words, but always too far to reach. No matter how much he walked, how much he stretched his hands, Tessa was still just a bit too distant, her grey eyes always shinning. And he said it, he screamed it, and all she did was grin. She never said it back. During the day, his head rung with her name. It was like a song stuck in his mind. Tess, Tess, Tessa. She couldn’t have been named something awful, could she, like Mildred. He could not imagine himself singing “Mildred” all day in his head.

He sat on the driver seat and looked back at her. She smiled back at him, but it was strained. Had Jessamine said something? What was he thinking, of course she had, it was Jessamine. He was used to Jessamine’s cruel remarks, but Tessa wasn’t. He hoped it wouldn’t hammer around her head for long.

The drive had been quiet, Taylor Swift’s voice through the speakers. Jessamine was too focused on her phone to question why the radio had played not one, not two, not three, but more songs of Miss Americana. Tessa was looking through the window, too distracted to notice. Jem didn’t say anything, but Will did see him throwing him a sly grin as the second song started playing. Jem was the only one that knew that Will had a strong liking to her songs, and he always teased him for it.

They really spoke to his heart. What is a guy to do?

At last, they arrived at the shopping centre, and Will was quick to shut the playlist off. They had barely set foot outside the parking lot, and Jessamine was already commanding them to every shop they set eye on. Will got bored quickly, and Jem was right behind him. By the look on Tessa’s face, this was clearly not a favourite activity of hers either. Through the several shop’s Jessamine had hauled them to, Tessa hadn’t bought a single item. Jessamine, however, had filled both Will’s and Jem’s hands of multi-coloured bags.

They somehow convinced Jessamine that they needed a break to have lunch. She huffed and whined, but gave in. They hadn’t even finished eating, and she was already demanding to continue.

“Can we at least go down to the car to put these in?” Jem pointed at all the bags. “You two can go on without us, and we’ll join you after we’re done.”

Jessamine sighed. “Fine.” She gave them the name of the store and pulled Tessa behind her with such force that she almost ripped the poor girl’s arm off.

Will shook his head. “She’s going to kill me for leaving her alone with Jessamine. For the second time. In one day.”

Jem chuckled. “It was nice knowing you. What was it, seven years? Good while it lasted.”

Will laughed. “I always knew Jessamine would be my demise.”

~/~

After what felt like forever of holding Jessamine’s picks and separating them into two different piles as she had ordered, Tessa was starting to wonder if the other girl would notice if she made a run for it. At last, the blonde turned to her and smiled. “All done.”

Tessa sighed in relief. “Great. I think the queue to the check out is over there.”

“We’re not going to buy all of this.”

“We’re not?”

“Not yet, at least.” She shook her head, her braid whipping from side to side. “We need to try all of this on first.”

Tessa’s jaw almost dropped to the floor. She was going to try all of this on? They were never going to leave this shop. Tessa did a double-take. “Wait. Did you say ‘we’? You picked out clothes for me?”

Jessamine pointed at the pile in her left hand. “That’s my bag of clothes to try on.” She aimed to the one on her right side. “And that’s the bag of clothes for you to try on.”

Tessa’s breath faltered. This store was severely overpriced. She could barely afford socks here, much less the clothes that Jessamine had picked. She looked down at the bag. Tessa saw some of the clothes that Jessamine had chosen that Tessa had thought were really pretty; like a turquoise blouse incredibly soft to the touch, a pair of physique flattering jeans, and the dress that Tessa had fallen in love with the moment her eyes set sight on it. She looked back up at Jessamine. There was nothing wrong with trying on the clothes, right? It’s not like she was committing herself to buy anything.

She followed Jessamine into the dressing rooms at the back. These were considerably bigger than the stores that Tessa was used to. Jessamine insisted on sharing so that they could immediately see what the other looked like in a particular piece.

Every time she had to put aside a piece she loved and that not only fit but looked amazing on her, it hurt. Reading the price tags was like a little needle piercing her heart. It didn’t help that Jessamine’s pile of clothes to buy kept getting bigger and bigger. Tessa ran out of clothes faster than Jessamine, probably because she didn’t fawn over herself for long minutes whenever she tried on anything, unlike the blonde. There was only one item missing — the dress.

Tessa stood admiring it for a while. She couldn’t help herself. She flipped over the price tag. The amount of money necessary for the dress could pay a month’s rent on her small apartment. She shook her head. It was pointless to try it on because she’d only fall more in love with it and she couldn’t handle having to let it go.

She felt Jessamine behind her. “Try it on. It’s gorgeous, and it would look terrific on you. Trust me, I have a gift for this stuff.”

Tessa took a deep breath. It’s just trying it on. It probably won’t look that great on you anyway. She pulled it off its hanger. She was putting it on as Jessamine mumbled something. Tessa ignored her. The fabric felt amazing on her. She had chills all over. She reached back to zip it up and noted there was no zipper. She looked at the back on the mirror. The back closed like an old-timey corset, meaning she needed help to tie it.

She turned to Jessamine’s corner and noted she was all alone in the dressing room. Crap, she thought. Almost immediately, she heard Aunt Harriet’s voice in her head complaining about her choice of words.

Pulling the heavy beige curtain back, she tried to see where Jessamine had gone. “Jessamine?” She whispered. She saw a familiar face near the entrance of the dressing rooms. “Jem!” He looked up, confused and looked around until his eyes locked with her. He tilted his head. She put a hand out and motioned him closer. He came over to her, pausing to smile at one of the uniformed ladies. Tessa rolled her eyes. When he reached her, she couldn’t help herself. “Why are you so polite to everyone?”

He shrugged. “Kindness is free and is never harmful.” He looked around and then back to her. “May I ask why I was summoned?”

She huffed. “Jessamine convinced me to try on a dress, a dress that needs help being tied, and then bolted.” She put on her best grin. “Could you tie it for me?”

He smirked. “Oh, now you want me to be helpful. Funny how the tables turn, uh?”

“Please?” Her lower lip jutted out. He chuckled and nodded.

She pulled back the curtain, and he entered the dressing room. He closed the curtain behind him as she turned her back to him. “It’s like one of those old corsets.”

“Could you pull your hair up? It’s in the way.” She took her hair into her hands and balled it around her fist. She felt his fingers on her back, pulling strings and tying them together. He was a little taller than her and had bent his head to see better. Every time he exhaled, it hit her skin, causing little goosebumps along her arms.

He cleared his throat. “Is that a necklace clasp?” One of her hands flew down to the chain around her neck. “I didn’t notice you were wearing a necklace.”

“I wear it under my clothes.” Her lungs contracted. This was something very personal to her. Yet, somehow, for some reason, she felt alright with sharing this with Jem. She trusted him.

“You wear it often?”

“Everyday.” She pulled its pendant from the dress and turned to him to show it.

“May I?” He put his hand out, and she dropped it, letting him hold it. He inspected it, running his hands along with its details. “A clockwork angel.”

“It was my mother’s. When she died, my brother gave it to me and told me to keep it.” It’s what she would’ve wanted, he had said. “I hardly ever take it off. I wear it under my clothes because its something valuable, and my Aunt always told me it wouldn’t be safe to walk around with it on display.” She inhaled sharply. “But also because… it’s stupid.” She looked down at the floor.

She felt his fingers under her chin, making her look back into his eyes. “Tell me.”

She sighed. “It makes me feel closer to my mother. I never truly knew her. She died when I was five. I have small flashes of memories, but nothing substantial. This necklace is my only connection to my mother. Wearing it as close to my heart as possible makes me feel more connected to her. As if this necklace brings us closer together.” She said it all in one breath, afraid that she’d chicken out. She took a deep breath when she was done, her cheeks heating up quickly.

Jem smiled back at her. “I understand.” He gently dropped the angel. He reached into his shirt and pulled a chain out. Tessa’s eyes widened. At the end was a pendant, a jade pendant, a small Chinese character etched into a small golden circle at the centre. “I understand.” He said again, the words carrying a deeper tone this time.

Her hands itched to reach for it. She didn’t have to say a word. Jem took her hand and placed the pendant in it. She brushed her fingertips all over the surface, the warmth of the stone, giving her a small tingle. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s not the original. My mother’s pendant is currently in a box back at the Institute. My father gave it to her as a wedding gift. She passed it down to me and told me that I should gift it to my future wife. When she died, I couldn’t bring myself to take it out of that damn box. It’s the only thing of hers I have left, but she told me what its purpose was, and I will not oppose that.” His breath came out a little shaky. She reached out with the hand not holding the pendant and gave him a light squeeze in reassurance. He gave her a small nod and carried on. “I showed it to Will when we were fourteen. Told him the whole story. Then, on my birthday, he gifted this pendant to me. An exact replica, save one small difference.” He brushed a finger on the character. “My mother’s pendant has an old Chinese symbol for love engraved. This one is for friendship.”

“He made you a replica so you could wear it without feeling guilty.” She whispered.

He smiled, a small, loving smile. “I know what you’re thinking.” He fake fawned himself. “Oh, Will is such a good friend. How dreamy.” His voice was two tones too high, sounding disturbingly close to Jessamine’s.

She chuckled. “The story does work pretty well in Will’s favour.”

He took a step back, and the pendant slid from her hand. “Let me finish tying.” He made a spinning motion with his finger. She turned her back to him and felt his fingers on her again. She felt more comfortable, his breathing no longer causing goosebumps, but a reassuring chill. “All done.” He whispered at her ear.

She turned to the mirror, her fingertips tracing the flowery design of the red lace. The soft and silky black fabric underneath the lace brushed against her knees. The dress finished around them at the front, but the back went a little longer, grazing mid-calf. The neckline was heart-shaped, with two barely visible black spaghetti straps resting on her shoulders. A big black sash shaping the waist and separating the bust from the skirts. It was classy, and it hugged her figure handsomely. She loved it, even more now that she could see it on her.

Jem cleared his throat from behind her. She felt her cheeks heat up. She had forgotten he was there. She looked up at him through the mirror. His gaze met hers, and his lips broke into a grin. “It looks great on you.”

“I love it.” She admitted.

“Are you going to get it?”

She shook her head, frowning. “It’s way out of my budget.” She shrugged. “Guess you and I will be the only ones to know how incredible it looks on me.”

He chuckled. “That’s a shame. I happen to know a certain Welsh boy that would definitely have a heart attack if he ever saw you in that dress.”

She giggled. “It’s a good thing Will never got to see it then.” She pulled her hair up. “Could you-“ Jem was already taking the strings and untying them.

When he was done, he stepped back and made a small gap on the curtain to leave. Half out, he turned to Tessa. “If it helps to persuade you, it really does look incredible on you. You’re already beautiful, but that dress… That dress makes all the best of you jump out even more. And not because it’s a pretty dress in itself, but because you feel beautiful in it. And that shows.” He shook his head. “I already knew red was my favourite colour, but seeing you in that dress… I can’t tell if it’s the colour that fits you, or if you’re the one making the colour even more beautiful.” With that, he left, closing the curtain behind him.

Tessa let out the breath she was holding. Her hand flew to her angel, and behind it, as sure as the ticking of the clockwork in her pendant, was the fast beating of her heart, more rapid than she’d ever known possible.

~/~

Will’s fingers brushed the display of shirts softly. He had already selected a couple options for Jem and now was just walking around aimlessly to burn time.

His fingers brushed against a different material, bringing him out of the black hole of thoughts that his mind had descended into. A leather jacket. He shrugged. Why not?

He looked for his number and pulled it off its hanger. Throwing it around his shoulders, he looked at himself in the mirror. “Hello there, handsome fella.” He winked at his own reflection. “You look dashingly attractive today.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” He spun around quickly. Jessamine stood nearby, a mocking smile on her lips.

He shrugged. “It’s called uping one’s self-confidence.”

She snorted. “More like inflating one’s ego.”

“Either way, I look fantastic, and I deserve to hear it.” He peeled off the jacket and put it back where it was. Picking up Jem’s clothes, he strode towards her. “Where’s Tess?”

She smirked. “I’m so glad you asked.” With a swift turn of her heels, she was walking away. He went after her. “She’s really starting to fit in with our little group, isn’t she?”

Will grinned. “It’s great.”

“It’s terrific.” She inspected some over-priced blouses. “She and Jem have gotten close really fast, haven’t them?”

Will couldn’t explain the chill that overcame him. He felt like he was blindly stepping into nothing. “Yes, they have. It’s good knowing that my best friend and my girlfriend get along great.”

“I’m sure. Let’s hope Jem and Tessa don’t get along a little too well though.”

Falling. Will had stepped off the cliff, and now he was falling into nothing. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe. But you know how these things go. A fleeting thought, the innocent brush of a hand, a lingering hug, the built-up sexual tension-“

“Jessamine.” He interrupted her, his voice sharply cold. He wouldn’t let his mind wander, wouldn’t let himself imagine it.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line.” It was fake. Her tone, her words, her body language. She was acting, but Will could see through it. “Tessa wouldn’t do that. Why would she? Tessa’s with you. Why would she want him? He’s just a kind, selfless, attractive, single boy. He’s incredibly wise and capable of cracking the occasional joke. He’s able to make friendship with a stranger in the street in less than two minutes. He has a positive impact on every life he touches. He’s a musician, offers free music lessons to children who cannot afford them, and is often described as a literal angel. Not to mention his unwavering loyalty. But really, what is he compared to you? You, with your one friend, because no one else can bear to tolerate your idiotic attitude. You, with the reputation of a playboy and of breaking girls hearts. You, caring about yourself and no one else. You, the one who’s not even enough of a man to face his own family.” She turned her malicious gaze on him. “Why wouldn’t she choose you over him?”

There were tears behind his eyes, threatening to escape. His sight locked on a distant point, he forced himself not to look at Jessamine. He forced himself to ignore her words, but he couldn’t. They rang around in his head, in the voices of those that hurt the most. She wouldn’t. Tessa wouldn’t. Why not? Said a voice, a sound too familiar. Everything Jessamine said is right, and you know it. He’s the better man, the best man. And you? You’re an inconvenience. An obstacle. A shadow. You’re nothing.

Stop! Will wanted to scream. Please, stop. The walls were closing in, and he felt like everyone was watching him. His vision blurred, little black dots dancing around. His right hand shook, and his knees threatened to buckle. His breathing was off, and his heart was too fast in his ears. He took hold of the wall and tried to make the voices stop screaming. Jessamine wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“And to answer your question, Tessa is in the dressing rooms. Jem is with her. When I passed by earlier, he was helping her take off a dress. It must have been a great dress. He said she was beautiful.” Her words drenched him like ice water. “Oh look, there they are.”

Will looked up. They were coming from the dressing rooms, laughing and smiling at each other. The voices got louder. But then his gaze caught Tessa’s. Her face changed, but not in a bad way. The look she gave him made the voices disappear, and Jessamine’s words fade into white noise. He saw her and only her, and the way she looked at him. As soon as she was close enough, he reached for her. He took her into his arms, brushed her hair away from her face, and just stared at her. She tilted her head, her brow scrunched in confusion. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” He whispered. She lifted an eyebrow in question, but all he did was shake his had and bump their noses together. Her smile widened.

Jem cleared his throat, and Will flinched. How could he possibly face his best friend now? The things he thought… Jem would never do those things to him, would never say those things to him, would never even consider it, and Will knew that. He wasn’t worthy of Jem’s loyalty. “Are those for me?” Will nodded and handed him the clothes. Jem looked from him to Jessamine and back to him. He squinted his eyes at him. “You okay?” He mouthed. Will nodded. He could tell he didn’t believe it, but he let it go. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait for me.” Jessamine stalked off behind him, a large pile of clothes in her arms.

Will looked Tessa up and down. “Anything good?” He didn’t see a dress on her. If it genuinely was that perfect on her, she would’ve bought it, right? Jessamine had been lying to get his insecurities acting up, and he had fallen for it. He was an idiot, indeed.

She gave him a sad smile. “No. Guess I have to stick with boring unfashionable clothes.”

He grinned. “You look beautiful, regardless. You feel comfortable in these clothes.” He cupped her cheeks. “That shows. You’re not worried about what people think of your clothes, you’re just being yourself. That is the most beautiful version of you.”

“Myself is the most beautiful version of me?” She chuckled.

He paused. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“No, but it’s the thought that counts.” She tilted her face up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He wanted to melt into the kiss, but she pulled away. He took her hand and didn’t let his harmful thoughts return as she snuggled into his chest, and they rested against the wall, waiting for the other two.

#tessa gray #will herondale #jem carstairs #jessamine lovelace #wessa #jessa #heronstairs #herongraystairs #the infernal devices #the shadowhunters chronicles #tid #tsc

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taylorinthetardis · 3 years

Text

Only Human - Chapter 2

Alright! Here’s the second chapter for Only Human. The gang go clubbing! Will is extra weird! You guys get a glimpse at my basic ass taste in music! Hooray!

The songs I had in mind for this chapter are:

Good as Hell by Lizzo (playing when they walk in) YOUTH by Troye Sivan (playing when they go downstairs) False God by Taylor Swift (plays when Darcy watches Lizzie dance) Only Human by Jonas Brothers (plays when Lizzie tries to get Darcy to dance)

Again I’d like to thank my good friend @madbaddic7ed for her encouragement and for convincing me to cross post this story.

I hope you all like this chapter. Please feel free to leave feedback and if you want to be added to a taglist for when I finally update, please let me know!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109365

Only Human

Summary: The events of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as seen through the eyes of Darcy. Story takes place in modern day London. Lizzy and Jane are American students studying abroad. Their sisters take turns visiting them throughout the story. Bingley and Darcy are recent business partners, but longtime friends. Caroline is as snake-ish as ever. George Wickham is an actual rapist - the rape will not be described in detail.

Pairing: William (Will) Darcy x Elizabeth (Lizzie) Bennet; Charles Bingley x Jane Bennet

Rating: Explicit due to eventual smut

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, some dirty thoughts

Word Count: 3.5K

Chapter 2: Lock 17

The five of us piled into the back of the cab. Charles and Jane took the two seats facing the back of the cab, leaving myself to sit on the bench seat between Lizzie and Caroline. Lizzie stretched her legs out across the back of the cab. The lights of London illuminated the back of the cab and I got a good look at her combat boots. Caroline did as well.

“Do you see her boots? That’s at least six inches of mud!” She wrinkled her nose in disgust like Lizzie had dog shit on her shoes. It definitely isn’t. But I mean yeah, they’re muddy, she basically lives in a park, what’d you expect?

“I am sitting right here. They aren’t that muddy and they aren’t on your feet so, why do you care?” Jesus Christ, I love her. Lizzie shot a look across the cab to her sister. Jane returned it with one that clearly said “Be nice”. Why should she be if Caroline is going to be a cunt?

“Caroline, be nice.” Is that all you have to offer here Charles? Thankfully, the rest of cab ride passed mostly in silence, with Jane and Lizzie occasionally chiming in with remarks about the area. Having been in the city for nearly two months, they had gotten to know the area surrounding Regent’s quite well it seemed. Blessedly, it was a short ride from Charles’ house to Lock 17, traffic not being nearly as unbearable at eight on a Thursday night. I couldn’t get out of the cab fast enough once it stopped. The brisk autumn air was a welcome cure for the nausea brought on by my nervousness from my proximity to Lizzie and the overwhelming stench of Caroline’s perfume. Once everyone had disembarked, we began the short, uphill trek to the bar. Caroline slipped her arm through mine and snuggled into my arm.

“Will, I’m cold.” She whined. Whose fucking fault is that Caroline? I didn’t pick out your stupid outfit. It’s autumn, in London. We’re by water. What the fuck did you expect?

“Guess you should have worn something a little more sensible.” I replied, struggling in vain to extricate myself from her grip. The more I struggled, the tighter her grip got, like Devil’s Snare. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the smirk come back to Lizzie’s face. Well I’m glad I can provide her with some entertainment. There was barely a queue when we got to the door. The step up into the building caught Caroline off guard and I was able to slip out of her grasp. The main floor was not as packed with people as I feared it would be. Everyone is probably downstairs dancing. Pop music was filtering up from the basement area. I didn’t recognize the song but Caroline did because she went immediately down the stairs. Oh, thank fuck for that. The four of us that remained worked our way through the small crowd to the bar. Charles had his wallet out before we even got up to order. I got my usual Old Fashioned, a double though, since I was definitely going to need the sweet relief alcohol provided my anxiety. Lizzie ordered Rum Punch for herself and Jane. Charles got a Screwdriver and four shots of tequila. He knows I hate tequila. He does this every time we go out. Judging by the look on Lizzie’s face, she wasn’t too thrilled with the prospect of needing to throw back that vile shit either. The bartender set the shots down on the counter. Charles passed them out, then raised his glass.

“To new friends!” We clinked our shot glasses and threw them back. I shuddered. Jane and Lizzie looked like they wanted to spit it right back out. Charles took his like a champ, like he always does. We set our glasses back down on the counter and the bartender asked if we wanted another round. Jane, Lizzie, and I politely declined. We grabbed our drinks from the bar and Charles immediately led Jane to a nearby table, leaving myself and Lizzie behind. Lizzie was looking around, taking it all in.

“This place seems like kind of a hole in the wall. How did it catch the attention of two wealthy businessmen? I’d have figured this wasn’t really your scene.” Oh, God is she talking to me? Why is she talking to me? C’mon Will you know how to do this. You talked to girls all the time at uni. Oh, no I took too long, she’s walking over to her sister. Should I follow her? Yeah, idiot, otherwise you’d just be standing at the bar like a numpty. Why am I so bad at this? When I made it to the table, she was asking Charles the same question she just asked me. I took the seat on the left of Charles; Jane was seated on his right. I stared into my drink while Charles told her the story of the last time we had been sat in this bar.

“… so, we left the concert at The Underworld, it’s this rock club not too far from here, but Darce wasn’t ready to go home, so we walked around Camden for a bit until we found this place. We had been to Lockside, the restaurant just a little further down the canal, for a business lunch before, but we hadn’t been over this way at night since we were in uni. I had no clue this place even existed until we saw the queue.” Charles is so good at talking. Why can’t I be more like him? He went back to asking Jane questions about America, while Lizzie and I sat in relative silence, Lizzie chiming in every now and then to back up something Jane had said. I finished my drink and went back to the bar to get another. I was definitely going to need it if I was ever going to make an attempt at conversation with Lizzie. I stayed at the bar to drink my second and my third drinks. I was about to order a fourth, when Charles appeared at my side.

“For God’s sake Darce, what is wrong with you? I know you weren’t exactly thrilled to come out with me tonight but I didn’t think you’d be this broody. I was hoping you and Lizzie might hit it off. You’re quite similar you know. You’d see it if you made the effort to chat with her.” What do you think all this alcohol is for Charles? I’m doing my best, my dude. Ooh, my dude? I think imma tiny bit drunk. “I’m getting us another round and then we’re gonna go downstairs. And when I say we I mean you too. You used to be so fun at uni. I know you still have it in you, I think maybe you just need a little nudge to find it again.” I don’t know Charlie boy; I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy. He clapped me on the back and grabbed his and Jane’s drinks from the bar and went back to the table, leaving me with Lizzie’s drink and my own. Oh, that’s very clever Chuck, leave me with her drink so I have to interact… Suddenly Lizzie appeared at my side, taking up the space Charles had just vacated, swiping her drink from the bar. I must have looked visibly startled because she gave me that look again, the eyebrow and the smirk. She took a large sip of it and strutted away from the counter. My body seemed to move of its own accord, grabbing my drink and moving my legs to follow her. She led the way down the stairs while I brought up the rear. I didn’t know the song that was playing, but Lizzie seemed pretty excited about it. She grabbed Jane by the wrist, pulling her towards the dance floor. Charles trailed after the sisters like a puppy dog. Thankfully, the downstairs also had a bar, so I posted up on a barstool to work on my drink, ordering another one before long. I couldn’t see any familiar faces in the crowded dance floor; no Charles, no Caroline, blessedly, but, unfortunately, no Lizzie. I bet she’s a good dancer. She looks like she’d be a good dancer. I wish I could see the way she moves. I wish I wasn’t so damn awkward. I hope no one tries to dance with her. I don’t want anyone else touching her. Wow, four whole drinks plus one shot in – yeah, I was definitely drunk. How else could you explain me thinking about her like that? Like she already was mine. I nursed my current drink more than I had the previous ones. I decided to get up and walk the perimeter of the dance floor. Several songs went by before I caught a glimpse of her again. She was moving slow, in time with the beat. She was alone, but I could see Charles and Jane a little further in the crowd. None of them had their drinks anymore. They must have dropped them at the bar after I got up. Lizzie clearly knew the song that was playing; she was saying the words along with it. I could read her lips from my vantage point. We might just get away with it, religion’s in your lips, even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship, she threw her head back and ran her hand through her hair, continuing to sway her hips to the beat. The lights hit her and her hair reflected it, causing it to look even redder in light. Probably about the same shade as my face. She can’t look over here. She can’t catch me watching her. God, she’s so beautiful. A few more people moved away from the crowd and I got a full view of Charles and Jane. He was holding her close while they swayed to the beat, his arms around her waist. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled. Lizzie continued to dance. Several men moved around her, but no one tried to dance with her. How strange. She’s easily one of the most beautiful women in here. Can they not see it? Do they not see her? How could they ignore her like that when I can’t take my eyes off of her? Can’t they see how stunning she is? I continued to watch her move, imagining what I would do if I had the confidence to join her. What would it feel like to hold her close, like Charles is holding Jane? Would she let me? What if I couldn’t keep up with her? Would she taunt me? Or, would she help me? Would she guide my hips with hers? I could hide my face in her soft hair, pretend there was no one else here, just feel the curve of her arse as it moved against my cock. Oh okay, that train of thought needs to end. I cleared my throat and looked around, as if to double check that no one had heard that thought. I was so lost in my own fantasy that I hadn’t noticed Lizzie had vanished from my sight again, or that the song had changed. Charles, however, had taken notice of my new position and made his way towards me. Jane was no longer with Charles as he strode over. I looked around the room and caught a glimpse of red and blonde hair standing at the bar. They must have decided to get another drink.

“God, Darcy, I think I’m in love! Jane really is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met!”

“That’s great Charles, I’m very happy for you. Don’t ask me for help picking out the engagement ring though, I don’t know a thing about jewellery.”

“Ha-ha very funny, but I’m serious Darce. I really like her. I’m really hoping that this is gonna be the one that’s lasts. I know its still early days but I just have a good feeling about it. I hope someday you’ll understand; feel how I’m feeling, you know? I think you might really be missing your chance here with Lizzie. I get that interacting with people makes you anxious sometimes, but I really think you should make the effort here. She could be really good for you. Just pull yourself out of your own head for once; have some fun!” Yeah, sure I’ll get out of my head Charles. Do you want me to go ahead and sort out Brexit too while you’re requesting the impossible?

“Charles, just because lightning strikes often for you doesn’t mean it’ll ever strike for me. And I’m okay with that. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Just enjoy your date, have fun. I’m alright on my own.” Good job Will, that should hold him over. Then maybe he’ll take the hint and stop forcing me to interact with Lizzie. I need to do it at my own pace.

“You’re right, Jane is absolutely incredible. But Lizzie’s very beautiful as well, you have to admit that.” No, I absolutely do not Charles. I shan’t and you can’t make me.

“I just hate seeing you looking so gloomy all the time. Lizzie’s fun and she’s very pretty. She’s got great energy. And she’s so smart. I really think if you just—”

“I get it Charles, but I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’ll work with Lizzie. She’s just, I don’t know, she’s too—," Gorgeous, intelligent, absolutely perfect for me in every single way, “I don’t know Charles, she just doesn’t do it for me, you know? She’s just not pretty enough to tempt me. She’s too soft, you know, in the belly.” What. The. Fuck. William. Patrick. Fitzgerald. Darcy. Why did I just say that? I just called her fat. Why did I say that? I didn’t mean that.

“Will, that’s really unkind of you to say. I think maybe you’ve been spending too much time around my sister.” I sure as hell hope not, but fuck if you’re not wrong. He started to walk away from me. I moved to follow until I realized he was walking towards Jane and Lizzie, who were standing about six feet away, each with two drinks in their hands. I recognized the one in Lizzie’s left hand as an Old Fashioned. My Old Fashioned. She bought me a fresh drink and I more or less insulted her to her face. There’s no way she didn’t hear me. This is why I hate clubs, they’re too loud. I have to yell to carry on a conversation. God, if you’re up there, I wish the ground to open up and deposit me straight into Hell where I belong, please and thank you. I walked towards them slowly. Lizzie stuck her left hand out for me to take my drink from her.

“I got you a fresh one. Seemed like you’d been working on that one for a long time. The ice’s all melted.” I downed the rest of the glass I had previously been working on. She was right, it was watery. She must have been keeping as close an eye on me as I had been on her. Strange.

“Thank you.” I took the new drink from her. She turned and walked away, heading back towards the bar area where it appeared Charles and Jane had gone to sit down. I followed, taking long draughts from the glass Lizzie had handed me. It was nearly empty by the time I reached them. I set my empty glass down on the bar, knowing all too well that my current drink would be joining it soon. But for the time being at least, I had something to occupy my mouth. Maybe that’ll keep me from saying something else stupid or insensitive.

“What have you been up to all night Will? Have you been out dancing? I feel like we’ve barely seen you all night.” Jane asked when I caught up to them.

“Darcy’s not a huge fan of nightclubs. He doesn’t like pop music. Or dancing. At least, not anymore. He only goes to them if I drag him, kicking and screaming. He didn’t always used to be such a wallflower, if you can believe it. He could really tear up the dance floor when we were at uni, right Darce?” He laughed. Drunk Charles really doesn’t know how to keep things to himself.

“I can’t even picture that. This guy doing the cupid shuffle at a college party? No way!” Have I really made such a terrible impression on her? I mean yeah, I guess I have. Lizzie laughed along with Charles. I deserved that. I deserved that. I deserved that.

“He sure could! But not anymore. He’s a serious businessman now and he only does serious businessman things. Like make spreadsheets and flow charts.” Alright the jokes can stop now Charles. He knows damn well why I don’t feel comfortable letting loose anymore. He knows what happened last time. The bartender called Last Call and the DJ put on the last song of the night.

“Oh, excellent! Last song of the night and it’s Jonas Brothers. Well I’m going back out for one last dance. Whadiya say Will? You wanna come with, show us all those dance moves Charles says you’re hiding?” She leant over, getting much closer to me than I was prepared for, eyebrow cocked again. “Or am I not pretty enough to tempt you?” She whispered it right into my ear. I shivered. She didn’t give me time to respond – she already knew the answer. She smirked at me and walked back to the dance floor. Follow her! C’mon legs, move! Charles and Jane went out after her, leaving me alone again. I downed the rest of my drink and settled up the tab Charles had started upstairs. I scheduled the cab to pick us up in five minutes and realized we’d have to track down Caroline. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes. When I took my hands away, Caroline had appeared at my side. Well, speak of the Devil and she shall appear. God, when I said I wanted to go to Hell, this isn’t quite what I had in mind. She leant against the bar, looking out at the dance floor, at her brother and Jane as they danced with Lizzie.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, Will.” Excuse me? What is this ‘we’ business? “Charles falls in love too easily. Jane seems sweet enough, but I don’t know about that sister of hers. I wouldn’t put it past her to involve her sister in some scheme. Try to get Charles to part with some of our money. Americans, they’re all so greedy.” That’s rich coming from you Caroline, seeing as you’ve been after my money since you were eleven fucking years old. However, I had to admit that she wasn’t completely wrong. Charles does fall in love too easily. It’s honestly been a miracle that I haven’t had to force a gold digger out of his life yet. I don’t get those kinds of vibes from either Bennet sister, but I’ve been wrong about people before, horribly wrong, and it cost me dearly. I decided I ought to keep an eye on them, for Charles’ sake, just in case. He’d been in so many relationships in the seven years I’d known him. Maybe Jane will be different, but maybe she won’t. The song ended and the lights came up. Jane, Lizzie, and Charles made their way back to where myself and Caroline were waiting at the bar. We followed the crowd up the stairs and out of the club. The cab arrived a couple minutes later and we got in the same way we had earlier. The nausea returned, but now I wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety, Caroline and her perfume, or the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed. A combination of all three, I expect. The cab took Charles and the girls back to Hanover Terrace first. I didn’t get out. Charles clapped me on the side of my arm as he got out, knowing I knew what he meant by it: we’ll talk tomorrow. As we pulled away, I looked out the rear windscreen. Charles kissed Jane goodnight and hugged Lizzie before following his sister into the house. The Bennet sisters walked arm in arm back towards the park. I felt a pang of jealousy towards my best friend, at the ease with which he interacted with Lizzie while I couldn’t even open my mouth without insulting her. It took about fifteen minutes to get me home to Belgravia. I kicked my trainers off by the door and stumbled up the stairs, reliving every horrible moment of the night in my head with each stair I climbed. I got myself a glass of water and two paracetamol and set them on my bedside table. I collapsed on my bed and reached out to pull the wastebasket closer, just in case. I closed my eyes, but in the darkness, I saw her face. I covered my head with my pillow, but in the silence, I heard her whisper. I slept fitfully.

#Taylor writes #Pride and Prejudice #fanfiction #Modern AU #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth Bennet #Charles Bingley #Jane Bennet

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northernwinedregs · 4 years

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Truth Or Dare

Date night. You grab a bite to eat together and head to one of your favourite bars, some subterranean dive with red brick walls and comfy leather booths. The kind of place that even in the early evening pulses music so you can barely talk and be heard; they want you to talk less, drink more, parting with your money and inhibitions. Before long the homemade halloumi fries and mozzarella dippers start looking good, and your bank account's a tenner lighter and your stomach's greasier.

You both like this place because it's pretty and unpopulated at this time. There's no queueing at the bar, you have your choice of booths. Later, when the door is guarded and the place fills up, the heat and noise coats everything, like a film of sweat on the walls. When low conversation turns to raucous shouts, when the speakers gargle bass like a heart palpitation, when every minute is a summer Friday night. But for now, it's a place for people who want to take photos of their food, who want to chat idly over a few games of pool, who want that rarest of things – a discreet corner table. The bar staff have the relaxed luxury to make cocktails well now.

You get the door and head in, down the industrial staircase. A thought occurs to you.

“Truth or dare?” you ask her.

She looks at you for a minute, weighing up not the question but the possibilities it entails. It's a game, a menu for the evening. Previous dates have taught you her competitive streak: the way she thrashed you at bowling, the ungracious card game victories, the pub carpet lap of honour after hitting a bullseye. She had to be – and was, inevitably – the best even at throwing cashew nuts up and catching them in the mouth. An arched eyebrow tells you enough, that she's playing to win.

“Dare,” she says.

“When we order at the bar, I dare you to put on a fake accent.”

“Pfft, easy.”

So you reach the bottom of the staircase, cross the deserted expanse of hard wood floor, the sound of heels muted by a throbbing bass line from the speaker, and approach the bar.

“Well howdy,” she says to the barman, in a thick and entirely unconvincing Southern drawl, not quite sure of its origins. In two words she manages to straddle the border between Texas and Louisiana, settling down in neither state. “Gee, this place sure looks swell,” she adds, re-locating decidedly northward, and spinning back in time to a sterilised trans-Atlantic voice.

The barman blinks in surprise and decides not to question it. You can't help but smile, at her willingness and gumption, if not accuracy. Not that you could do any better; your own voice is a soft mud of glottal stops and incapable of anything else. “What can I get you?” he asks.

“I'll have a Guinness,” she says brightly, accent taking a trip back across the ocean to Dublin. And then, glancing over the cocktail specials chalked on the board behind the bar, she says, “I dare you to try that.” Her well-travelled accent, having moved from the north-east to the south goes west to California, and she's pointing at a cocktail called the Barroom Blitz.

A dare's a dare, so you order the Barroom Blitz, and double down on the decision even after the barman questions the time and its strength. “Okay,” he says like a warning. “I'd stick to one of them though.”

He busies himself with the cocktail. She gets her Guiness and sips it, while you chat and her pseudo-American accent travels from state to state, never quite finding a home. “Well, shucks,” she says at one point and cocks her head to the side when you laugh. She's taking the game seriously, even if her accent is an unconvincing nomad.

Your drink is ready and only when it's presented on the bar that she laughs. An oversized martini glass holds a sloshing neon green, with a fluorescent umbrella and a bright straw. Like nothing occuring in nature. A sci-fi sort of drink, the kind of thing that'd get dispensed from a machine called an Inenbriator3000. The insides of a cartoon alien. You thank the barman for this luminescent monstrosity, pay, and find a corner booth at the back of the bar away from prying eyes and the intrusive music.

She takes off her leather jacket and sits in the corner so as to watch the rest of the bar. You take off yours and sit across from her, with only her and the corner to look at. Not that you'd want to look at anything else: without even a sip of the bright green Blitz you are already intoxicated, the shadows welling around her, the brightness of her lips in the darkness, the white of her eyes in the semi-gloom.

“Go on, try it,” she says with a smile, accent now moved back home for good. You do, and it's strong and unbearably sweet, like a romantic bodybuilder or a sledgehammer made of gummy bears. Like a lime on steroids with the attitude to match. Like a psychedelic apple from a liberal-minded orchard. You ask if she wants to try it – not a dare, just want to share – and she does, leaving a lipstick impression on the rim, and in one pulpitating moment you are so jealous of the glass.

“How's the Guinness?” She takes another sip, as if needing a reminder and shrugs.

“Good. Tastes like Guinness.”

“That's all right then.”

She leans forward on the table, arms crossed under her. Expectant, keen, anticipatory.

“Your turn then.” And, at a quizzical look, “truth or dare, your turn to ask.”

“Oh right.”

And so it begins in earnest, back and forth. The punishment if you refuse to answer, or fail in the dare is you have to finish your drink in one: a task for her, to chug a pint of what is essentially ale soup, heavy on the stomach; a task for you to glug something so sickly sweet as a viscous pick n'mix.

Truth: most embarrassing moment, the time she passed out at a party and woke to a hundred photos online of her inebriated corpse grafittied with pen. Truth: your biggest regret, the way you crashed out of university with very little to show for yourself. Dare: she slinks across the bar and asks a distantly neighbouring table if she can try one of their fries (she can, and they're pretty good). Dare: another round, another Ballroom Blitz, and this time she joins you. Dare: she goes to the bar and asks if they can change the music to classical (they could, but won't, and don't). Truth: the worst fight you've been in, when you got glassed in the face and ended up breaking a rib in the ensuing scrum. Truth: favourite childhood toy, her plush rabbit named Sludge which she once left on a school trip and cried so much they drove back an hour to retrieve it. Dare: you buy a neighbouring table a drink and wave coyly when they look over, puzzled. Truth: a pet-name she's gone by, and she is mortified to admit that during an adolescent emo phase she went by Kitten. Dare: a third round, a shot each of what the bar calls a Skullcrusher. You knock them back in unison and feel your brain compress like a grape protesting a steamroller convention.

The drinks start to float through your bloodstream, making your thoughts stretch and elongate like hot rubber, your limbs elastic, and her face is flush red with tipsiness. And so too are you drunk on the sight of her bright face, the pixelating mouth. Your mind wanders to the warmth of her lips, her smoky eyes, the dark sea of her hair.

“Okay,” you say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you got any party tricks?”

“Yes. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to show me your party trick.”

She looks around conspiratorially. Something about the way she glances, not nervously, but instead just to see you aren't being watched – and you're not, from the sheltered nook in the corner – makes the room dispappear, as though the periphery dissolves and closes in around you. There is no bar, no song playing. Only her, in front of you, with a tipsy mischief written on her face.

So she slides her arms under her t-shirt and starts to rummage beneath her clothes. You watch, suddenly breathless, and catch a tantalising glimpse of delicious collarbone; just as suddenly, all you want in this life is to sink your teeth into that collarbone. As you watch, you are being watched, a private moment between the two of you, eyes locked. This moment, perfomed for you, only pushes all awareness further away from your mind; the rest of the bar shrinks away to a dull haze of dim sound, a mere pulse in the bacgkround. And, with one final movement, she pulls her bra from underneath her t-shirt like a magic trick and throws it onto the table between you, as disdainfully as she would a used napkin.

She looks at you throughout this party trick, and it is her straightforward desire that moves you so much: that there exists a moment when someone is looking at you and that is all they are doing; they are looking in order to look at you; it is a smile for your benefit alone; an eyebrow arches suggestively purely for your reaction. You feel transfixed, bolted to the booth's leather by her gaze intended only for you, and all you can do is stare back, your heart racing, your skin prickling with excitement at the sharp turn in the game's narrative.

“Truth or dare,” she says and her voice is suddenly so much softer, and forms a sound for you alone.

You reach out, suddenly aware of your body again, its pumping blood, its moveable limbs, and pick up her discarded clothing to tuck it inside your jacket.

“Hey-” she begins, “-I'll be needing that-” but you shake your head and say, “no, you won't. Truth or dare?”

“It's my turn,” she says assertively, but you no longer care for protocol. It's not that she's so exposed right now – her t-shirt covers everything but her arms, and she has her jacket on the back of her chair – but it's the knowledge that someone is just a little more vulnerable. You don't want the bar to fade away in her consciousness, you realise, and instead you want her exposed, knowing that she's surrounded by people and voices and eyes and sounds.

“Nope, it's my turn again,” you decide. “Truth or dare?”

She eyes you suspiciously, not with any malice, but a calculating trust. She may have assumed her last dare was to assert a level of power over the competition, but you're now determined not to let her dictate the flow of the evening.

“Where are you going with this? Okay, dare.”

You lean forward and smile.

“I dare you to do the same party trick again.”

Her eyebrow arches again, this time in confusion, not pre-meditation.

“But, you've already got...” she says, before trailing off. “Oh, okay. I see how it is.”

She glances around a second time, now with a more pronounced concern. Deciding no eyes are upon you, she wriggles in the booth, keeping her eyes locked on you, a dare of her own. You stare back, not wanting to submit dominance. She smiles sweetly, as though she was simply rummaging for her phone, before guiding her hands under her skirt and sliding off her underwear. Unlike the previous time, when she carelessly threw the trophy on the table with the smug contempt of a victory, instead she reaches under the table and covertly passes you a fistful of scrunched fabric. She sits back, smooths her skirt and looks at you intently. You, almost lazily, add the latest item to the inside of your jacket pocket. Her arched, suggestive eyebrow raises once more.

“Happy?” she asks. “What's next?”

“A truth, I think.”

“So I don't even get to pick now?”

“No. Truth: does it turn you on, feeling so exposed now? What if someone – let's say the guy at the bar – was watching? How would you feel, him knowing how you were dressed? What's it like being someone who takes off their clothes in public? Go on, spread your legs under the table and tell me how it feels.” You say this in a low murmur, refusing to break eye contact. You're leaning in closer, so to her there is just your face and the sound of your voice.

She finally looks away, glances around the room once more. Certainly carefully. Almost nervously. She licks her lips and you watch her tongue like a predator.

“You tell me a truth first,” she says. “Does it turn you on, exposing me like this? Do you like the idea of me getting undressed in public? For you. Because of you. Do you want me to tell you how wet I am? Go on, say it. Tell me you want to hear how wet my pussy is, sat here all exposed, waiting for your next command.” Even this, she says as a dare. Like you're being goaded into relinquishing what small power you have over her. Like a predator is feigning weakness before its prey. She's introduced a new register to the vocabulary, as a test of her own.

“That's not how it works,” you tell her. “If you won't answer my truth, you can have a dare instead. I dare you to touch yourself. Touch yourself for me.”

She hesitates, if only for a fraction of a second, and that's all the weakness in her armour you need.

“What, going to lose this game so easily, are we? You won't answer the truth, you won't do the dare I set. Sounds like you're giving up and that means I win. Oh well.”

She bites her lip, not seductively as before, but in hesitation. In anticipation. She glances around, nervously now. You can see the calculation, her stubbornness that you adore so much.

“You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with,” you reminder her, but she shakes her head.

“It's not that. Fuck.”

She's flustered, and it's the first time you've ever seen her like this. Everything before now has been cool, calm, collected. Effortlessly so. Commanding, almost. It's the loosening of control as much as not winning. She who is so triumphant in every victory, she who gloats so completely when she gets two strikes in a row, or gets the question right on the television quizzes first, or is quicker to hand over her card when the waiter's produced the bill. Seeing this dissolution of her hierachy makes you adore her more, wanting to soften and immediately capitulate and kiss her. But you keep your resolve, let her squirm, and relish in it.

She offers the bar once final glance, then locks eyes with you. She touches herself. That first soft moan is so delicate, so almost inaudible, and yet is the only sound you can hear. The only sound you've ever wanted to hear. For such a tiny, quivering exhale, it extinguishes all noise from the bar and once again your focus dissolves to her in front of you. There are only her eyes, burrowing into your soul. There is only her voice, faint and breathless. There is only her skin, her face, her neck. And as she exhales, so too do you find yourself breathless, your head swimming as you watch her. The universe, in that moment, exists only to watch her, watching you. Everything else is background radiation, distant starlight.

“Hi, can I get you any more drinks?”

The voice is a sudden intrusion, and snaps you both out of this private moment. Your booth is shadowed by a friendly staff member, busying herself amongst the tables. She smiles, and it feels as though all the blood in your body has rushed to your face.

“Erm, we're good, I think,” you say, and your voice is a stranger's voice, weirdly booming and distant, like you are not wholly present but instead are some audio recording coming out of the speaker.

“No worries,” the barmaid says cheerfully, moving away from the table as swiftly as she had materialised beside you. You look across the table and see a face, whether from the drinks or the embarrassment, is glowing red as a beacon. You both begin to laugh, nervous and giddy, somehow like children almost discovered for having stolen sweets.

“One last dare,” she laughs. “I dare you to take me home.”

And you do, and the game continues. If not posed in point-for-point questions, the game certainly continues its list of demands and admissions. Breathlessly and deliriously, you trade truths and dares. I dare you to kiss this. Bite that. Suck on that. Nibble and gorge and eat and caress and stroke and enter. Dares as mere verbs; dares only as intentions. And truths are spilled out in the hallway, on the bedroom floor, on the bed itself, on your knees, against the wall. Truth as aching, shuddering, declarations. Truths as names and cries and moans and shivers and animal noises. Truths as adverbs: harder and faster and deeper. Truths as confessions, as close as we get to religion. Truths as invocations. Truths as pain and pleasure and teasing and torture. Truth in blood. Truth in flesh. Truth in sweat and hair and breath and hands and names.

It is only in the morning, when the game is neither lost nor won, but forgotten, when you lie there together in the warm, optimistic yolk of the window-strained sun, when you listen to the flightless birds and hum of reluctant traffic and shouts and cries of an innocent morning, that she raises her head from your chest and smiles to offer her latest demand.

“I dare you to go get breakfast.”

#short story #writing #creative writing #spilledink #twc

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