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#he just might be trapped there for a bit til she finally gets up
buckyalpine · 5 months
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Sigh. I wanted this to be wholesome but it’s horny instead I’m sorry. Might delete tbh. Imagine devilishly gorgeous mob Bucky getting joy out of making his shy date flustered til she’s tripping on her words and unable to speak. He got Steve to find him a date for an event in the evening, uninterested in having to actually find one for himself. He just wants a pretty thing on his arm that he could maybe fuck at the end of the night. Between busy schedules and mob work, Steve doesn’t find anyone so he scrambles to the last person he can think of.
His sisters best friend.
You’re not at all what he was expecting.
He walks down the long staircase in his all black suit, beard trimmed, his cologne intoxicating, coking an eyebrow when he sees the shy thing waiting for him that he’s supposed to go with.
You nearly squeak when he stands before you, too nervous to say anything, your heart running a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who the very James Barnes was. You had no business being here, you were doing this for Steve.
“Hi” you whisper, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the way you keep tugging at your dress, not meeting his eyes, tipping your chin up to meet his wolfish expression.
“You must be Y/n” he doesn’t let go of your face, noting the goosebumps that now cover your exposed skin from your plunging dress. He doesn’t say much else, letting you squirm, quite enjoying himself.
You want to tell him he looks good, be the confident woman he probably expected to have, exuding grace and poise but you bite your lip instead, nearly whining when he lets go of your chin.
“Y-you um. You look b-beautiful” you finally stutter out, your face burning under his amused gaze.
“Is that so Bambi?” He smirks, cocking his head while you fidget with your fingers. “Hmmm. No one’s called me that before” he chuckles, taking your arm in his and leading you to the limo parked outside.
Your skin is so soft, you smell so sweet and for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to ravage his date to bits. Not when you’re such a soft precious thing.
The night goes well as you grow more and more comfortable with him. He dotes on you the entire time, not letting you lift a finger. He can’t help but take care of you, not letting anyone else near his precious little Bambi.
By the end, he wants to take you home safely like a gentleman but he wants more. And he knows you do too. He can see it in the way you look at him with such longing, nuzzling into his side further and further in the back of the limo.
You’re practically on his lap now, desperately wishing he’d just have his way with you without toy having to say anything but he’d never let that happen.
“What is it Bambi” he whisperers when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding you face in his neck. Your hand trails from his tie to his belt buckle, too embarrassed to go any lower.
“Oh you poor thing” he coos, bringing and pressing your hand on top of his erection, your shaky hands rubbing his bulge like a needy kitten, “do you want my cock baby, s’that it? My Bambi needs her cock?”
“Mhm” you whine, clinging onto him when the limo pulls up to his house, his thick arms wrapping you up and taking you right to his room with no second guesses.
When he gets you into bed, all his animalistic tendencies go out the window, holding back how badly he wants to pounce on you and ravish you like the cute little bunny you are, trapped in the wolfs den. Your gown has been thrown off, lingerie ripped to bits, laying on his bed as he crawls on top of you, his thick, leaky cock bobbing between his legs.
“Are you sure you want this Angel” he checks in with you first, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb across your pouty lip.
“W-want you” you whisper, shakily reaching down to grasp his cock, swallowing nervously. “I just- I don’t-“
“You don’t have to be scared bunny” he kisses your cheek, placing his hand on top of yours, guiding your strokes. “I’ll teach you how to play with my cock baby”
You tighten your grip, tugging him to where you need him most and he can’t hold back much longer, he’s trying to hard but you makes it impossible.
“Fuck Bambi” he groaned feeling his tip run against your soaked cunt, holding back frok shoving himself in you “keep doing that and I’ll lose control baby”
“Lose control Bucky” you tug at him again and he shakes his head with a strained chuckle.
“I’ll hurt you bunny” he said warns again but you need him to take you apart till you cant walk.
“Please?”
“Bunny…” he warns one last time but you want anymore.
“Daddy” you whine in his ear and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t give you any warning, slamming his cock into you with one stroke, your pleasured cry music to his ears.
“What did you just call me?!” He pulls out to flip you over, spanking your ass while his balls slap your clit, loving the way you go dumb over his cock.
“Such an innocent little baby with a filthy mouth, huh doll, my bunny wants her daddy’s cock”
He grips onto the headboard, delivering powerful snaps with his hips, alternating between pounding you against the pillows and grinding his cock in you without pulling out.
“Such a tight pussy squeezing daddy’s cock, my naughty little bunny, you want daddy’s cream too baby? You want daddy to give you his fresh cum, hm? Breed this needy little pussy?”
“B-breed me daddy!!” You squeal, his words driving you towards your climax, crying into his sheets and arching your back more as his movements grow sloppy.
“Get ready for daddy’s cum baby- gonna breed this pretty pussy till your fuckin’ round n’swollen n’leaking with milk” he gritted out, grabbing your hips with slam back and meet his thrusts. “Together Bambi, cum with daddy, c’mon, be a good girl n’cum with daddy”
The most salacious and primal sounds fill the room as he pumps ropes of his cum into toy, your greedy pussy milking him for all he’s worth. He can’t believe such a quiet little bunny could turn out to be a minx on the inside but he’s never letting you go.
“You’re dangerous Bambi” he whispers, keeping his softening cock in you, having never felt so satisfied afterwards, practically floating in the clouds with you. “M’never pulling my cock out, you feel too good around my dick baby”
You giggle as he kisses your glistening skin, gathering your into his arms, your eyes growing wide when he doesn’t kick you out of his bed.
“You’re mine now Bambi” he says with a soft growl, holding you closer to his chest before pulling the sheets over you both.
Anyway. Wholesome version coming later.
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oceansssblue · 2 months
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["CLAIM THE PRICE"]—Part 2.
ARCANE
SILCO/OFC 💖
RAY IS BEING FOLLOWED. SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO HER NEW STALKER IS; BUT SHE'S ALL IN TO FINDING IT OUT.
WARNINGS: BRIEF MENTION OF BLOOD, CHOKING, CHARACTER BOUND WITH ROPE, STALKING. SENSUAL&SUGESTIVE (NO SMUT).
Ray's little Jinx and Silco situation has never been really forgotten. Two weeks later, it still lingers in her mind; the strange inocence and violence mixed in the young girl and the thrill of being in her dad's presence. She thinks of him more than she thinks of her; and it's not just because she's cautious and wants to preserve her life. The whole interaction with him has been played over in her mind more than once; the quiet way he commands a room, how his eyes constantly analyses everything around him, the power in just a flicker of his hand. When her own hand makes her guilty way under her clothes, it's not just that. More details are conjured in her memories; like how can a relatively skinny man look that attractive, or how the fuck does he look that good in dark red. His long fingers and how the pale skin of his neck looks so bite-able; the contrast between the cristal blue and fiery orange-red of his eyes. Yeah, it might be pathetic; but in Ray's defence, she hasn't had a man in what feels like ages now, and there's nothing really wrong in indulging in a bit of self-pleasure. It might even help her to finally relax.
It doesn't. At least, no more than the few minutes of the afterglow. She can't feel safe, or calm, when there's someone following her every step anywhere she decides to go. She had first noticed him three days ago, though she's not sure if that's when he started tracking her steps. He's quiet. Sneaky, almost like a ghost that melts into the greenish fog of the Underground; never to be seen for more than a glimpse and never enough to be recognised. She has no idea who he is. She's scared, though, and rightfully so; that's not a good sign anywhere in the world, and certainly not in Zaun.
She refuses to be just another girl found in a ditch somewhere; a carcass of a body no one cares enough to pick up and give it some kind of respect in its death. Ray sharpens her five delicate blades that night; pensive in the silence of her four-wall home, preparing herself for what's about to come.
The next day, she makes her way back home from her job –she's a mechanic, always able to fix whatever object is thrown into her hands– feeling ready and almost eager. She wants to fix this problem once and for all; she's tired of sleeping with one eye opened, always alert in case she's attacked in the middle of the night and needs to defend herself. She can't take this quiet threat anymore; she's going to face it. She's going to get the answers needed.
Ray makes her sharp turn at her usual corner and inmediately presses her back against the cold wall. Her right hand grips the old heavy wrench she has taken from her workplace and she holds her breath, waiting. His shadow quickly follows and makes it's way in the alleyway. Ray doesn't waste a second in bringing her improvised weapon down into the back of his head. The man drops to the floor, pained confused sound escaping through his mouth; and blinks around, desorientated from the blow, but not fully unconscious. Ray will probably never have that much brute strength; but it's not really needed. The young woman climbs on top of him, her hands closing tightly on his neck. Even in his state, he resists; but it's not enough to throw her off of him. Ray waits til he passes out and sighs, relieved and exhausted.
The rest of the way back home, even if they're pretty close as it is, is nothing short of torture. The man's heavy, whoever he is; and Ray takes what feels like ages to drag him on until he's seated in the only chair of her house. She ties him up quickly, first inmovilizising his own body before moving the ropes to the chair; and only when he's apropiatedly trapped and all his weapons have been removed from belts and pockets, does Ray feel like she can breathe calmly again.
The stranger takes a little less than half an hour to wake; Ray taking the time to analyse him. She has never seen him before, she thinks; dark greasy hair with strong wide shoulders and a proper beard hiding his face. There's nothing in him that points her into who he might work for; if he even works for someone and he's not some sort of creepy stalker on his own. It wouldn't be her first; she's a young woman living on her own in the Underground.
When he comes back to life, Ray interrogates him. But the man doesn't reveal a thing, showing her a crooked smirk and almost laughing at her.
"I know how my job goes, pretty girl. No one likes big mouths 'round here."
It makes her blood boil. She needs her fucking answers. He's in her home. He's been following her for days, now. She should have killd him –she still could–; and the guy prefers to play saint. Her anger duplicates.
The sickening sound of his nose breaking preceeds Ray's own groan of pain. Breaking someone's nose is not that difficult; but no one talks about how your own hand feels like after. She mutters under her breath while she craddles her redenned knuckles; soothing them in small carefull circles while she glares at the stranger. He has blood dripping down to his mouth, now; and yet he grins.
Ray is about to give him another punch –maybe switch to her wrencher and try twisting and breaking some other bones after that– when there's a knock at the door.
She freezes, momentarily. Adrenaline rushes back into her veins, posibilities running through her mind at who they could be. Ray's best theory is that this man is one of Gray's. A goon sent out to find out things about her before pushing her to her death; in revenge for her intervention with Silco's girl against his men. Gray must have wanted to know if there was more to her ties to Zaun's Eye; maybe expecting to use her against him in a future if that were the case. But no, she's nothing to the intriguing man; and she's alone against whatever the new intruder is.
She ignores the stranger's chuckles and takes a pair of blades out of her belt. She quietly tip-toes to the door; suddenly ripping it open with the left hand while her right already retracts over her head in preparation for a precise lethal throw.
Her hand stops right in time and her mouth drops opened in surprise and confussion at the people standing outside of her home.
"I believe you have one of my men with you, Ray".
She ignores how good and tempting her name sounds in his scarred lips and focuses on the fact that the stranger –the goon, her stalker– is one of Silco's men. That Silco had sent him after her. That... Doesn't make sense.
"He's one of yours?" She can't help but ask, then frown in growing irritation. "I told you why I followed Jinx to The Last Drop. That I didn't want drama or people following me around. And you just fucking make that happen?"
She's not as carefull with her tongue as she should be. She's tired, and she's been stressed for over a week. Her mood is not the best to have a chat with the king of the Underground. Someone she should fear. At least more than she does right now.
Silco doesn't seem overly bothered. He glances inside the room, processes the bloodied state of his goon, and answers in an unpreocupied tone.
"Sevika will take him now".
It's an order, and now that Ray knows he's one of Silco's and the man himself is actually there, she doesn't offer a solid oposition for the guy she captured to go. She huffs in irritation and walks towards him, untying him hastily and making him a hand gesture that clearly indicates a universal "get the fuck out of my house". The goon doesn't say a thing; just joining Sevika and her plus one bodyguard on the outside of her one-room apartment with his still annoying bloodied grin.
Silco doesn't watch him leave. His mis-matched eyes stay glued to Ray's figure; a million thoughts running through his head. He's surprised he managed to notice Jared's presence and even capture him. The man's strong, yes; but he's also surprisingly agile and sneaky, which is way Silco often delegates him to spying duty. Nevertheless, this girl managed to tie him to her chair and had the balls –by Jared's slightly crooked nose and the blood that dripped from it– to interrogate him. He likes that; when zaunites are brave in spite of the circumstances, when they don't let themselves to be colateral damage. When they fight for what they want instead of staying put; quiet. If only all of them had the same spirit...
"I'd like you to return to The Last Drop without me" he says, eyes not leaving hers.
He can hear Sevika's frown and see her crossing her arms in disagreement without actually having to turn towards her.
"I don't think leaving you alone with this one is a good idea. Should I remember you it was me who went back to Grey's men and saw the wounds on their bodies? She's got good aim".
Silco is amused by the small proud smirk in Ray's face; her chin tilting slightly up in reaction to his personal bodyguard's words. He stays inexpresive, though. They have important things to iron out.
"It was not a request" is all he adds, without looking at her, and Sevika has no other choice than to agree with a reluctant huff.
She walks away and the two men left follow her. Their steps grow quieter as they dissapear into the cold streets of Zaun. Ray is left alone with Silco again; and she faces him with an arched eyebrow and an expectant irritated expression on her face.
"Well?" She asks, waiting for an explanation from the mysterious man.
Silco takes his time. He closes the door to her one room apartment and steps inside; his eyes examining in a mix between desinterest and curiosity the small space around them. It's dusty, but not necessarily dirty. She keeps things organised and clean; a small stove and sink shoved against a corner of the room, a toilet on the oposite side –a basin next to it which Silco guesses makes the function of a shower, since it doesn't look like they have running water in here–, a small closet, and a bed on the last corner available. It doesn't look like much; but it's enough, and Silco still remembers the time where he had been forced to live in places like that.
The young woman is still looking at him, waiting for his answer. Silco hums.
"I'm aware of your privacy preferences" he starts, voice paused and appeasing. "But keeping you under my control was the best course of action for everyone."
She laughs; a dry, ironic sound that seems to echo in the four walls around them.
"For everyone? Or for you?" She spits, her voice filling with heavy sarcasm and a dangerous exasperation. "Afraid I'm gonna try something against you, Silco? I believed you to be more intelligent than that."
Silco's stare turn murderous and Ray bites her lip nervously. The words just blurted out from her mouth. She should be carefull, now. She recognises the danger she's in, what could happen if he plays with him a bit too much for his taste. But she's furious, the adrenaline still running through her veins; and she's not the one in the wrong here. She had just helped his fucking daughter to stay alive. The least she deserves is to be left alone; like she asked.
"Watch your tongue" he advises, a nearly melodic tone to it, beautiful and terrifying at the same time. "I can have you killed with a flick of a hand".
Ray gets angrier. He has the balls to threaten her in her own house. What has she even done wrong? Maybe she should have left Jinx die.
"Right now I'm the one with the blades and you the helpless one" she takes a slow step towards him, fire in her eyes to match his orange one. "You should be carefull with what you say. And maybe you should have listened to your bodyguard".
Silco recognises the answering threat on her words; though it's more of a warning from her. He's in her house, she's evidently tired and not in a chirpy mood, and they're both alone with those five knifes of her. Silco's not stupid. He knows she could do serious harm to him; but he trusts her to be more intelligent than to openly try to pull a move on him, and there's a reason he has asked Sevika to return to The Last Drop without him. He finds the young woman interesting –a good mix of smart stealth, self-awareness and confidence–; and after helping Jinx, he finds himself thinking about her more than he has of anyone else in years.
"You think I am completely unarmed?" He gives her an amused tiny smirk, barely a tug of his lips. "That I have come to where I have without knowing how to fight for myself? That I am, as you put it, helpless?"
Ray scans him up and down. She feels a mix between irritation an anger, but also undeniable attraction and curiosity. She wished he were really annoying, stupid and ugly so she could be properly furious at him.
"Maybe not" she conceeds. "But I can promiss you'll have a knife stuck in your body if you try something on me. We might both end up dead if that's the case. It's quite romantic".
Ray shrugs and fakes nochalance; but she's restless. She doesn't know why Silco's here. Why he has ordered one of his men to follow her. Does he want to eliminate her, erase a loose end? Kill her so Gray's men can't use her against him, like she thought said criminal could be plotting when she believed it was one of his following her? Find out more about her, as well? Silco's smart, she knows that. All these theories don't make much sense.
The man chooses to ignore her words and distractedly steps closer. His eyes flicker through the shabby room before landing back in hers. Ray feels wary and intoxicated with his closeness.
"Hasn't it occured to you that Gray's people might be looking for you in order to take revenge, darling?".
She feels momentarily stunned by the nickname. Something inside of her whines and shakes. It shouldn't make her hungry for him; but it does.
Ray thinks of his words. Yes, of course; Grey following her was her first and most logical theory, she had thought of that before. But that still doesn't explain why Silco would want to follow her too, or...
"You've been trying to protect me?" She blurts out, eyes widening and mouth opening without being able to mask the surprise at her sudden realisation.
"I have been trying to protect my interests" he corrects, adjusting the right sleeve of his coat nochalantly. "I have no wish for Grey to use you against me. It's only sensible to keep an eye on you for a while".
There's logic there. She understands. But she also knows that's not the only reason why he's doing this. It might be that he's just trying to give her a retribution for saving Jinx's life. It might be he's looking for her to join his lines. It might be he's just curious about her; interested. Either way, her anger quickly melts down.
She stares at him in silence, no more explanations needed. Silco seems to understand the conversation has reached it's end too and gestures lazily around.
"So this is where you live?"
Ray tilts her head.
"Too unsofisticated for your taste?" She jabs, but the words carry no ill intention this time.
"You forget I'm also a kid from the Lanes" he points out, after a glance at her face.
Ray smiles wider and her voice fills with mirth.
"Oh, I never have".
Silco stops paying attention to his surroundings and focuses back on her.
"Is that a comment on my appearance?" He calmly asks. "I must say you're awfully critic today."
"Apologies" she answers, not an inch of true regret in her words. "And yes, I know how to read the signs. I know how to recognise one of mine".
Silco doesn't bother in hiding his interest. He looks her up and down, reading those same signs on her. Ray only smirks wider at him.
"You've changed, though" she conceeds. "Jacket's a bit too pilty for my tastes, but I admit it looks good on you".
Silco barely manages to hide his surprise in time; and Ray feels a small rush of satisfaction and warmth at the honest reaction, for once.
"Does it?" He finally adds, examining her with more intent now, his eyes wary but curious on her dark ones. "I thought you didn't like anything associated with power".
She shrugs, not taking her eyes of him.
"I don't want to posses it" she gently corrects, and gathers her courage to add, confidently "I've never said I don't find a man in charge attractive."
Silco pays undivided attention to her. She can feel him analising her. She knows what he's trying to do.
Ray keeps her stare fixed on him; both staying in silence for some endless seconds before she breaks it out in a laugh.
"Trying to find the trap?" She guesses, and Silco's wary eyes narrow at her in retaliation. "Thinking what I could be lying for, what could I be wanting to get out of a simple comment? Such distrust... "
Silco doesn't like the way she mocks him.
"As I've said before, everyone always wants something".
Ray takes a step closer. They're standing at barely eight inches away from each other, now; close enough to find out the small details and defects on each other's skin, to feel the others breathing pattern on them. She tilts her chin up so their stare contest doesn't break because of their height difference.
"Sometimes what they want is exactly what they're saying" she manages to man up and point out, her wants and needs exposed on her expectant face.
Her dark eyes flicker over every inch of his.
Silco stares.
One of his hands slowly creep up to firmly hold the side of her jaw; his thumb carefully crossing over the skin of her throat.
Ray's breath hitches; her eyes darkening further with his surprising touch on her.
"You have just admited to find me attractive. Which I confess was a surprise to me" he finally answers, mis-matched eyes searching hers. "However, I haven't heard any petition yet. Finally found something you want to claim as a price? A reward?"
She feels a rush of warmth travelling straight to the apex of her thighs; burning stronger with the way he looks at her, with how he looms over her. She's horny now; and undeniably wet. She looks up at him.
"Yeah" she whispers, raw desire erasing any trace of mirth and cockiness of her voice. "I want you inside of me".
She's lost in him. Fucking wants him –needs him– so much. He's pulling her in like a magnet; all sharpened edges and dual eyes and commanding voice and aura. Height and thin waist and lean hidden muscles; dark hair with a few grey locks, scars and thin lips. Intelligence, danger, politeness and power. She's hungry, now. The most powerfull man in Zaun is standing straight in front of her, in her small four wall room home; and she wants to devour him.
Silco searches her eyes for five long seconds before he's slowly and almost nochalantly retracting his hand from her face to take his black and golden detailed jacket off; blue and orange-red eyes never leaving hers as if tempting her on his own personal show.
"Drop to your knees, then" he orders. Calmly, gently. Expectant.
Ray melts on the floor.
END OF PART 2.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
HEY HEY HEY!! TOOK ME A BIT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT TO WRITE THIS (EXAMS AND THAT, YALL) BUT HERE IT IS! SECOND PART OF SILCO'S/OFC RAY STORY "CLAIM THE PRICE". HOPE YOU'VE LIKED IT, LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
IF SOME OF YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO WRITE A THIRD PART WITH PURE SMUTT FOR THIS JUST LET ME KNOW AS WELL!
APOLOGIES FOR THE TYPOS. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!
REMEMBER I'M ALSO TAKING REQUESTS/PROMPTS; BOTH FOR SILCO AND ANY CLONE FROM STAR WARS. ANYTHING YOU'D LIKE TO READ NEXT?
XX,
Sky.
(Back to main masterlist here)
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ncisladaily · 10 months
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The last episode before the two-part series finale for NCIS: Los Angeles featured Callen (Chris O’Donnell) getting a file on his life — and learning just how he and Sam (LL Cool J) ended up as partners. (And thankfully they did! Could you imagine the show without their banter? We can’t either.)
In “The Reckoning,” Callen came face-to-face with Pembrook (Jere Burns), who had been part of the spy program he’d unwittingly been entered into as a kid. And in their last meeting of the episode, during which he got that aforementioned file, Callen also heard more about Hetty’s (Linda Hunt) role in his part in (and out of) it. She’d pulled him out of the program because she “was consumed with guilt” for putting him in it, wanting him to fulfill his potential. “That world was all she knew. It’s all she had to offer you,” as a parent, and while that may not be exactly what Hetty is to Callen, “you mean everything to her,” Pembrook stressed.
And before he walked away, Pembrook suggested, “take a look in that file. You’ll see who gave Hetty the dossier on Senior Chief Petty Officer Sam Hanna. I thought he’d make a great partner. No, that’s not true. I thought he’d make a great friend.”
So how did it come about that Pembrook would be the one partly responsible for bringing Callen and Sam together?
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“That wasn’t ‘til recently, to be honest, because the Callen thing has — with any show that’s been on for a long time, at least in my experience, you lay in seeds and then you sort of harvest them later sometimes. And sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you just leave them and you never go back to them. I think with our show, given enough seasons, we probably would’ve gone back and reaped a lot of the things that we sowed in earlier,” executive producer R. Scott Gemmill told TV Insider. (Read what he said about some of those things here.)
“With Pembrook, we went on this path where Hetty was involved with these kids and then we sort of needed to have a bit of a bad guy so that Hetty wasn’t culpable for mistreating Callen and that’s where Pembrook came in and Jere Burns was so great in that role and really brought it to life and then we just figured a way to tie it into our partners,” he continued.
Something else that they figured out in the process was the trap door in the interrogation room in the boatshed. “I wrote a scene where we had a trap door that went to the ocean and we thought we were going to have to build a replica of that room, our interrogation room, a few feet off the ground and put what looks like water underneath it to do it. And then somebody said, ‘I think there’s a tank in that stage.’ And sure enough, there’s a tank in that stage and we had built over it and we just had to essentially cut a hole in the floor of our set,” Gemmill explained.
“And that was so serendipitous that we knew we had to do it because what are the chances there’s a tank right under your set of where you wanted to put a trap door into the ocean? I mean, it was uncanny. It still gives me goosebumps now when I think about it,” he said. “We just added the weapons thing this last year, so that was a nice edition. And that’s cool, that we got to add things every now and every season, add a little bit more to the legend of the show, and we even have an upstairs for the boatshed, which we haven’t fully explored.”
The word “legend” might make you think of the two-part NCIS backdoor pilot that introduced the Office of Special Projects back in 2009. “I still remember when they were shooting that. I came down to talk to Shane [Brennan]. They were shooting down on the boardwalk or the bike path in Santa Monica. Long time ago,” Gemmill recalled.
And with LL Cool J bringing Sam Hanna to NCIS: Hawai’i in Season 3, they’ll still, in a way, continue to add to the legend of Los Angeles.
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ibis-gt · 3 years
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one more thing with anya and felipe for tonight. he’s used to getting up very early in the morning. she is adamantly Not A Morning Person
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coeurdastronaute · 2 years
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Footy 9
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Previously on Footy
“Are you sure you’re okay?” 
“I’m fine.” 
“You took all of your meds?” 
“You’re worse than your mother, you know that?” Jake groaned and pressed the button on the elevator a few more times, as if it would make it descend any quicker. 
“Just wait til she gets here.” 
“I can go to these sound checks and fittings myself, you know?” 
“And leave me all alone and bored?” Clarke shook her head, following her father quickly through the lobby of the hotel. 
“Don’t you have some girlfriend running around here somewhere? I thought it was her job to entertain you?” 
“It is, and she’s sorely lacking, though I’m going to give her a pass since she’s here to win an Olympic medal, again.” 
As they made their way to a cab, Clarke watched her father soften and relax, and it was true, remission looked very good on him. He was someone who needed a bit of purpose, and to be trapped in a body that wouldn’t cooperate was exhausting to him. She wasn’t prepared to ruin this moment for him, except that she was always so dreadfully worried suddenly. It was easy to see why her mother fret over him. But he was stronger now, and usually much more aware of the limits of his body. They just happen to know him well enough to know that he’d push it. 
Part of her couldn’t believe that she was at another Olympics. She hadn’t thought about coming back, let alone cheering for someone else in a soccer game. But here she was, three Olympics later, fully ready to cheer for her newest favorite player. 
“You know, she has a good chance to win again.”
“Is that your expert opinion?” 
“I’ve been watching a lot of film of other teams,” he nodded, scrolling through his phone. “Germany and Brazil are going to be brutal, too. It’s going to be a slugfest in the quarters with how these groups have panned out.” 
Clarke sighed and watched Tokyo pass outside, excited to potentially steal Lexa for a few excursions, excited to experience the city, excited to see it all happen with a little ball of worry forming in her gut. Her girlfriend wasn’t a fan of losing, nor was she particularly well-versed in it.  
“You’re really excited to commentate, aren’t you?” Clarke smiled as her father removed his glasses and carefully tucked them in his shirt pocket. 
He gave her a grin and nodded. 
“It feels good to be involved in this again. It feels better to give some weight to the women’s teams. Everyone’s so nice to me when I meet with the coaches as well to ask them questions and observe practices.” 
“Wow, everyone’s nice to you. Must be a real change.” 
“I didn’t think anyone remembered me,” he shrugged. “It’s nice.” 
“It wasn’t enough that I happen to date a girl who has been obsessed with you since she was born?” 
“I might be completely stripped of my titles if anyone knew that I’d coached her on a few moves.”
“You might,” she agreed with a chuckle. 
They took in the wonderfully magic city around them, bustling with movement, speeding past, even when they sat still. It was beautiful beyond compare. 
“We used to have fun traveling for stuff like this, when you were a kid, remember?” Jake asked. “Your mom would join us or leave early and we’d do all the stuff she wouldn’t like, like candy--”
“And ice cream. And a few shows I probably shouldn’t have been to.” 
“And too much time around all of the players.” 
“Hey,” Clarke interjected, “They taught me how to shotgun a beer.” 
“Much too early for your mother’s liking.” 
They both shared a laugh and sighed at the fond memories. For a moment, Jake looked at his daughter, amazed by her and everything she did and who she’d become, grateful to have so many memories with her that she could hold tightly to if need be. She’d long since grown up from the little girl who he impressed with a fancy dinner when they were at the French finals, or who he let run all around Rio, relatively unsupervised. She had her own place, her own career, her own motives, her own heartbreaks, her own victories. There was a full-fledged human he enjoyed more than ever. 
“Lexa can join us for dinner tonight, can’t she?”
“I’ll have to double check. If you’re going to be there, I’m sure she’ll clear her calendar,” Clarke rolled her eyes. 
“You’re not going to be bored while I do my tests and fittings and stuff?” 
“Like I haven’t spent most of my life waiting for you to finish,” she shrugged. “I plan on going on a little adventure myself and finding you after.” 
“Please don’t eat too much junk.”
“I was trained by the best.”
XXXXXXXXXXX
For the first time in what felt like years, Lexa appreciated the quiet. It felt like an actual barrage of people talking at her in nearly every language on the planet, while she shook every single hand thrust in front of her, no matter what she was doing. Even when she was done with the obligatory training and studying, even after the meetings and press conferences and interviews, she spent a lot of time with her family, savoring their time away from home. 
It didn’t hurt that Mia was over the moon happy, and her sister was just as excited to explore, or that even Indra, so normally stoic and business-oriented, was relaxing. Lexa let them enjoy it while she ran around. Soon she was going to have to go into her work mindset and they knew it, so she wanted to get some kind of memories. 
There was dinner with the Griffins, there was dinner with teammates, there was breakfast with her family, there was dinner with everyone to prepare. She was full and tired and ready for the quiet. 
But tonight, no one was going to bother her. It had been explicitly stated as such. 
The candlelight was a nice added touch, she grinned to herself. And even though they were in the hotel room, and even though they were just wearing sweatshirts and socks, and all manner of lounging around clothes, Lexa was happy she’d asked for candles. She was also insanely happy Clarke’s parents elected to get a suite to share and decided to spend the night on the town to celebrate being out and away from cancer treatments. 
Happy to be away from the Village, happy to be with her girlfriend, happy to be sitting quietly, Lexa watched said girlfriend greet the room service and smiled to herself. It wasn’t lost on her how it felt like she could breathe finally. 
“I’m so hungry. Please give me all of the food immediately. One bite,” she groaned as Clarke carefully placed it between them on the coffee table. 
The windows around them were dark, while the city itself was a nightlight, all manner of neon and skyscrapers. Lexa just wanted the arm glow of the candles as her girlfriend joined her on the floor. 
“Are you really going to go through a bulking phase in the off season? I don’t know if I can keep up.” 
“Probably not too much, but a little, yeah,” Lexa nodded before taking a huge bite. “It’s way better than shredding.”
“It all sounds rather painful.” 
“Maybe I’ll just skip it all and take up yoga with you.” 
“Are we going to be those people who do couples yoga?” 
“Maybe. Is that too gross?” 
“Yeah.” 
Lexa couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t long before Clarke got into her animated way of telling her about everything that happened during the day they were apart. She told her about spending time with Anya and Mia, about being invited to lunch by Mr. Nash and his kids. She told her about her mother and father, and watching him work again. 
“So your dad enjoyed himself then?” 
“Like a pig in shit,” Clarke chuckled before taking a sip of wine. “Talking about the sport he loves, non-stop, for hours, while wearing a fancy suit, seeing all his old friends, schmoozing new ones. He was very, very happy.” 
“I caught a few segments with him in it. He’s doing a good job.” 
“This has been a fun trip so far.” 
Lexa nodded in agreement, though she suddenly remembered how torn she felt, to see everyone, to be everywhere at the same time. 
“I’m sorry I’ve been so-- I don’t know, busy? It’s just been--”
“You’re forgetting that I am very used to this type of schedule in my life, and am an adult who can entertain themselves.” 
“I did happen to forget you’re the daughter of an Olympian.” 
“I’m going to tell him.” 
“Please don’t.”
Clarke eyed her girlfriend, earning a smile. They were quietly at ease and it felt so much nicer that the break-neck speed both had been operating at for the past few days, weaving in and out of each other’s lives, passing through for brief spurts and disappearing again. 
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” 
“Always a little bit of jitters before the first game of the Olympics. Actually, almost every game. But,” she shrugged, “I’m going to play as good as I can and hope it’s enough.” 
“Are you nervous for any other reasons?” 
Lexa groaned, tossing her head back dramatically while Clarke enjoyed it thoroughly. 
“Listen, I slept with her once and we never have to speak about it again,” she decided. “I can’t believe I told you.” 
“You don’t want to look bad in front of your ex though.” 
“She wasn’t my ex!”
“You never told me how many other girls on your teams you’d slept with.” 
“None. I know better than to repeat my mistakes.” 
“Evidently I don’t,” Clarke teased. “Getting in bed with another footballer.”
“Thank goodness for that.” 
The pair watched each other over their dinner and shared a laugh at the other’s expense. It was easy to fall into the rhythm, even as the night grew laster and they grew more full and more tired. 
“Are you sitting with the rest of the family tomorrow?” 
“Yeah, my mom is joining too, and then Dad will be with the other casters doing interviews and stuff.” 
“I might be fairly busy the next few days.” 
“I’d hope so,” Clarke shrugged, moving around the coffee table only to straddle her girlfriend. “Winning games and such.” 
“I’m happy you’re here.” 
“I got a new jersey and everything to wear.”
“Really?” Lexa grinned. Hands went to hips and held tightly there. 
“Yeah. Wanna see?” 
All she could do was nod. 
Clarke moved toward her room and Lexa scrambled to look over the back of the couch until her girlfriend appeared in just her Olympic jersey. If she hadn’t been a patriot before, Lexa was certainly on board now. 
There was a multitude of things on her mind, even though they were settling, but Lexa hopped over the back of the couch  and made her way to Clarke’s private side of the suite and closed the door behind her. 
XXXXXXXXX
“These were always my least favorite,” Abby sighed as she adjusted in her seat. 
“Going to all of the games?” Clarke asked, furrowing as she found Lexa running around the field for warm ups. 
“The Olympics. It’s incredibly stressful.”
“More than others?” 
Her mother nodded and took a drink, sipping against the heat that was settling in the high afternoon of the host city. 
“I feel like I get nervous for all of them,” Clarke chuckled, settling back as she watched the warmups. “But I also think she’s the best so there’s nothing she can’t accomplish.” 
“I used to think the same thing about your father. Still do,” Abby grinned. 
Befor Clarke could press for more, the large family that somehow raised Lexa appeared, descending the stairs and finding their seats, all decked out in identical uniforms. Gratefully, Clarke accepted the hugs and greetings of the people that raised her favorite person, noting that Lexa spared no expense to fly them all out and put them up in a hotel, to buy dinner and souvenirs. No one else might now how desperately she sought to repay this invisible debt she thought existed between herself and these people who loved her. 
“I didn’t expect such a big group,” Abby whispered after letting them all pass toward their seats in their row. 
“Lexa keeps a small, but mighty group of supporters.” 
Mia stood on her seat, bracing herself on her grandfather’s shoulders and began shouting immediately. Her face was painted and she was absolutely thriving. 
She had to have known where the tickets she purchased were located, but as if on cue, or perhaps she had heard the tiny voice screaming above all else, Lexa looked over, jogging toward the side that they were sitting. She couldn’t come much closer, but she pointed and waved and smiled widely. 
“I’d say her first Olympics are going well,” Abby chuckled, watching the little girl. “You looked like that at your first, too.”
“Much different face paint,” Clarke reminded her. 
“But just as loud.” 
Clarke shook her head at her mother’s memory. There was a different kind of warmth that settled in her chest as she watched Lexa taking a few practice shots. She was certain it must have been love.
NEXT
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tearsofgrace · 3 years
Text
endings are hard... but they aren’t impossible
tldr; the good place fucking nailed the finale, supernatural completely and utterly bombed it.
tags: wc--4.5k, gif heavy, spn meta, the good place, supernatural finale, spn wank, all gifs are mine, if you read til the end there’s a pretty gif
so i recently finished the good place (i was watching w my family and we finally had time to sit down and watch the last season) and god fucking dammit that ending is FLAWLESS. literally flawless. 
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and because i’m, well, me… i spent most of the time during that hour long finale thinking about how supernatural could have had even a fraction of that and avoided so much heartbreak. 
anyways. i decided to compare them. to REALLY compare them. to get into the nitty gritty of why the fuck the good place ending left me feeling, as the finale is all about, sated and complete. and why the spn ending left me confused, lost, broken, betrayed, unable to even enjoy my comfort show at all until a dear friend finally just watched an episode (8.08) start to finish with me. 
so without further ado (always wanted to say that) here’s the good place/supernatural finale meta that no one asked for
comedy
we’ll start small. both these shows have excellent comedy. in extremely different ways… but still
in the good place finale, the comedy was perfect. whether it was jason reappearing in the forest, michael trying to get through The Door, tahani reversing the “hot bod” bit on eleanor, every comedic moment was actually pretty emotional and added something to the show. they deepened characters’ meanings, added to their relationships, and made the audience think as much as they made the audience laugh.
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in the spn finale… the comedy was the pie gag. the whole sam shoving pie into dean’s face. beyond this being… like meta as hell (the whole prank thing) it doesn’t have any depth to it.
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and to add salt to the wound, this “hilarious” thing happens RIGHT AFTER salmondean have a conversation about missing jack and cas that is equal parts flat and infuriating. the brothers, in particular sam about jack and dean about cas, should care more. this is their family. and family is everything to them. but, no, by all means pie dean in the face.
last lines
this one IRKS me. okay. 
the last line of the good place  "I'll say this to you, my friend, with all the love in my heart and all the wisdom of the universe: Take it sleazy.” “All right.”  is ICONIC. okay?
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it’s a reference to season 1 that doesn’t feel fan-servicey. it’s kinda honestly emotional cuz it’s like a message to us, the audience. it perfectly completes michael’s arc. it captures the light-hearted vibe of the show while also somehow managing to be poignant. you can see it coming like the second before it happens but it’s also not the obvious choice. it’s just. goddamn it’s good.
the last line of supernatural…. is… “and cut.” not even said by one of j2. i mean i know it’s a meta show but COME ON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??????????
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now i hear you shouting wait but that’s just the end of the thank you message. okay fine whatever. in that case the last lines are “Hey, Sammy.” “Dean.” (i couldn’t bring myself to gif that moment)
i’m sorry but. that’s predictable. that’s obvious. that’s boring. that’s flat. sure, it celebrates the bond between the brothers. but like… that’s not what this show is about anymore. it’s not just about sam and dean winchester it’s about what they’ve created. it’s about the world they’ve saved, the family they’ve made, about how they always keep fighting but nope we get bland, boring, coulda seen ‘em coming from miles away lines for the very end. that’s fine.
montages
the spn finale is like 50% montages that don’t make sense and are poorly done and not emotional
the good place has a montage of michael being human that brought me to tears
timing
here’s another short section. the good place finale was 53 minutes long as opposed to the usual 20 minute long runtime of every episode. granted, the fandom of the good place is very different, but STILL there was no documentary telling the fans things they ALREADY knew (there was a short special after the ep, but the episode itself was still far longer than normal). it was 53 minutes of plot. of really fucking good not rushed plot. 
the supernatural finale was… what 36 minutes long?? as opposed to the normal 40 minute runtime?? granted, we did get an hour long documentary of things we’ve all heard in cons and interviews a billion times so hey. take what you can get i guess.
character arcs
this is most of the meat of this meta. one thing we’ve all been harping on a TON is how they RUINED character arcs. soooo let’s go through and juxtapose some character arcs shall we
eleanor
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eleanor shellstrop starts the show completely self-obsessed. she died getting hit by shopping carts while picking up margarita mix and let’s be real she’s a total icon. love her to death. she grows a ton, becomes one of the most selfless characters on the show, and starts to actually (jack forbid) CARE about things. it’s one of the most satisfying and relatable character arcs i’ve ever seen. 
it’s not just her selfishness either, her character is super multi-faceted and complex, and i feel like even in the end we’re getting to know her better. she’s afraid of commitment, always worried about what others’ actions will do to her, loves the trivial side of life, is queer as fuck (as acknowledged by the show in a way that’s not harmful at all but also isn’t explicitly bi/pan/unlabeled/omni etc, allowing queer fans to see their own identity in her), and is all around a HUMAN BEING. her ending at the beginning of the show was her death. her stupid, trivial, meaningless death where she was, as she puts it, all alone. and her final ending ISNT that. yes, everyone goes before her. and i think that’s purposeful. to show that she’s grown enough that being alone in some sense is okay.
but she’s never TRULY alone. and in the end. the REAL end. janet is there. the whole time. because eleanor asked her to be!! she got over her crazy need for independence and simply asked for help. and eleanor dies an amazing person that has become selfless, has found joy in philosophy while still enjoying trashy content, has fixed her relationship with her mother, and has found a sense of completion. eleanor’s life ends on her terms, and it’s beautiful.
dean
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alright. now just as you’re feeling all warm and fuzzy let’s look at dean winchester’s ending. you’ve heard it a million times, so i’ll be brief. dean was raised to be a hunter, a soldier, a killing machine with no feelings and no purpose. he was raised to die scared on a hunt, his life over because of some mistake he made because he will NEVER measure up. at least that’s what john and everyone else told him with the exceptions of some of his family (and family don’t end in blood). he started to accept that he didn’t have to have this. he started to realize that he could CHOOSE what his ending was. 
the beautiful thing is, we never truly got to see what that was. i personally like to think it’s similar to the roadhouse michael locked him in while he was trapped in his own mind. a safe place for hunters, somewhere he (and cas in my opinion, but that’s not important) could settle down and still be in the life. it would be an amazing tribute to jo and ellen, and just all around a great ending. he wouldn’t have to be scared, but he wouldn’t have to conform to some apple pie facade of normalcy. and ya know what?? say that he died so he could have peace i dare you. because dean doesn’t find peace until sam is there anyway so i beg of you WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT. 
dean winchester died scared. dean winchester died on a hunt. dean winchester died on one of john’s old hunts. dean winchester died not directly at the hands of a monster, but at the hands of a mistake. his mistake. dean winchester died without ever working through the trauma of his best friend in the entire world confessing his love in a final act of self-sacrifice. dean winchester died in a way that leaves a sour taste in my mouth and does not at all show the audience what he’s been through and how much he’s grown. dean winchester did not die on his terms, and he deserved better.
chidi
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okay back to happy. chidi anagonye. by far my personal favorite good place character (don’t tell anyone i always say jason cuz he and i are very similar). chidi in the last few episodes is SO DRASTICALLY different than the chidi we meet at the beginning. he’s decisive, confident, self-assured, and it’s amazing to see. he’s not afraid of life anymore. he’s not afraid to make the wrong decision and forever alter his reality, because he’s okay with failure. 
at the beginning, chidi was so petrified of life that… it killed him. and in the end, he’s completely at peace with every decision he makes, even the final one. yes, he considered staying for eleanor, but that just shows how his moral code and his compassion for others is still very much still intact. it shows the audience that you can be confident and decisive without being a selfish asshole. 
chidi leaves the good place knowing that it’s the right thing to do. knowing without a doubt that his time has come. the old chidi never would have been able to fathom being that sure about something. it’s beautiful. it’s a development that can give the audience peace, can show them that this drastic of change is possible, and that chidi became a better person for all of it. chidi went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.
sam
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… this one might be controversial… but sam winchester. god i hated sam’s ending. at first i was kinda okay with it. like, okay fine he got his normal life. but, really, in the end that’s not what sam wanted. he started to realize that he didn’t need that apple pie, white picket fence life. he didn’t need the wife and the kids and the backyard and the barbecues because that is NOT sam’s personality and i will throw hands on that. 
that’s not to say he doesn’t want some sort of romance, maybe even kids, but not in that way. he lets himself see that he doesn’t need to be defined by his rebellion to john. doesn’t need to be defined by going to college or any of those “normal” smart kid things because it doesn’t fit him. and that’s okay! but how does sam’s story end? it ends with a wife (that isn’t even important enough to show her face). with kids. with a goddamn white picket fence. we think he’s still hunting to some extent… but it’s not the arc we were led to believe would happen. it’s not this amazing leader sam that we see in season 12-14, uniting hunters and organizing them. 
he had SO MUCH potential and they throw it away on a vanilla ending that shows only surface level pain at losing his brother. he doesn’t even invite the rest of their family to the wake for fuck’s sake. jared did an incredible job. pls don’t think i’m saying he didn’t. but that script…. sam winchester’s arc was cut short. he didn’t go on his terms, and he deserved better.
jason
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jason mandoza. the only character that has ever embodied my complete dumbass energy to the insane extent that it exists. he went to hell for his impulsivity. he never thought before a decision. i aspire to be as reckless as jason while on earth. but he LEARNED. he got better, just like they all did. and by the end of the show, jason doesn’t need to be impulsive anymore. much like eleanor being left “alone,” the show does a masterful job with making him be the first one to go, capturing his old impulsiveness. but he chooses to leave. he takes his time in deliberation, waiting until a feeling of peace, of completion, of well, ‘true happiness’ (sorry cas stans, i’m right there with you) has settled over him. 
the ending of his story is one of growth, just like all these characters have been. and the best part? the show makes it comedic in the most poignant and beautiful way, because it’s jason, it had to be funny. we learn that jason has been in the woods for like, eons, just waiting to go through the door because he wants to give janet a necklace. he’s learned to simply wait. to be at peace with… nothing. his torture was being a monk, but in the end, jason embodies those ideals. his arc comes to fruition in an extremely satisfying way. jason goes on his own terms, and it’s beautiful.
castiel
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this one is gonna hurt like a bitch. castiel is my comfort character. he’s my role model. he’s me in a lot of ways. i love him. so fucking much. so excuse me if this is slightly incoherent. i’m actually okay with cas’ ending… in a way. because his actual ending as an on-screen character? perfect. self-sacrifice while coming out and professing his love to dean winchester. a little bit bury the gays, but let’s be real, it’s supernatural. and “happiness is in just saying it” has to be the most powerful way to think of coming out. it takes away the fear, it takes away so much of the pain that can follow. because the joy is in just saying the words.
it’s how this was treated on the show that makes cas’ character arc terrible (and we haven’t even gotten to 15.20). YOU CANNOT JUST IGNORE A LOVE CONFESSION. that is god awful writing and i will never change my mind on that. cas deserved his family to care about him. to at least address and be sad about the fact he was gone. jesus fucking christ after everything castiel deserved at least that. and then we go to 15.20. cas is in heaven. cas is serving god. cas is right back where he started. now, i’m coming off a little strong. 
if the show had decided to show us cas and jack in heaven makin’ the world a better place… i woulda come around to it. i woulda realized that that’s not REALLY erasing 12 years of character development and cas realizing that his whole identity isn’t just him serving heaven and isn’t just him being an angel and that he’s so much more than all of that and he could still be happy as a human… because really he’s with his son. but they didn’t show us that. they barely even mentioned him. and to me. that counts as a bad character arc. and i’m sorry if you disagree. castiel may have gone on his own terms, but they treated that beautiful sacrifice with disrespect and disdain, plus resolved his arc by putting him back where he started. he deserved better.
tahani
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*deep breaths guys this is a long post i’m sorry* anywayyyy tahani!!! we love tahani obviously. let’s talk about her arc, because it always kinda bothered me. throughout the show, we see all the other character’s growing and expanding their knowledge of right and wrong. and, don’t get me wrong. we see tahani grow a lot. but she makes a lot of the same types of comments and shit like that. but it’s how she treats the reactions to those comments. by the end of the show, she laughs at the caricature of herself that the others see. she isn’t looking for vindication in name-dropping, she just does it. she is far less self-absorbed, and is genuinely interested in those around her. she fixes her relationships with her sister and her parents in a way that doesn’t feel forced and actually feels like a beautiful, healthy family reunion. 
she has a list and she does everything on it. it’s worth noting, that the things on her list are not at all what they would have been at the beginning of the show. most of them are humble “labor” type tasks, and all of them are in self improvement. tahani’s end on the show is not the same as everyone else’s. she realizes that she doesn’t need to be done. that there doesn’t have to be an end to self-improvement. and she becomes an architect. the writers perfectly embody her transformation from a self-obsessed rich girl who has never done a thing for herself and laughs at the lower-class to a down-to-earth worker that simply doesn’t want the journey to end. 
it’s incredible how perfectly the writers were able to close off these character arc’s without it feeling forced, and without ignoring their character development. imagine that. tahani chooses her own way, and it’s beautiful.
jack
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jack’s ending may be the only one that i’ve actually somewhat come to terms with. it’s not terrible. it’s not great. but it’s not nearly as bad. because ignoring that awful monologue about every drop of rain and shit, jack really does end up helping people. he ends up doing something that he loves and that makes the world a better place. and he doesn’t lose his personality in it. but. i dunno, that’s still his destiny, right? to create paradise. and this is a show about ripping up the rule book, about choosing free will above all else… so to have every single character just fulfill their destiny is cheap. 
still… i’ll try to be unbiased. because really at the beginning of jack’s time on the show, he’s unsure what he wants. and at least, in the end, he’s sure. he has a wisdom that he’s always had but he’s now using. and i’m good with that. but what’s NOT okay about jack’s ending is the lack of on-screen family. jack learns that family is important. sam, cas, dean those are the people he cares about. and you’re telling me he would just NEVER see them again? and be okay with that? i know he rebuilds heaven with cas, but we don’t even get a story about him rescuing cas from the empty. and he seems in 15.19 to not be that concerned about it (after the amazing emotional scene at the beginning). jack should have cared about his family. he did. but they ruined that for him. so jack kline deserved better.
michael
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oh man where do i start. michael’s growth is the biggest on the show. i mean. he starts as a literal demon and ends a human. he gets better, he falls in love with humanity (*castiel fan in me sobbing again*) and he chooses over and over to be good instead of bad. his whole arc is a classic redemption arc, and every single beat just gets better. he chooses selfishly to side with humans but in the end it turns out to be the best decision he could have made. because he develops emotions, he develops compassion, he develops a moral compass. 
and his end reflects that. because to complete this arc of a demon becoming more human… he literally becomes human!!!! it fits so well. and he’s allowed to make mistakes and be happy and gain all that humanity has to offer. this just shows that human!endgame for cosmic beings that become more human WORKS SO WELL (and it shoulda happened for cas and jack that’s all i’m saying). michael went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.
eileen
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oh boy… this one stings. because they brought her back, used her up, and we never saw her again. eileen was one of the best side characters on the show, and they rarely addressed her arc. she comes onto the show as a hunter seeking revenge, and gets that revenge in the same episode. her s15 arc is focused on what’s real and what’s not, with her relationship to sam admittedly being a central part of her character because… it’s supernatural and women can’t exist without that. but still! eileen grows throughout the show and in the end… we don’t even know what happens to her. it’s as if her arc wasn’t important enough to even glance at. 
it’s as if the connections the boys make outside of each other mean nothing when in reality they mean everything. they prove that the co-dependency is behind them and that family doesn’t end with blood and that real connections can be formed between people that last a lifetime. eileen was a disabled hunter that was shown to still be one of the best in the business, and they didn’t even give her the courtesy of a goodbye. eileen didn’t go on her own terms, and she deserved better.
janet
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this is gonna unbalance my list but goddammit janet’s ending was perfect. she was a not-robot, not-girl that should have been incapable of feelings. but throughout the series we get to watch as she learns first-hand about human emotions and processes them. she cares about the humans in her charge and fights for them on multiple counts. 
in the end, we see janet come to terms with both her cosmic being side, and her human side. she never stops being with the “cockroaches.” she sees them all leave, she’s there for them while they’re there, and she also continues to speak her mind and live autonomously. janet was a non-human character done right. she lived on her own terms, and it was beautiful.
some honorable mentions
spn ignored (in the finale) chuck, amara, stevie, charlie, jody, donna, garth, bess, the other angels, claire, kaia, patience, alex, and the list goes ON in favor of focusing on JUST sam and dean. did none of those characters at least deserve a quick goodbye??????
the good place wrapped up multiple arcs i had completely forgotten about in a totally natural and not forced way. mindy, doug forester, (the mushroom guy, i know, it took me a second), pillboy, donkey doug, kamilah, tahani’s parents, eleanor’s mother, eleanor’s friends, chidi’s best friend, vicki, shawn, glenn, simone and so many that i’m forgetting all got satisfying ends that they totally deserved. 
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they even fucking resolved FROG GUY’S arc and gave him a real frog. that’s right. frog guy (jeff) had a better character arc resolution than dean motherfucking winchester. 
heaven and hell
obviously in very different vehicles, both shows explore in depth the realities of the afterlife. and lemme tell ya, at the end of the day, one sits a whole lot better than the other. 
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the good place finale ends this quest for the perfect afterlife by saying that everyone can improve and that an eternal paradise shouldn’t keep you from eternal rest. they pretty much make me wish that this is what our afterlife looked like. they handle everything with care so it’s balanced precariously in a way that doesn’t give you anxiety looking at it but instead fills you with peace and faith in humanity. 
supernatural addresses this series long battle between heaven and hell by creating a heaven where you drive for forty years without seeing the people (cough cough cas and jack not his parents) that matter to you and drink beer that tastes like shit. a place you can’t be happy or find any sense of peace until your brother has died and he’s there too.
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and hell… well they barely even address it. there’s a new queen of hell i guess? but so what. it’s still very much heaven and hell in a way that’s the worst and hey plus to them… makes me wanna stay alive thank you very much. oh and purgatory is in shambles and not functioning properly cuz all that eve bullshit.
loose ends
whenever something is ending, you gotta tie up the loose ends. not in a “oh, we must wrap everything up and leave no stone unturned” kinda way but in a “wow, we should probably try to make this unambiguous because this is the last time we will ever see these characters” kinda way. 
the good place does that. so fucking masterfully. all these side plots with all these different characters were taken care of all while focusing on the main six characters. we get to see how their intervention has changed everyone else. for example, mindy’s arc is wrapped up perfectly, with eleanor going to save her.
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plus different running jokes like “take it sleazy” are wrapped up, we revisit really old callbacks like the original neighborhood, and all of it feels natural and in the moment. it feels like full circle in a way that doesn’t erase growth. 
supernatural, on the other hand, left a million loose ends open. what happened to the boys they saved? where the fuck are jody, donna, etc.? did eileen make it back? cuz sam was pretty upset about that. what happened to it “being loud” in the empty? hell, what happened to the empty? what happened to hell? what about chuck? it woulda been nice to see just for a second what became of him. did charlie and stevie make it (i’m very invested in that relationship)? if we’re taking the original ending… why the fuck is jimmy there? did kansas just all,,, die? 
i’m not saying they needed to address everything… but god a few wrapped up storylines besides the brothers wouldn’t have hurt
coloring
can i just… real quick… as a giffer lodge a complaint
the good place has beautiful vibrant coloring in the finale
spn has like bland washed out whatever the fuck that is coloring. it’s not even the dark early aesthetic cuz they dropped that it’s just… ew. so. do with that what you will. 
conclusion
first… while writing this i realized just HOW MUCH it’s not about destiel… like believe me. i knew i wasn’t just pissed about destiel. but holy shit it’s not destiel at all like did i even mention destiel that much???? this was never about a ship. this was just a trash finale. 
in the end. the good place writers knew what they were doing. they knew their fans, they knew their characters, they knew their world, and they knew how to wrap it up in a way that was satisfying and sad and perfectly fit the tone of the whole show. it wasn’t out of character or rushed, basically every loose end was tied up without the audience even realizing that’s what they were doing, and i feel happy and complete having watched it. 
the supernatural ending was a betrayal. flat out. to the audience that has stuck by it in a way bigger way than the good place fandom. to the characters that have helped so many people. to the actors that have given so much of their lives. to the other members of the crew, to certain writers… all of it was just a slap in the face.
we deserved better guys. there are better endings possible. so i’m sorry. i really am. but i guess… that’s what fanfic is for, right?
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titan-fodder · 3 years
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Prima Vista Part III
[ previous ]
Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader
Warnings: a lot of feelings, handcuffs, testosterone, quite a bit of sex, one surprise kiss (cause Erwin is a privileged dick), parents, domesticity A/N: I apparently did not write an author’s note for this originally, but uh, this is one of my favorite sections of the whole fic, so. 
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Mike uses the rest of the break to relax, to get his head on straight so that when he gets back on campus he won’t be overbearing. He knows that’s the last thing you want from him.
 You text back and forth a few times a day, but most of it is dumb shit, and the conversation dies off pretty quickly—either Mike not knowing how to respond or you just growing bored. 
 He busies himself by spending time with his parents and playing with Scout who eats up all the attention. Family comes over for Christmas, and his mom and aunt get into an argument. It’s nothing new.
 He’s happy to get back to the school and back in classes just to stimulate his brain. More than that, he’s happy to see you again. Even if it means the two of you go back to friend-only status. 
 Things are awkward between him and Erwin, though. It isn’t the first time they’ve had a hiccup in their friendship, but this one has really rubbed Mike the wrong way. Erwin tries to apologize a few more times, but every time he does, all Mike can manage is an unconvincing, “It’s fine,” which the other man obviously doesn’t buy. 
 He tries not to be possessive when you start coming to the house again, but it’s fucking hard whenever he has to watch you and Erwin talk and joke around. Mike figured you’d be at least a little annoyed that he’d just walked in on the two of you like that, but you act like it never happened.
 Eventually, Mike has to ask about it, just can’t help himself. “Aren’t you, like, even a little mad that he did that? Don’t you think it was fucked up?”
 You’re sitting on Mike’s bed, a controller in your hand as you play Mario Kart, sound a little distracted when you respond, “I mean, yeah, it was fucked up, but I never really expected anything more from him.”
 “What do you mean?”
 You look at him from the corner of your eyes before staring at the screen again. “Erwin is a cocky motherfucker. I’ve seen the way he gets the girls on campus, probably thinks he can charm all of them which means he probably thinks he’s entitled to all of them. Us.”
 “Are you calling him a predator?”
 You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think he’d ever, like, rape anyone. He at least has enough class and common sense not to do that. But I think… He doesn’t care who he goes after. Single girls, girls in relationships, happy girls, damaged girls. He just has a one track mind when it comes to sex. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway.”
 Laying back on his bed, Mike laces his fingers behind his head and thinks on what you’ve said. “That just sounds like a drawn out way of saying he’s a flirt.”
 “A massive flirt. Without any real care about whose feelings he hurts in the process.”
 “Sounds about right.”
 “I don’t appreciate it,” you sigh, “But he’s your best friend, so I’m willing to put up with some shit from him.”
 “Even him perving on you?”
 “Not the first time it’s happened to me, probably won’t be the last. He’s curious, I can tell.”
 Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”
 You stay quiet for several seconds, toggling over to another track on the game, then ask, “That make you uncomfortable?”
 Blinking up at the ceiling, Mike wonders what the right answer to this is. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he doubts he’ll be able to act as aloof as you do. 
 “A little.”
 You hum, nodding in a thoughtful manner before suggesting, “I think we can keep hooking up through this semester.”
 Mike sits up on his elbow, looks at you with high eyebrows. “Wait, really?” He sounds too excited, he knows.
 “Yeah. I have mostly easy classes, or really, I have interesting ones which makes studying for them easier. Plus, it might teach Erwin a lesson.”
 He falls back flat, scoffing. “I don’t want you to fuck me to prove a point to Erwin. I want you to fuck me because you want to.”
 The game music stops when you pause it, and then you’re straddling Mike, hands on his chest as you smirk at him. 
 “Don’t let this go to your head, Zacharias, but no one has ever fucked me the way you do.”
 Mike tries not to grin, triumph blooming inside of him, and he grips your hips a little too tightly. “Oh, that’s definitely going to my head.” 
 You grind your covered pussy over his denim-clad cock, and Mike feels all his blood flow south.
 Laughing, you lean down to ghost your lips over his and murmur, “Both heads, apparently.”
 That day, the two of you start a routine that leaves Mike falling harder and harder with every passing day.
 *
 “Come on, please just be my date,” Mike begs, thinks about getting to his knees if it’ll help convince you.
 “Why?” You ask, looking up from your textbook.
 You and Mike are sitting in the library—you studying, him bothering you. “I’m honestly so tired of parties at this point.
 “It’s not like the big parties we throw, though,” he tells you. “It’s just the brothers and their girlfriends.”
 “That makes it even worse,” you push one little laugh through your nose. “What makes you think I wanna spend an entire night with a bunch of frat boys and their matching sorority girls?”
 Mike rolls his eyes. “They’re not all sorority girls, just like, eighty-five percent of them.”
 Your head lolls, an expression that reads nothing but apathy aimed at Mike, and he gives you a hopeful smile and adds, “On the bright side, we get to stay together all night…?”
 “Oh god, it's a cuff party, isn't it?" 
 All he can do at this point is beg because the more he explains it, the more he realizes how not appealing this is to you. “Please.”
 Sitting back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest and puff your cheeks out as you exhale heavily. “What’s in it for me?”
 Fuck yes. Half the battle is won. 
 “Uhh,” obviously sex is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, so the first offer he makes is, “I’ll go down on you ‘til you cry.”
 You snort. “Try again.”
 “Fuck you ‘til you pass out?”
 “Jesus—why do you want to hurt me? Try again. Third time’s a charm.”
 Mike brainstorms for a solid thirty seconds, thinks about what you’ve mentioned to him over the past couple of weeks, sex and school and—
 “I’ll help you study for your geochemistry exam.”
 You finally look interested. “I’d actually really appreciate that. You took the course?”
 “Yeah, environmental geochemistry was sort of my jam last year. Final grade was a ninety-seven.”
 “Holy shit.”
 Mike shoots you a satisfied smile, but before you can tell him to wipe it from his face, he asks, “So, you’re in?”
 “I guess.”
 This is how you both end up in the frat house handcuffed together. No one seems to be surprised at the fact that you’ve come with him, all the brothers used to you hanging around the frat house.
 Most couples are walking around holding hands just because it takes some of the pressure off of everyone's wrists, but Mike doesn't dare try it with you. Too cute. Too comfortable. 
 These types of get togethers are Mike's favorite, though, always more relaxed than the open parties. There’s still drinking and music, but the energy is different since it’s a tighter knit group. 
 It takes about an hour for Erwin and his date to approach the two of you, fingers laced together, drinks in their free hands. 
 “Looking good,” Erwin greets with a smile. "Very… trapped." 
 “Yeah, you too,” Mike says, trying to ignore the subtext of Erwin's comment.  
 Blue eyes flick to you, and you’re questioned, “How’d he end up talking you into this?”
 You don’t miss a beat as you reply cooly, “Bribed me with sex and study help.”
 “Ah, of course he did.”
 Mike’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches his pinky out to link with yours, a subtle claim. When you rest your head on his arm, he looks down at you and smirks. 
 “Anyway,” Erwin pushes on. “You remember Maddie, don’t you?”
 Mike lies, “Yeah. How are you?”
 The girl’s voice reminds him of who she is, “Well. How are you, Mike?” It’s a little high pitched and nasally with a northern accent. He especially remembers what she sounded like moaning for Erwin through the wall, obnoxious but Mike can’t really judge since he’s subjected the rest of the house to the same thing once or twice (or a dozen times) before.  
 “Glad to hear it.”
 The group stands together for a few more awkward seconds before Erwin clears his throat and asks his date, “Another drink?” then makes his exit. 
 “You have got to get over this grudge, dude,” you take your head from his shoulder, and Mike immediately misses the warmth. “Like, it’s cute that you’re trying to defend my honor or whatever, but it’s time to move on. You guys are friends. Just talk it out.”
 He sucks his teeth, almost tells you about the way he and Erwin had nearly thrown punches at the ranch house, the way the blond had basically admitted to wanting to try you out, but Mike decides against it, doesn’t want to talk too much shit only to end up making up with him.
 “Guys don’t really talk it out. We usually fight it out.”
 “That’s fucking primitive. You should learn to communicate like mature humans.”
 “Probably,” Mike hums. “But not right now.”
 Being connected to each other means every activity is a partner activity. The most interesting is playing beer pong against Nile and his on-again off-again girlfriend, Marie, house rule for the night being whoever is throwing has to use their cuffed hand. It’s like a twisted three-legged race and requires an amount of teamwork and coordination Mike has never had to deal with before. 
 It’s also the first time he manages to beat Nile. Mike had no doubt that the other man would have crushed you by himself, but it turns out the actual couple does not work together very well. All their shots are clumsy, and Nile gets frustrated right off the bat which only makes things worse. Meanwhile, you and Mike come up with a strategy after the first terrible throw and use it for the rest of the game. 
 You’re both challenged by a few other teams and end up winning every time which has Mike feeling smug about the victories and giddy at how in-tune the two of you are. Gelgar even tells you both, “You guys are good together,” which makes Mike cough as you wave him off.
 You drink a little more, converse a little more, and then—as always—end up in Mike’s bedroom. 
 “You want me to get the key and take these off?” He asks between kisses.
 You smile into him, let out a little laugh and play, “You don’t think it’d be kinda fun to fuck with ‘em on?”
 “It’ll be harder,” Mike snorts. “But, we can. Won’t be able to take shirts off, though.”
 “Good thing we just need to take our pants off.”
 It’s clumsy and silly, and you both tug in opposite directions more than a few times. Mike laces his fingers with yours when he goes down on you, relishing in the way you arch off his bed and squeeze his hand. On the floor, you give him head in the same fashion, and fuck, Mike can hardly focus on you sucking him off while your fingers are woven together, even if it is just for the sake of convenience. 
 He fucks you from behind that night, your face buried in his pillow as he’s buried in you. Both of your arms are stretched behind your back, held at the wrists by Mike’s much, much larger hand. He uses his free one to grip your hip, pushing and pulling you on his cock to his heart’s desire. 
 You’re so pretty, damp with sweat and moaning his name when your head is turned only to shove it back into his pillow when he makes you scream. Your dripping cunt opens up for him perfectly, making Mike feel more inebriated than alcohol ever could, but as his balls tighten and that warmth spreads in his gut, he has a single moment of clarity, assess the position he has you in and pants, “Shit, I can’t pull out.” Not without ripping your god damn arm out of socket or fracturing his dick. 
 “Mmm—fuck, just come inside, come inside me, Mike.”
 That alone makes him lose it, shooting a fucking copious amount of cum into your pussy, so much that it drips from your hole and runs down your thighs. 
 “Fucking C-Christ,” he laughs a little hysterically, gathering thick white and slipping it back inside you. Transfixed by the way his added finger pushes more of his cum out of you, he asks in a daze, “You on birth control?”
 “Yeah,” you answer in a breathy voice.
 Mike hums. “Good. Just gonna sit here for a while then.”
 You let out a whimper that turns to a whine when he rubs his slick finger over your clit. Twitching around him, you tease, “F-finger painting again?”
 He chuckles, “You know it.” 
 Honestly, if he could cover you in cum, he would—admire your body painted in white strings, watch it drip down your ribs and thighs. If Mike hadn’t just gotten off, he would be hard again at the mere thought, but for now his focus is rubbing your little clit. Still face down, you spread your legs more and more, and Mike has to curl over you, breathing heavily on your neck as you wriggle and buck, overstimulating him as he keeps his cock nestled inside of you.
 He groans just as loud as you do as you start pulsing around him, pussy clenching in a way that actually pulls a few more drops of cum from Mike, then you both pant for a little while until Mike straightens up and pulls you with him, your back to his chest as you hang your head. 
 “You good?” He questions, brushing his lips over your neck as lightly as possible.
 “Yeah,” you tell him. “Just… Full.”
 Mike’s body heats all over again as he rests his forehead on your uppermost vertebrae. “Can’t just say stuff like that,” he warns, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.
 “Hmm.” He can see the little smile on your face without even looking up. “You did offer to fuck me until I pass out.”
 “I have a refractory period, you know.”
 You glance over your shoulder, and now Mike gets a good look at your smirk and twinkling eyes. “I can wait.”
 Both of you emerge from the room in the early hours of the morning, still stuck together as you quietly make your way downstairs to find the key to the handcuffs. You’re wearing a pair of Mike’s gym shorts, the mesh falling far past your knees and barely staying up around your waist. He knows you’re still messy and can tell by the way you’re walking that you’re sore, but he has every intention of cleaning you up and taking care of all your aches and pains in the shower. 
 *
It’s party after god damn party with classes and studying and fucking in between. You have never had this much sex in your life, but you’re not complaining. It takes the edge off, and Mike isn’t the worst company. Far from it, actually. The more you get to know him, the more he falls into what you think is his real personality. 
 The brash frat boy is a front, you come to find out, a mask to fit in with everyone else, one he wears very well. 
 But, when it’s just the two of you in his room playing video games or watching TV, he actually relaxes, gets quieter and much more reflective. The pastels and khakis and Hawaiian shirts stay hung up in his closet, both of you lounging in t-shirts and joggers more often than not.
 He more or less tutors you in geochemistry, and between that and all the nerd shit in his room, you realize… Mike is kind of extremely smart. And, it’s kind of extremely hot.
 “I still don’t understand why you hide it,” you tell him one afternoon as you watch him play Ocarina of Time. 
 He shrugs, green eyes wide and focused on the screen, gives you the same answer he did last semester when you’d asked a similar question: “People are more interested in other things.”
 “So you adopted the obnoxious frat boy persona?”
 “I guess. It makes the college experience a lot easier.”
 You cock your head to the side, genuinely curious when you ask, “Doesn’t it wear you out? Seems like you’re just an introvert in hiding.”
 Mike laughs, pauses the game, and looks at you. “It used to. Some days it still does. But, it’s easier than taking shit from the guys.”
 Squinting at him, you mumble, “I will beat up anyone who gives you shit about being a nerd.”
 It makes him laugh. Loudly. And, you see a certain curiosity glimmering in his eyes, unasked questions—probably something along the lines of when you started caring and getting protective over him. 
 You’re not. Not exactly. You just don’t like the idea of anyone giving him a hard time. 
 “No offense, babe, but I don’t know how much damage you could inflict on anyone. You’re, like, two feet tall.”
 You straighten up, chest puffing up as you pull your fists up to your chin and rock back and forth like a Street Fighter character. “You wanna fuckin’ go, Zacharias? I’ll show you how much damage I can inflict.”
 He grins in that boyish way that always makes you look away. It’s too cute and too charming and makes you feel too many things. 
 Mike hangs his long legs over the side of the bed and pulls you on top of him with no problem whatsoever. You’re eye level with him now, heart beating too fast as you hold his shoulders, eyes flicking to his lips. 
 “We can go if you want. We can do whatever you want.”
 He has feelings for you. You know he does, can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the way he fucks you, and you really should cut things off, but… You don’t want to. He’s the most tolerable person you’ve met on campus, much less annoying than Hitch. You have things in common and joke around until you’re both rolling in laughter. And, of course, the sex is incredible. 
 It’s just casual, you keep telling yourself. Mike is smart enough not to push things. He knows better, knows you’ll just turn him down, and though it’s hard to admit, that wouldn’t just hurt him; it’d hurt you too.
 In his lap now, you don’t encourage him to take things further, mostly because you’re still sore from the night before, and he understands that. Instead, you lock your arms around his neck and change the subject to something that’s still bothering you even after several weeks.
 “Have you and Erwin made up yet?”
 Mike makes a face, answers, “Not exactly.”
 “The hell does that mean?”
 “It means we’re talking a little more, but it’s always short conversations and the problem still hasn’t been addressed.”
 You let out a little, “Ugh,” then state, “You guys are impossible.”
 It really doesn’t make sense that he’s so upset about it, especially since you’ve gotten over it. It was a shitty thing for Erwin to do—walking in like that—but you don’t think it’s anything to end a friendship over.
 And, with that thought in mind, you spend the rest of the afternoon devising a plan. It’s not in your nature to meddle, but it seems, in this case, you’re gonna have to.
 *
 Mike is in his fancy ecology class when you walk into the Pike house, nodding at everyone in the den as you step further inside. You learned a few months ago that it’s much safer to keep your shoes on, less jarring to step on a sticky floor the first years didn’t do a good job cleaning. 
 Nile is reclining sideways on the couch with Marie between his legs, an action movie playing on the ridiculously big TV mounted on the wall. 
 “Is Erwin here?” You ask.
 Nile looks at you with a frown, one that’s completely warranted since you’ve literally never asked this before. 
 “Uh, yeah.” He points up at the ceiling. “In his room.”
 “Cool, thanks.”
 “You know which one it is?”
 Squeezing one eye shut, you’re honest when you tell him, “I think so.”
 The way Marie is quick to pipe up, “Second furthest to the left, right next to the bathroom,” is very amusing, especially when Nile clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.
 You make your way upstairs, following Marie’s directions, then take a deep breath before knocking on Erwin’s door, clueless as to what his lock code might be.
 It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Erwin. His eyes widen a bit when he sees you, craning his neck back like he’s shocked that you’re standing outside of his room. That’s fair.
 “Uh, hey?”
 “Hey,” you greet shortly. “Can we talk for a sec?”
 Erwin blinks a few times then steps to the side, murmuring, “Yeah, of course.”
 His space is very different from Mike’s, more organized, framed pictures, bed completely made. Even his desk is clean, papers and books all stacked neatly on one side of his open laptop.
 “Studying?” You question.
 “Yeah. Would you like to sit down?” His voice is deep—not as deep as Mike’s—and always so proper, like he spent his childhood in country clubs (he did). 
 “Not really,” you answer without any hesitation.
 Unsurprisingly, Erwin leans against his desk instead of taking a seat himself, arms on either side, fingers hanging off the edge of the polished wood. It makes the muscles in his forearms become more prominent, veins popping against his skin. You have to give it to him, it’s a good move. 
 “So, what’s going on?”
 Running your tongue over your teeth, you recall what you planned to say—cut to the chase, stay firm, don’t get caught up in any of his tricks. 
 “You need to make up with Mike.”
 Erwin immediately snorts. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”
 “Half-assed apologies aren’t gonna work, dude. Actually sit down with him and hash things out.”
 “Yeeeah,” he drawls. “That didn’t work very well the first time.”
 “Maybe try again? You guys are, like, best friends.”
 “Levi is my best friend,” Erwin corrects, “And, I’m pretty sure that you’re Mike’s at this point.”
 “Don’t say that.”
 “It’s true,” he smirks.
 You wave him off, getting back to your original point. “At the very least, you guys should make up just because you have to live in the same house.”
 Erwin crosses his arms over his chest, blue eyes deviating upward as if he’s thinking hard. You doubt he is.
 “So, you’re not mad about what happened?” He asks after a few seconds. 
 You're blunt when you respond, “It was a shitty thing to do. Wouldn’t advise trying it with anyone else, but honestly, I’m not super surprised you’d pull something like that.”
 His facial expression turns to one of true offense, blond eyebrows furrowing enough for a little wrinkle to form between them. “Excuse me?”
 You take a step toward him, almost jab a finger in his chest but resist. “No no no. You don’t get to be pissed. You’re the one who fucked up here. I’m just telling you the truth.”
 Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself off the desk, standing to his full height to loom over you. It’s obviously an intimidation tactic, one he’s probably used before on many people, and it makes your blood boil. 
 In a futile attempt to make yourself look bigger, you straighten your spine and tilt your head to look up at him, lips pursed, eyes narrow. You remember what Mike said about you being too small to hurt anyone, but you can be scrappy. You’re not above slapping a face or kneeing someone in the balls. 
 Erwin peers down at you, jaw setting for a moment as he really studies you, then breaks into an infuriating smile. 
 “You’re cute, you know that?” He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you swat his hand away. 
 “Jesus, what is wrong with you?”
 This close to him, seeing the way he acts behind closed doors, you wonder how Mike ever even got close with him. They’re so incredibly different. For the last semester and a half, you've only known Erwin as Mike's somewhat obnoxious, spoiled friend. Now, it seems he's showing his true colors.
 “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’m feeling pretty great right now.”
 Oh, you wanna hit him. You wanna hit him so badly, but honestly, Erwin kind of seems like the type to call the fucking police if you did. 
 “You don’t have any reason whatsoever to be feeling good.”
 He’s still grinning, eyes bright and wide as his pupils dilate. 
 Are you calling him a predator?
 He sure looks like one now, a lion with his sights set on an antelope, and as you stare at him, it dawns on you that this was a bad idea. 
 “You know what? Nevermind,” you shake your head. “You don’t deserve to be Mike’s friend anyway.”
 The laugh that pours from his lips is not at all humorous. His voice drops when he challenges, “You think so?”
 You need to leave, need to get out of here before this argument goes any further, but as you make a move toward the closed door, he slides in front of you. You shouldn’t have walked so far into his room.
 “Erwin,” you grit through your teeth. “Don’t do this.”
 “Just tell me—because I need to know—” he breathes, still staring down at you with that unnerving gaze. “What does Mike have that you like so much?”
 Both your hands flex by your sides. There are so many ways to answer this question, all of which will evoke a different response. 
 But being who you are, you speak before you think, spitting the first thing that comes to mind: "You want me to make you a list, Smith? 'Cause I sure fucking can."
 He makes a little circle with his hand, a 'go on' motion, and prompts, "Please, enlighten me."
 And, so you do. 
 "Warmth, sincerity, class, depth, understanding—"
 "So, it isn't just about the sex," he cuts you off, sounding more sure than curious. 
 You pinch the bridge of your nose, tired of these god damn frat boys and their obsession with getting their dicks wet.  
 "I mean, it started out that way—not that it's any of your business."
 "I can give you more, you know. Satisfy you better—"
 "Please shut the fuck up," you beg, getting madder by the second. The confidence, the entitlement, is making you sick. 
 "You don't believe me?" He steps toward you again, and you back up. 
 "No, I don't." Because how could he? Whether it's stimulating conversation or sex, there's no way Erwin could compare. 
 And now you realize just how much you appreciate Mike. 
 Erwin is closing the distance between you, moving slowly but purposefully. "This is how it started with you and him, right? You made him chase you?" 
 "Get out of my way," you demand, trying to shoulder past him—
 And, you should have seen it coming, should have been prepared for the way he grabs you, strong hand closing around your upper arm to pull you to his body. Thick fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back, face tilted up, and all you can really do is shove at his chest with your free hand, growling in your throat as Erwin crushes his lips against yours. 
 Adrenaline courses through your body. You try to shake the hand on your head, try to jerk your arm from his grip, but he's too fucking strong, and it terrifies you. 
 Your voice is muffled as you plead, "Er—mmf—shtp—"
 You lift your hand higher and manage to hit him just beside his eye with the side of your palm, and it makes him break the "kiss" (you refuse to actually call it that).
 He breathes a heavy, "Just let me—"
 "No." You push his chest again, and he lets go of your arm. Quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you tell him, "You're a shitty friend and a little fucked in the head, but you're not low enough to force yourself on someone," you pant, shaking with nerves and rage, "So don't."
 Hopefully, you're not giving him too much credit. Despite the overflowing fury and fear, you still think there's a little hope for him. Not with you, of course, just in general.
 He stares at you, expression changing from confusion to understanding to regret, and before you know it, he's scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering, "Fuck, I'm sorry. You're right I—I got carried away. I've been jealous of Mike and curious and—"
 "Why?" You blurt because you do not get it. "Both of you are, like, top athletes and in a fraternity, could get literally anyone you wanted, so what is it? Is it because I'm a nobody? Because you're bored of the sorority girls? Am I the one chick on your list you haven't screwed?" 
 "I… I don't know. You just—"
 "Is it because Mike has a toy he doesn't wanna share?"
 "Maybe." Erwin is frowning again, like he's stumped. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. It's honestly a little pathetic. 
 "Well, pick someone else. I know you have Maddie wrapped around your finger, so take advantage of that or whatever. Just leave me out of it."
 Ocean eyes are wide and troubled. He really does look remorseful, but that doesn't change what he just fucking did. God, you're disgusted. And a little hurt. 
 "Don't ever try that shit on me again—or anyone else—'cause I swear to God, I will break your fucking nose."
 "Yeah, okay," he nods.
 You go to walk past him again, voice loud and unforgiving when you tell him, "Move," and then you're out of his room, slamming the door, and getting as far from Pike house as possible.
 That did not go the way you had planned it to, but you should have been ready for the worst case scenario. That's on you, you guess. 
 Because Erwin Smith may not be a predator by definition, but he's certainly something—something you want to stay away from. 
*
"Why are you acting weird?" Mike's voice pulls you from your empty head, and you take your eyes off the loose string of your hoodie—his hoodie—and look up at him. 
 "What are you talking about? 'm not acting weird."
 He moves from his place at the edge of his bed and crawls to prop himself up next to you on his pillows. 
 "Uh, yeah you are. Have been for the past week or so."
 He isn't wrong. You've kept to yourself a little more since your "conversation" with Erwin. It had just been so uncomfortable and jarring, and you don't want to tell Mike because you know he'll just get pissed all over again which would be very annoying since he and Erwin finally made up. Just like you wanted them to. 
 Except now you know Erwin a little better, and you're not sure you want him having any more influence over Mike. 
 Rubbing your face, you shrug and easily lie, "I've just been tired."
 And, of course, Mike is too smart for that. 
 "Tired? That's the go-to answer for anyone who actually feels shitty."
 "I mean, yeah, but I'm actually tired in this case." It isn't a complete lie considering how fucking late he kept you up last night. 
 Mike hums. "Wanna take a nap before the party?" 
 The acid in your stomach churns. The party. The one you do not have any desire to go to. The one that will push you over the ledge of annoyance and into the realm of genuine discomfort. You don't want to go. You don't want to hang out. You don't want to see Erwin. 
 Sliding your legs under the covers, you lay down in Mike's bed, turning on your side so that your back is facing him. You've told him on numerous occasions that you don't have any interest in certain events, but he always talks you into going to them anyway. So, what'll be different this time? You're just gonna end up downstairs huddled in a corner refusing to drink as your eyes scan over everyone, ready to make a quick exit if you have to. 
 Mike settles in closer behind you, the heat of his chest pouring across your back, and you can feel the pillow dip when he rests his head on it. He waits for a while before letting his arm fall over your waist. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, makes something crawl into your throat, trying to scratch its way out. 
 "I really don't wanna go tonight," you murmur.
 You expect some form of protest, a convincing argument in the form of a well thought out fucking speech while he kisses down the back of your neck, but instead, a low rumble of, "Okay," spills from his mouth, and you hate how it makes you feel—how grateful you are for him. 
 He's getting to know you. Has gotten to know you after spending so much time together. He can read your ups and downs now, can tell when you're joking or serious, take the hint when you want him with a single look (that one might be the most irritating), but it just goes to show how perceptive he is, how much of himself he's been hiding while in college. 
 The shallow jock you thought you knew is no comparison for this. 
 "Spring break's coming up," he speaks into your hair, inhaling deeply and whispering to himself, "Citrus kills me," like you can't hear him. 
 You pretend not to because it's soft and personal and would probably make him adorably self-conscious, and you can't deal with Mike blushing. 
  "Yeah, it is. Couple more weeks." 
 "What're your plans?" 
 You shrug against him, trying not to get too wrapped up in the way his body feels over yours, longer legs tangling between yours, his draped hand nearly covering your entire stomach, his stubble scratching your neck and cheek. 
 When did you get this close? When did you decide it was okay to be this intimate? This is what couples do. This is comfort. 
 And, you didn't think you needed it, but fuck—
 "Nothing, really. Go see Mom, I guess."
 "Come stay with me," he says quickly. "Just for a few days."
 You wriggle to turn on your back and frown up at him as a myriad of questions fill your mind. 
 Mike takes a deep breath, somehow reading every one of them. 
 "I know that sounds like a 'come meet my parents' thing, but I promise it's not. I just thought it'd be cool to hang out not at school and not at a party. Plus," he shows a broad grin. "You can meet Scout."
 "Mm, tempting," you laugh. "I do like dogs."
 "And, you'll love her! She's so sweet and so goofy and—"
 "I'll think about it," you stop him. 
 Mike bites his lip, looking hopeful, but tries to play it off with a, "Okay, cool," then leans down to kiss you as if you've already said yes. 
 Honestly, you have, just not out loud. He had you at 'hanging out'. 
 *
Studying sucks. Midterms suck. Avoiding parties, however, does not suck. Mike still goes to most of them, kind of has to considering they're usually thrown at the PKA house, but sometimes he just shows his face then comes to your dorm. You try to convince him to stay, hang out with his friends, but he usually just shrugs and digs through your stash of movies until he finds something he wants to watch. 
 It's fine with you, makes passing geochem a lot fucking easier, but it also means little sleep and a perpetual soreness between your legs. 
 You just… Can't get enough of each other. And, you think that's how it's always been since that first party. Afterward, you had denied him in the courtyard and then broke as soon as he got into your room to get his stupid shirt. Denied him at the bar then broke as soon as he leaned over you at the pool table. Denied him at the after-game party and broke after… Seeing his room? Watching movies? Acting like friends for the first time? Whatever it is, you're always falling into bed together, some kind of unstoppable force against your obviously very movable object. 
 It's something you think about too much now, always somewhere in the back of your head. At this point, you should probably just be with him, don't know who you're kidding with that lie about focusing on school (your grades have never been better actually), but you're scared. That's really what's been hard to admit to yourself, not the fact that you're attracted to him or the fact that your irritation has bloomed into genuine fondness and admiration. It's that's you're fucking terrified. You can feel it in your bones. 
 Don't get too attached because people leave. All the time. People let you down. People disappoint. 
 You don't want Mike to disappoint you, so you won't give him the chance to. 
 Of course, all of that is easier said than done as you look over at him in the Wrangler, one huge hand pn the wheel as his other arm hangs out of the open window, catching the wind that batters against it like he's trying to push back. You hate it when he does that, too many horror stories of car crashes that end in traumatic amputations, but it's one of Mike's strange simple pleasures, makes him grin as if it's his head hanging out instead. At his core, Mike Zacharias is just a huge fucking puppy dog. 
 A dubstep song from too long ago is blasting through his speakers, the vibrations hitting you square in the chest as you bounce your leg and bob your head. It's beautiful outside, winter's bite melting away into sunny springtime days. Some of them still bring a chill to the air, but it doesn't matter since you basically live in one of Mike's hoodies, dark green with the school's lacrosse logo stamped in the middle. It's faded and worn out and far too big on you, but it's quite possibly the most comfortable article of clothing you've acquired. 
 The drive to his parents' house is a good three hours, but between the playlist he's made (stellar, not that you'd admit it), the road games you play, and the road head you give him ("Oh, Jesus Christ, this isn't safe—this isn't safe—fuck—") you make it there in one piece and in good spirits, though you have take a few drinks of the soda you got at the convenience store to wash the residue of cum out of your mouth before meeting his god damn family. 
 He grabs both your bags from the backseat, slinging them over his shoulders, then starts up the path to a… surprisingly small home. It isn't a shack by any means, but after what you saw of Erwin's stupid ranch house and some of the pictures and stories Nile and Gelgar have subjected you to, you just kind of figured all of them had ridiculous amounts of money. 
 Then again, you know Mike got a full ride to college with a sports scholarship, and he rarely talks about his family and their lifestyle aside from Scout and little tales from his childhood—trips to the zoo, the one time he rode a dirt bike and broke his collarbone, he and his dad rescuing an injured bunny from the park. 
 You should've known back then that you'd get in too deep. 
 The small garden that lines the house is well-kempt and full of blooming flowers, and the porch is home to a wire table and matching chairs with an unsavory gnome sitting on top.  
 "What in the world…"
 Mike doesn't even glance to see what you're looking at, just opens the screen door and informs you, "That's Leonidas," so casually that it makes you snort and push him into his own house. 
 It opens up to a living room, long couch, recliner, coffee table and all. A TV sits right in the middle of a beige entertainment center, DVDs stacked on one side, blu-ray discs on the other. It smells clean—like the lemon wipes you use in your dorm—but even stronger than that is the smell of food. 
 "Must already be cooking," Mike muses, then calls out in a different fucking language that has you turning to him in confusion. 
 Before you can ask about it, a plump woman a couple inches taller than you comes rushing out of what you assume to be the kitchen. Her graying hair is tied into a loose bun, cheeks rosy from the heat, and she's still in her apron and a single oven mitt. 
 "Miche, γλυκό μου αγόρι!" 
 She stops in front of him and reaches up to grab his face, peppering it with little kisses and babbling words you do not understand in the slightest. 
 Mike is laughing, speaking to her in the same fashion, possibly answering questions or defending himself judging by the way he holds his hands up. You think you have an inkling about why when his mother turns to you, puts her hands on your shoulders to look at you, then pulls you into a tight hug. 
 You squeeze her right back, rocking to and fro as she does, then look up at Mike from the corner of your eyes in a panic. 
 What do you do, what is happening, what hasn't he told you? 
 It’s about this time that a large dog runs into the room and actually jumps into Mike’s arms. He grunts as he hoists Scout up, nuzzling into her beautiful coat as she tries to lick his face.
 "Mamá, let her get settled first," Mike laughs from where he’s getting attacked. His mother lets go of you, but it’s only for Mike to set the dog back down, and Scout takes the opportunity to sniff and paw at you. “Be nice,” he warns her, pulling you in front of him and pushing you toward the hallway.
 That need to snoop around is ever present as you enter his room, but the much more pressing issue is, "You could've prepared me, ya' know. Given me a little heads up that you're…"
 "Greek?" He snorts, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. "My last name is Zacharias. That's a pretty good indicator."
 "I—..." You pause, pout, then mumble, "I'm not a genealogy expert."
 "Obviously not."
 He dumps the bags on his bed, a queen size, thank god, because he had told you last week they didn't have a guest room (and had seemed pretty happy about it at the time). 
 "I'll get mom and dad to speak in English for the next few days." 
 "I mean," you shake your head. "It's their house. I don't wanna intrude on that. Let 'em do what they're most comfortable with."
 He steps over to you, makes his classic move of staring down at you and smoothing his hand over your hair to make you tilt your head up. "That's sweet, but I know they're dying to talk with you, so actually being able to understand what they’re saying is kinda necessary."
 Humming, you stand on your tip-toes just as he begins to stoop lower. Before you can meet in a kiss, though, you smirk, "And, just why do they wanna get to know me, Miche? Is that a secret Greek name too?”
 He licks his lips, voice husky when he replies, "I've mentioned you a few times--”
 “Uh huh,” you smirk, too close for him to actually see.
 “And no, I think it’s Hebrew or something.” 
 You snicker before your mouths meet, breaths grow heavy, and the only time you break apart is so that you can look him in his light eyes and tell him, "By the way, the whole speaking a different language thing you can do?" He grunts, encouraging you to continue. "Very hot."
 You feel him smile against you, a self-satisfied, "Yeah?" making you burn against him. 
 "Yeah."
 It's hard to leave the room, but you both know you have to, hoping neither of you look too kiss-swollen when you walk back into the living room, and when Mike's mom is no longer there, he brings you to the kitchen instead. 
 "Smells good," he tells her, leaning over the stove and taking a whiff of the prepared dish that’s been set on top--stuffed tomatoes and peppers that make your mouth water.
 She says something, and Mike lets her finish before asking, "Can we speak in English while she's here? It's kinda hard to add to a conversation when you, like, don't know what's being said."
 "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She immediately gushes, turning to you with a worried look. Her accent is thick and charming, but she doesn't ever stutter, clearly fluent, just more comfortable in her apparently native language. "I just get so caught up when my Miche comes home, I—"
 And, she's hugging you again. 
 "I'm Maia! Christopher—Miche's father—should be home soon."
 You rub Maia's back until she lets go and turns back to the stove, but even as she does, she's asking you, "How is school? What are you studying? Miche's told me very few things."
 He shouldn't have told you anything at all, you want to say. 
 "Um, it's good. I'm an earth sciences major, geology specifically, so Mike—uh—Miche's been helping me study a lot."
 He leans down to speak so only you can hear, "Not necessary to call me that. She's gonna know who you're talking about when you say Mike."
 Not that you'll tell him, but you kind of like the way 'Miche' feels, the way it rolls from your lips to the back of your mouth, and for just one second, you think about how you'd like to moan it in his ear. 
 "So, uh," you shake your head in an attempt to get it back on straight. "Yeah, it's going good, I think."
 "It is nice that you study together," Maia hums, slicing into the dish to portion it out. "Miche probably enjoys the break from his fraternity life." 
 Mike makes an unsure noise, but you grin and lean on the counter, eyes shining as you look at the middle-aged woman, "You know, speaking of that, I need to know what he was like before the whole frat thing 'cause—"
 "Uhh, we don't need to talk about that," Mike quickly cuts you off. 
 Maia, however, catches your eye and winks, a silent promise that she'll fill you in later. 
 Mike sees it, whines a dramatic, "Mamá, please."
 You laugh, glancing over at him with a devious smile that makes him roll his eyes and grumble something. 
 The creak of a door opening followed by the sound of a screen slamming back against the frame signals the arrival of Mike's father. It takes him a couple minutes to join everyone in the kitchen, probably taking the time to get more comfortable after what you assume to be a long day. 
 When he does walk in, once styled hair fallen out of place, top two buttons of his shirt undone, you see exactly where Mike gets most of his looks. He may have gotten his fucking mane from his mother, but he definitely got his height and his eyes from his father. 
 "Oh!" He stops short when he sees you, looks at his wife, then at you, then at Mike. "Is this the girl?" 
 "Dad!" 
 Both of his parents snicker as he turns to you, pleading more than telling, "Just ignore them, they don't know what they're talking about."
 You don't pay him any mind, join in on the fun when you lift an eyebrow and tease, "Am I, Mike? Am I the girl?"
 "Oh my god, this is gonna be a nightmare," he groans, the tips of his ears growing red. Still, he tries to put on a stern face as he points at his parents, speaks in beautiful, rolling words that are beyond you, then turns his flashing gaze to you and commands, "And you, don't encourage them."
 "Mm, no promises." You stick the tip of your tongue between your teeth and wink at his mom the way she had at you earlier. 
 All of you sit at an actual table for dinner, something you haven't done in at least a decade, as you talk and laugh between bites of food. Scout is laying underneath, waiting for someone to drop a piece of food, and every once in a while, you feel her wet nose nudge against your calf.
 Maia and Chris are very kind and very funny, and it isn't just because they pick on their son all the time. Chris talks about his day in the office, complaining about coworkers the same way Mike complains about his brothers—"I just don't understand why you would eat sardines in the break room! Someone explain it to me!" Maia tells everyone about the three hour phone call with her mother—"My god that woman can talk. Every time we said goodbye, she would just start on something new!"
 "Explains where you get it from," Chris says with a chuckle. 
 Maia scoffs then stabs a piece of his food with her fork, eating it with purpose as her husband watches. 
 You lean over to Mike and murmur, "They're cute. I like 'em."
 He grunts. "That makes one of us."
 Sucking your teeth, you mimic his mother's actions and dig your fork into the meat of his pepper, stealing a bite and scraping your teeth over the utensil in a way you know drives him crazy. 
 You immediately regret it when you realize how big the piece is, filling your mouth so that it's hard to chew, and you grab a napkin to cover yourself while Mike snorts and smugly says, "Yeah, bet you feel real smart right now. How does thievery taste?" 
 Shoving his arm, you manage to swallow down enough of the food to talk and tell him, "Tastes delicious."
 When you look back across the table, you find Maia and Chris staring at you and Mike with shining eyes and matching grins. 
*
You get along well with Mike's parents. A little too well in his opinion. There are a couple mornings you wake up earlier than he does and share coffee with his mother. He'll walk in to hear her sharing terrible stories about how, "He was such a sensitive little boy," and, "I miss the days he and his friends would spend afternoons here playing their little games."
 She even breaks out the photo albums one evening after dinner, leaving Mike mortified as you laugh and 'aww' at the pictures of past birthdays, Boy Scout outings, and the horrors of middle and high school. 
 "Look how cute you are with braces!"
 "Please stop."
 "All dressed up for Easter, oh my god, are those bunny ears?" 
 "Mom made me."
 "You were so skinny. What happened?" 
 "Are you calling me fat?" 
 "No, I'm calling you buff. Dummy."
 Less embarrassing are the long walks the two of you take with Scout (who also loves you, of course). She stays close to your hip as you wander around the park, only leaving your side when you throw her favorite ball. At the house, she noses at you until you shift to let her lay either at your feet or on the couch with her big head in your lap. 
 It's the cutest fucking thing Mike has ever seen, and he hates it because he can't do anything about it. He can't tell you how much he likes seeing you walk around in his house. He can't tell you how much joy it brings him to hear your laugh ring out alongside his parents'. He can't tell you how much he loves seeing you slide into his old bed in nothing but one of his shirts, making yourself comfortable against his chest and weaving your legs between his. 
 He can't tell you, but he can do his best to show you. 
 Late at night when his parents are asleep, when the buzzing TV is the only thing lighting the room, Mike moves inside of you with deep, slow thrusts. He hikes your legs up to lock around his waist or pulls you up against himself if he's taking you from behind. No matter the position, it leaves you clawing at him, breathing heavily, jaw dropping open in a silent scream. 
 You feel so good, so tight around him even after he gets you ready for his cock. Your silken walls squeeze and milk him, pulling every drop of cum from him to soak into you. Fuck, he's so glad you're letting him do that now, fill you up until you can't take any more, until white is dribbling from your messy pussy. The way you look at him all fucked out is intoxicating, eyes droopy, smile lazy, body twitching with aftershocks as he sucks on your neck and kisses down your shoulders. 
 You have to know. You have to. Mike knows his feelings are written all over his face when he looks at you, may as well be carved into his skin. The words are on the tip of his tongue every night, but he muffles them with kisses, with burying his face between your legs, with sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. 
 He can't say it because saying it makes it real. Saying it will make it hurt more. 
 So Mike keeps his mouth shut, watches you every day as you converse with his parents and play with Scout. You poke around his bedroom in your usual nosy fashion, finding the rest of his Magic cards, old D&D books and privacy screens. The dusty record player he'd inherited from his grandfather interests you above all else, vinyls stacked around it, some old, some new, and as you flip through them now, cross-legged on the floor and swimming in his hoodie, you tell him the little things you talked about with his mom earlier in the day. 
 "She showed me your baby teeth," you say with a snort. "Why do parents keep those? My mom did too."
 "Black Magic, obviously," Mike says seriously, but when you glance up at him, he chuckles. "I don't know, babe. It's fuckin' weird, though."
 You grin and look back down at The Alan Parsons Project vinyl in your lap. You're quiet for a moment, but when you do speak up, it's in a quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure they think I'm your girlfriend."
 Mike cringes on the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, that's probably 'cause I told them you were." 
 "What?" You turn your whole body to face him, eyes wide and incredulous. 
 Sitting up, Mike holds his hands out and questions, "What was I supposed to tell them? Hey, mom and dad, I'm bringing home this girl I fuck at school all the time."
 "We don't just fuck," you scoff. "You could've said friend or… Study buddy."
 "Study buddies with benefits," he lets out a humorless laugh. "How many of those study sessions end with your mouth around my cock?" 
 "That's beside the point." You stand up and walk over to the bed, hands on your hips as you glare at him in an unconvincing manner. You're not actually upset, Mike realizes. A little annoyed maybe but more surprised than anything. "The point is they expect us to do couple-y things."
 "We do do couple-y things." Mike reminds you, rolling his eyes when you snicker and murmur 'ha, do do'. "Oh my god, you're a dork."
 "So are you. And, a dumb one. What happens when they find out we're not actually together? Are we gonna have to stage a break up somewhere down the line?" 
 "Stop worrying about it," Mike tries, reaching out for one of your arms to pull you on top of him. You must be very used to straddling him at this point. It seems like you're in his lap more often than you're not these days, even if the two of you are just talking. "Just chill and fake it for a little while longer."
 You pout, glancing to the wall for a second before you mutter, "Might be tough. I've never had to fake anything for you before."
 Mike groans and traces his fingers up your sides, stopping at your shoulders and using them to guide you closer to him. With your face only millimeters from his, he barely even has to whisper when he presses, "Fake it just this once."
 You nod, lips brushing his, and from there you both devolve into sloppy kisses and desperate hands. As always.
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theanonymouswriterb · 3 years
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Dusk til’ Dawn
Prologue: The Queen saved the King
Paring: Kim Taehyung x Reader
Mafia Au Series
Warning: SMUT, literally porn on paper 😗, lots of fluff, violence, gang, bratty!reader, dom!tae, daddy!tae, daddy kink, babygirl kink, punishment, bigdick!tae, rough sex, make up sex, lots of after care, pregnancy kink, oral!sex, deep throating and everything in between🤧
Warning in this chapter: just blood, wounds and guns, well a gun
Word Count: 5.1k
Summary:
Kim Taehyung, Now a feared and well known crimes boss but not was he always the man that he is today, searching for the women that saved him on the day that changed his life forever. Willing to sacrifice everything to find the women that could tame him.
One day after 5 years she shows up in his night club, will he be able to hold himself back from taking her and claiming her as his queen or will he do what he do everything in his power to make her his?
A/N: Hi, this is the first chapter that I’m releasing and it’s basically the prologue of how they met, hope you guys like it, if you want to be tagged please tell me and don’t forget to leave some feedback. Also I might be releasing chapter 1 tonight or early tmr, I just need to read though it for mistakes. Much love 💕😗 -B
~
Next chapter
Five Years Ago
The sound of police sirens roams the city, as darkness and fog rain down on Seoul city. Helicopters roaring the skies and the bad guy trying to hide. Kim Taehyung, A man being tracked down by polices and rival gangs from a exchange gone wrong, blood spewing from his stomach and bruises on his face as he runs through the alley. The only thing in his mind right now is to survive the night and make it make it back home alive, or at least die trying.
He keeps running and running for his life as he hears footsteps behind him like the devil is chasing me to take away his life and drag him to hell but he isn’t ready to die yet! Not just yet. He still has a lot more things to accomplish and until he does that not even the devil himself can drag him to hell.
The cut in his stomach is deep and the pain his unbearable but he has to keep it up and there’s no stopping cause if he’s stops he’ll get caught like a mouse in a trap. But he is no mouse, no fucking mouse at all. He’s a fucking mighty lion, no a fucking Dragon that’s roaring and will get his revenge on the people that played him, the ones he thought were family and sold him out. He will kill who ever gets in his way but he’ll just have to survive the deadly night as it calls out to him .
The pain keeps worsening and worsening but he doesn’t know what to do but clutch onto the stomach and hope for the best. A dragon doesn’t die easily, it’s gonna take more than a pack of Hyenas to take down this mighty Dragon.
But the Dragon wasn’t always like this, he had a family, that until he was left in front of an adoption center with no note no fucking idea of where he came from or who his parent were, he spent all his life trying to find out what happened that night that someone decided to leave him, was he not worth the love that a baby deserved? Was he that worthless that his parents gave him up for adoption? Was he not enough. These sentences rang through his mad all his life up til now, the day he’s praying to what every god is listening to him to not let him die, he will keep fight on and on until he’s on top of the food chain.
Kim Taehyung grew up to do bad things, very bad bad things, join gangs at a very young age, was made into the leaders puppet and rose up slowly to be the right hand man of the Cobra gang.
The cobra gang was well known gang of youths in their 20s doing wilds shits like shootouts with the police and drug dealing and selling girls, the reason Kim Taehyung joined the gang at such a young age was to survive, he didn’t like the idea of selling people, doing drugs or anything as such but he had to survive, in a world full of
Cobras and Hyenas he had to survive. He mad a living out of this and he rose to be the right hand man of the Cobras but oh man, that didn’t didn’t go down well.
Did it!?
The thing that burns him was that he was never a Cobra, never was and never will be.
A few miles away at Seoul estate town houses ~
Walking into her house Y/N sighed, “can this day get any worse” she flopped down in the sofa and looked at her phone, hoping for a call from a certain someone, but what was she hoping for?
She got up from the sofa and strutted up to her master bedroom. From the ceiling hung a huge diamond chandelier, to the side floor to ceiling widows, fine famous artwork hung on the walls and in the middle room, her queen sized bed made for the queen herself. Her room was every girls dream, a large space with with many expensive things, a humongous walk in wardrobe filled with designer clothings, shoes, purses and more. Y/N could get anything she wanted, whether it’s cars, houses, clothes, she could get anything she wanted, but she was no brat. Well maybe sometimes.
Walking into the closet, she took her suit attire off, she was promoted to the creative designer of Givenchy and got everything she wanted on her way up the ladder but the pressure on her shoulders were too real. She looked at the mirror in mirror in front of her and saw her figure, she was a beautiful girl no doubt about that, she was fine as hell, the only thing that could fault her was her mind, the mind that thinks she could be a failure to her family.
After changing into a white tank top and joggers she walked back out into her bedroom and down towards the living room that Intertwined with the kitchen.
Y/n turned the kettle as she walked from the kitchen to the living room, she sat down on her sofa and smiled as she turned in the tv “ finally, I get to sit the fuck down” she groaned. As she scrolls through Netflix a call comes through a phone. She looked at her phone screen and smiled at the name of no one else but her best friend E, short for EziKia, a girl she has known since she was a baby, their fathers grew up together and were very close with each other and that’s how they greet up to know each other. “Hey bitch” her best friend spoke “ how was work?!” She continued. As Y\N looked at the TV she replied “girl it was a disaster, you know how I get when I have to present my work”. “I know” her best friend laughed “But I’m sure you did fine and I’m sure they loved every bit of your design for the new collection” her best friend smirked as she spoke, “I’m already proud of you, I’m fucking excited for the new collection to drop”
Y/n’s a young girl, she always grew up with her parents love and affection but couldn’t find her place in the world, alright she had everything she wanted from her parents, finding love within her self was hard. Yes she has confidence, yes she’s amazingly breathtaking and beautiful, she doesn’t need anyone to tell her then cause she knows that and she knows she bad and she can get everything she wants in this world. She knows she worth all that. But why is it so hard for her to find love, not with any man but within herself, it is almost as if she hides behind this facade of confidence. Her insecurity’s ushers to come out of her but she builds this facade to hide it front he world. And the one thing she is most scared of is losing her family if she doesn’t make them proud. She feels as if it’s hard to love herself and make everyone else proud of her.
Y/N groaned as we moved on the sofa and said “I hope so, enough about me and my day, how was yours?” Ester sighed “ my day was amazing until I got home and got into an argument with my Khai” Y/N rolled her eyes and asked “what was the argument about this time?!” “ He dreamt that I cheated on him and he got mad at me!” Y/N couldn’t hold I get laughter and laughed out loud “ what the hell, now that is too funny”
“ well now he’s still mad at me for no reason and I won’t be the first person to apologize cause it wasn’t me fault to begin with”. EziKia replied
“Well it was your fault” Y/N began “ you cheated on him” “In his dream”they both said at the same time.
Ezikia and her boyfriend Khai have been dating for a while now and they’re hopelessly in love but they argue about the summery things in the world, which is why Y/N think they’re a perfect match cause they’re literally dumb and dumber.
The kettle hissed and Y/N spoke “ what’re you up to now anyways” as she Stirred her tea waiting for ester to reply. “ nothing if I’m honestly just playing games at the moment” she laughed out,”what about you”. “ just made some tea and about to watch haunted on Netflix” Y/N replied and she sat down on the sofa and pressed play.
A moment of silence filled the room.
“Have you spoken to J yet?” The voice of her friend E rang through the phone
“Who?” she replied
Sighing out in frustration her friend spoke “ You know who Y/N, you can’t stay mad it him forever he’s also your friend”
“I’m not mad at him E” she hushed out looking at her phone.
J short for Jungkook was Y/N other friend, they were very close, they loved each other but they both didn’t have the guts to tell each other that, it could fuck up the friendship but it was only friendship right?, they would always fight and instantly make up but this was different, they weren’t speaking but it’s not like it’s her fault....right? J was always a nice guy, treating her the best, they would always flirt with each other but it wasn’t anything serious, it was always just games but when she saw him kissing another person, her heart felt like it exploded and she felt like she had been betrayed and betrayal was too real to bear.
But how could this be a betrayal if they aren’t in love? That’s what they both keep telling themselves right?
He’s not her responsibility and she doesn’t love him like that, but she keeps lying to herself and he betrayed her and so she can’t let it go. Not just yet, she just needs to stay mad at him just a little longer.
The rain began to fall as she spoke to her friend, they laughed and continued speaking, hours has passed and the clock struck midnight and they said their goodnight and they both hung up. As she continued watching the tv, the rain outside came worse, Turning into a thunder storm. The wind whistled outside and lighting struck and she could hear the Thunder roaring. She began to shiver at the should and the flashes outside her windows “ why the fuck am I sacred of thunder” she whispered to herself as she continued to watch the series, it still came as a shock to her at how she was some what scared of the sound of thunder and lighting but she’s able to sit through and watch a full series of horror stories by herself at night.
Hours and hours had passed as she watched the series and she felt her eyes beginning to fall close and she then drifts of to sleep on her cloud like sofa and feels like dreams.
She dreams about her future, what it would be like if she followed what her parents told her to become, maybe then she would think she wasn’t such a Failure to her family.
Although her parents were always supportive, Y/N felt that she wasn’t enough, she saw the look on their face of disapproval when she said she wanted to become a fashion designer, it was like she disappointed her parents saying what she said and wanting to become a designer instead of a doctor. But her parents were always proud of what a women she had become and loves her deeply. However she felt that just In case her fashion career doesn’t workout, she learnt a few tricks from her older sister who was obviously a doctor about how to deal with someone is had been wounded.
The man still on the run 10 minutes away~
Kim Taehyung on the other hand was also having the worst fucking day of his entire life! How could this get any worse, first the drug and money exchange gone wrong with the rival gang, obviously he was set up to fail by you know who and now he’s not just running from the gang who are out to kill him for more money and truce between the gangs as Kim Taehyung’s boss thought he was out to take his place on the Cobras throne.
Now with the police are after him too, since he was like the “ right hand man to the king “cobra” he knew a lot about him and the police where out to shut all the bullshit down but Taehyung had his loyalty, but how loyal can a ‘dog’ be if he’s been abandoned but he never snitches. Running from the gangs, Taehyung has a run in with the police and they saw him at his venerable place, bruised up and cut deep, so they decided to take him out to show the “king cobra” what they could do with his “people”.
But obviously that was fucking useless cause they used him and played him hard.
And Taehyung was no longer a cobra at this moment of betrayal, Kim Taehyung knew where his loyalty lies and that was with himself, he will get his revenge on everyone that played him, the cobra, the police & his family.
He continued running as his life depended on it, but he never looked back to see if he was being followed he kept his eyes straight forward and went on. The rain kept pouring on him as he ran and ran and ran like there was no end to the road, he suddenly slowed down as he crouched down in pain and held his stomach, “fuuuck” he groaned. He wasn’t going to let today be the day that he died, he had a lot to live for if he wanted his revenge. He got up again clinging to stomach and continued walking. As he approached a few blocks of town houses, he had to get out of the rain and get some help of else he might die, he walked up the stairs to bang in the door but there was no response. He then continued to the next few houses but there was still no response. He groaned in frustration as there was no one to help him. He then saw a light at the end of the block of houses and walks towards the light, walked up the stairs and banged on the door as if trying to break down the door.
He continued banging on the door as if it was his last resort which it was, he whispered out all his might but the only thing that came out was a soft breath “please help” he never thought he would have to resort to begging but here he was outside a strangers door, hair and clothes drenched from the storm asking for help not knowing if the person inside would be kind enough to help a poor stranger in need.
As if he gave up, he leaned against the door and shut his eyes closed, but then he heard foot steps coming from the other side other door and the locks clicked and the door Swung open. He looked up slowly from down at the strangers feet to the face and he saw the stranger in front of him, “wow she’s beautiful” he thought to himself,
“Thank you” he sighed out of relief as his vision became blurry and everything went black.
At Y/N House ~
Y/N woke up from her sleep hearing banging on the front of her door, she lifted herself up from her sofa that was way to comfortable to leave the room and groaned out “ who the fuck is banging on my door at the hour”.
As she got up she realised that she fell asleep on the sofa and left the lamp on.
She looked at her clock and it was almost 3 am, she then whispered “ why do I always either get waken up or wake up at around 3am” as if she was scared and her suspicions came creeping in the back of her mind. And she thought ghost always wonder around at 3 AM. She then was pulled from her thoughts by the loud bang at the door again and she slowly made her way to the front of the house and she saw a figure standing outside, she thought to herself thinking she shouldn’t open up the door to strangers at this hour, as she slowly turned to leave she suddenly hears a cry of help “please help” the stranger whispered silently.
As she heard the cry of help, she thought to herself “ I should probably help this person” “ but what if the pardon is a Pedophile or someone really dangerous” as if her demon and angel thoughts were fighting each other she huffed out a breath and walk towards the door turned the lock opened the door. There stood a tall man twice her size, built like a Greek GOD, dressed in a suit that was drenched from the rain droplets of water falling from his fringe a hand holding onto his stomach that was bleeding, bruises on his face and the other hand holding onto the doorframe. The man then looked from down at her feet, then his eyes lifted up to her face, she then saw him smile for a second then his eyes suddenly shut closed and he fell forwards towards her.
Her eyes grew wide was she was trying to hold her balance and trying to hold a man twice her size that just fainted at her door step. Not knowing what to do as the man’s head laid on her shoulder, she then whispered “ fuck it” then leaned sideways and the man dropped to the floor. Sighing she looked down at the stranger that passed out on her, who she then dropped to the door, frustration and guilt overpowering her mind and she closed her eyes and thought for a moment.
She then crouched down, grabbed him from under his armpits and dragged him a little further into the house and closed the door. She then began to slowly drag him through her house to the living room, “ damn he’s fucking heaving” she choked out. After a though 20 minutes grafting him through her house, She then was able to lay him on her couch that she adored very much and said “ well maybe that wasn’t the best idea” as her white couch began to turn red form blood stain that fell form the stranger. Then her eyes turned to the gun that sat perfecting in the holster wrapped around the mans body. “Shit”. Her face was stoned cold from shock, asking herself why this man had a gun on him and why he was bleeding and she palmed then slapped her forehead, sighing out loud in frustration and anger at herself for helping this possibly dangerous handsome man.
She looked at him and for a few seconds fought with her self, asking herself if she should still help this stranger for all she knows he could be really dangerous. She shook off her thought and went into her bathroom to the her first AID kit to help this poor, passed out man on her couch. She ran back into the living room, crouched down lifted his shirt to tend to his wounds and bruises.
As she opened up his shirt she saw how beautiful he was built, the tone muscles that covered him and the tattoos that bloomed on his chest. She also noticed that he had many scars in his body, the ones where it shows be fought for his life.
As time passes, she stared at the beautiful but bruised up stranger and couldn’t help but feel bad for him, she thought of many things that he must have gone trough and couldn’t help but wonder who this man is.
Time deciding to go really fast~
The clocked struck 7:30 am and very loud pound bang came though the house from the door at the front. Y/N opened her eyes slowly and saw the stranger lying into of her, she hadn’t know that she fell asleep looking at the stranger and she drifted into her thoughts. Then the loud bang pulled her from her thought and she hurried to her feet and went to the door. The door opens and she saw a group on men in uniform. The mother-fucking police. “ Hi miss, sorry to disturb you this fine morning, We just wanted to ask you a few questions if that is ok” she nods her head and the police proceeded to ask the questions. “ Did a man came knocking on you door last night?” She hesitated for a moment and shook her head no and the made some notes in their notebooks and proceeded to ask another. “ Did you see or hear anything suspicious last night” she shook her head again said “ no officer” and the officer furrowed their eyebrows and said “Miss your are not lying to us are you?” she then replied “ no “ and they ushered “ Miss you need to tell us if you saw anything cause this man is a very dangerous man and he killed a lot of people and we need your help” The silence loomed around them but Y/N didn’t say a word. Although she just heard of how dangerous this man was, she helped him and already lied and there was no going back.
She could be arrested for helping a criminal and lying about it. The shock on her face was clear but she payed it off well and shook her head in disagreement and said “no officer, i didn’t see anything or any man of any sort” and smiled softly hoping to get them off her back.
The police stared at her as if they knew she was lying carried on saying,
“ Then miss what is this blood stain that is here on your door step?” She was surprised as she didn’t realize there would be blood at her door step even though a bleeding man was just at her foot steps a few hours ago. She then huffed out trying to sound as smooth as possible, then lied “ You see officer, last night I came home late From my boyfriend house and I forgot my underwear at his house, you know what happened there” she winked “ I came on my period and bled on the floor and I forgot to clean it up” she then thought “what the fuck was I thinking lying to the police like that, this is embarrassing” They’re not gonna believe that are they?
As she opened her mouth to speak again she stopped her herself as she saw the flustered faces on the officers, they then said “ oh, sorry miss, s-sorry to bother you and thank you for your help” then then bowed and turned and walked back to their car.
Y/n shocked at her own words hurriedly shut the door and leaned against it and spoke” fuck that was embarrassing”. As she turned she was greeted with a shirtless man with patched of wounds that SHE patched up holding a gun towards her head. Her eyes then widened in shock but not fear, “ so this is how your gonna treat your saviour?!” She spoke, the silent that came after could Pierce through someone like a knife, he then softly growled in a low husky voice “ thank you “ and lowered his gun. “You’re welcome “ she said as she rolled her eyes, bumped his shoulders and walked past him back towards the kitchen.
He then turned to follow the small girl that helped him last night. As they entered the kitchen he spoke lowly “ so YOU were the one that was bleeding in front of your own door” he asked, she then said with confidence “YES, the reason I said that was to save your ass and I don’t even know you” she turned to look at him and met his ice cold gaze, if looks could kill she would be dead right now. “ that’s right, you don’t know me” he hushed out “ so why would you help me” he raised his gun again. “ Will you stop raising your gun at me” she shouted, he then touched his stomach in pain. She then asked with worry in her voice “ are you ok”.. nothing, there was silence as she watched him crouch in pain. “Yea....I’m fine for now” he whispered, y/n furrowed her eyes brows and looked at him with sympathy and said “ do you want some pain killers?” He nodded and she turned on her feet to search trough her drawers for pain killers and sprung back into the kitchen to give home the medicine. She watched as he gulped down the pain killer with a glass of water and smiled, relieved that she was able to help him. She then broke the silence, “ since I don’t know you, want to tell me who you are?”
“No” he bluntly said he got up to pick his shirt up from the side of the sofa and put it on. “Also, who gave you permission to take my clothes off” he said glaring at her. She then scoffed “ dude, you seriously need to get you anger and manners in check, I helped you and this is how your repaying me!” His gaze soften at her words but then he frowned again saying “you don’t have to tell me every minute that you saved me”
Y/n couldn’t believe what the hell was going on, this man she just saved from DEATH itself never mind the police, DEATH! was treating her like this. But maybe he was right she thought, maybe she didn’t have to shove it in his face every minute that she saved him, “sorry” she said Turning from him as he was finally dressed in his bloodied clothes.
As she walked away, he slowly turned his head and leave into the kitchen, he thought to himself that he should be great full that this beautifully kind stranger helped him when no one else would. He then followed her into the kitchen and watch her make food for them. He watched as she busied herself in the kitchen with her task and a smile crept of his face. There was literally and angel right in front of him but he couldn’t give her the satisfaction of that and so his smile disappeared as she turn to look at him.
They then stared at each other for a few minutes and as if time slowed down he couldn’t believe his eyes, it was like love at first sight, he couldn’t believe he was falling in love with this stranger at their first meet but it couldn’t be love could it? He’s just great full for her helping him...isn’t he?
“What are you staring at” she broke the silence
“Obviously not you” he replied harshly
He has to be rude and he can’t fall in love with her not now and not ever, because of who he is, if he falls in love with her she could be a target to the gangs and it’s not like she’s in love with him anyway, she’s probably so scared for him and wouldn’t want anything to do with him after he leaves. He thought and sighed.
Y/n watched him as he lowered his gaze and thought to her self what this stager has gotten himself into that he’s running from the police, he’s such a beautiful and muscular man with tattoos that covered his body and instantly she almost fell in love. ALMOST. She was just glad she was able to help him and continued looking at him in pity.
A few moments had passed and she continued making the breakfast and he gazed up at her and watch her work.
She could literally be the light of his world but his world is to damn dangerous.
A few minutes later she had made breakfast, she turned and shoved the plate towards him “ Eat . You’ll need the energy” “thanks” he whispered and they both ate in silence. “I’m Taehyung” she looked up towards him as he broke the silence “I’m Y/N” “nice to meet you” he countered and then said softly “thank you for saving my life Y/N”.
Then awkward silence filled the room.
She shyly looked up from her plate and broke the silence again saying “ Why were the police looking for you?”
“ That’s none of your business” he said harshly and glared at her with his Piercing eyes
“Well it’s now my business since I helped you, why the were the police chasing you?” She shouted back
“ I don’t give a fuck that you helped me, I can literally kill you right now” laughing as he spoke out.
“ You really have a rude temper you know that?” She glared
Gazing back at her slowly, he opened his mouth to speak.
“I know” he spoke softly as if she just tamed him.
He watched as she got back to eating, and he watched the way she ate her food and how her lips moved as she continued speaking..as if he couldn’t like her more than he already does, everything she does changes him and makes him weaker than he currently is.
She was a girl full of sassiness and confidence but was also very kind and warm hearted and he couldn’t help but fall hard.
Was it wrong?
He got up as her gaze came up to meet his face,
He then leaned in over the small table and pecked her lips with his.
SMACK!
Out of shock her hand landed in his beautiful bruised face and he groaned out in pain “fuck, I deserved that” as he leaned back in his chair.
“ yes you deserved that!” She shouted back and he rose from his seat, rounded the table and approached her, grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the lips , flames rose up Y/N face and she shoved him backwards and slapped him hard again “ the fuck is wrong with you” she screamed. Taehyung held his face and smirked saying “ thank you for saving me princess”, he turned, put on his blazer then left, Y/N still shocked from what just happen lifted her hands to her lips and touched her lips softly with her fingers as she heard the door closed.
That was the first and last time last time they both saw each other.
The King just met his queen.
Tags: @sugarplummies
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tiny-maus-boots · 3 years
Text
Queen of Hearts pt 14
A/N: thank you as always to @chloes-yellow-cup for being my bestie and still doing all the things i hate to do. and a big thanks to @kimmania for your constant encouragement and supply of Legos. i love you awesome nerds. 
14.
“Hit me with your best shot…”
Aubrey’s long arm stretched out along the back of the dark leather of the modern style sofa she was settled on. For the most part she could tune out the dry croak from the desk, but…
“Why don’t you hit me with your best shot.”
This was the sixth time in an hour that she was hearing the song. She was going to have to remind Lilly to remove it from the jukebox after tonight.
“Hit me with your best shot…”
The rough warble across from her died down and she thought for a moment that the singer had finally drifted off asleep. Aubrey’s head turned to the screen that showed a live feed of the cameras around The Dirty Bird. Movement flickered though them as Stacie and the Doc walked between the tables and around the bar toward the back office. She turned her head to check on the figure standing but slumped over her desk only to find dark blue eyes watching and waiting for her attention. The small woman raised herself to her elbows from her slouch and belted out just as the door opened.
“FIRE AWAAAAYYYYY!!! Pew pew pew.”
Aubrey sighed as Detective Mitchell’s finger guns gave out on the click of her tongue and she collapsed back over the desk to cradle a half empty bottle of grappa, ass up where she stood. Stacie’s wide eyes panned slowly toward her, body bouncing lightly with barely restrained glee.
“Oh my God….” Chloe took one look at the Detective and pinned Aubrey with a glare. “How drunk is she?”
The blonde raised a shoulder as she considered. “She’s been worse.”
“Doc. Doooooocccc….I hurt. Right. Here.” Beca raised a hand and brought it back to point at her butt. Her finger wavered as she tried to locate the exact spot which caused the most pain and then pointed for emphasis with a little too much enthusiasm. “Right. OW. Here. OWIE.”
Stacie eased onto the sofa and settled in comfortably in Aubrey’s lap to watch Doc Beale work. The redhead moved behind Beca and settled her bag on the desk. She took a great steadying breath before wrestling away the grappa from the prone detective and snapping on a pair of gloves. Aubrey admired the way Doc Beale efficiently and deftly managed to get Beca’s jeans over her hips and halfway down her legs with practiced ease. Beca seemed to admire it too because she stirred enough to look blearily over her shoulder with a smile.
“If you wanted to check out my assetsssss Doc, you didn’t have to wait til I got stabbeded in it. Right. There. Ow.”
“Yes, I see. Please stop poking the wound in your ass cheek. How even….?”
“I was tailing my guy. My big fish. Fishy fishy fishy. That’s a fun word to say.” Chloe muttered something Aubrey couldn’t hear over Stacie’s soft chuckling. “I heard that! Plenty of people would be DE-FUCKING-lighted to spend their date night starin’ at a little of this action.”
Aubrey bit her lip to keep the laugh from breaking free as the detective wiggled her ass unmindful of the tight skinny jeans trapping her legs and toppled into a slide nearly off the desk before Chloe managed to grab and right her teetering form.
“Head down, ass up. Now tell me again how you managed to get stabbed in the butt cheek with glass?”
“You said that like you’re used to giving that order. I might be down for that, just be gentle with me.”
Beca gave her a leer that the doctor promptly ignored as she prepped her tools.
“Detective, remember that I have some very sharp instruments here that I am excellent with.”
Beca gave her a dubious look but obediently turned and bent over the desk again so the other woman could examine the wound. Chloe was utterly focused on the task of cleaning and debriding the punctures in a circular pattern. Aubrey had been sure it was going to require at least a few stitches from what she saw before she called for real medical help.
“I told you. I was following the big fish.”
“And you followed him into a bar I’m guessing.”
“Right, rule numero dos of detectivering. Don’t stick out like a sore thumb.”
Chloe blinked and looked up from her work to focus on Beca. “What’s numero uno?”
“That’s not a real number, Doc.”
“Solid rebuttal.”
“Did…did you just make pun of my rump? Oh my God I’m in love. I’d get down on one knee right now and propose. Except you’re feeling up my butt right now and that’s kinda nice.”
The doctor’s bright blue eyes narrowed and she jabbed the needle into the hunk of flesh she had just grabbed in preparation for the injection. She depressed the plunger quickly as her patient yelped and attempted to squirm away.
“HEATHEN! Oh God. I’m dying. Help. I’m dying, Dr. Kevorkian is killing me….my vision…I can’t see.”
“Open your eyes, idiot. That was just an antibiotic booster. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”
“Pretend I said whatever answer will prevent you from being a literal pain in my ass.”
It was too much for Stacie and she turned her head to bury her laughter in Aubrey’s neck. The blonde tightened her grip on her fiancée and enjoyed a satisfying laugh at the detective’s expense. She hadn’t known what she’d find when she had gotten Beca’s distress call. They had all been on high alert since coming back to Los Angeles, trying to close ranks as best they could without being obvious about it. She had been waiting for an attack to come and her first thought when she had gotten the call was that it had finally begun. Each moment waiting in her office while Lilly retrieved the Detective from her hiding place in an abandoned warehouse building down at the port had been like a stone on her chest. She had needed this humor to ease the cold grip of fear on her heart.
Aubrey’s line of business didn’t lend itself to close relationships with members of law enforcement, at least not for long. What she and the Detective had was something altogether different than any of the other criminal-cop business agreements she had formed during her career. Beca was someone she trusted at her side, more…trusted at her back. The idea that someone would try to take her out was sobering and her laughter faded. Stacie sensed the change in her and cupped Aubrey’s face gently to bring their foreheads together. Words weren’t necessary for Stacie to understand what she was thinking and feeling. The blonde took a deep breath and straightened her spine. One hand came up to adjust and smooth her tie. If it had started…she wanted to know who was coming for her people.
“So, who’s the fish?”
Beca lifted her head from the desk and struggled to focus on Aubrey. It took her a few seconds to process the question. She seemed to have forgotten the conversation while Chloe worked silently to finish working on her wound.
“A security guard. He’s got bad taste in bars and also what I would loosely refer to as ladies.”
She couldn’t imagine where a security guard would fit in with Alice’s plans and frowned. Maybe this wasn’t about her. Beca had other cases she was working, maybe this was just another Tuesday night for the cop.
“A security guard? Sounds kind of small time for you.”
Denim blue eyes flashed to hers, some of the haze of alcohol burned away by intensity of her drive. The small brunette’s lips quirked into a smirk. Aubrey was suddenly very sure that nothing Beca did was small time or without a very good reason.
“It only takes a small stone in the right place to make a rockslide.”
Chloe slowed her movements as she finished her work. Something about what Beca said must have been interesting to the doctor because she kept her attention on the detective while she cleaned up the trash and peeled her gloves off to toss in the black plastic trash bag left there for that purpose. Aubrey guessed she was re-evaluating her previous estimations of the foul mouthed, perpetually smug, woman.
“You’re not wrong, Bec. So, what’s this small stone guarding?”
“Not what. Where. Dude works at the port.” She grunted and stood gingerly with a backward glance at her own butt. “Hm. Nice, think chicks will dig the scar?”
If Chloe had been considering there may be more to Beca than outrageous flirtation it was only a brief passing fantasy. She sighed and rolled her eyes then glared at Aubrey.
“18, Aubrey.” It was almost enough to make her face split into a grin and she had to turn her chuckle into a soft cough. Chloe tied up the bag and dropped it in the trashcan sure that it would be disposed of carefully. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to patch one of them up, they knew the drill by now. “You owe me so big.”
“I’m good for it. So, Detective, what about this dock rat?”
Beca stopped checking herself out long enough to pull her pants up and wink at Chloe before answering. Doc pretended not to notice but Aubrey could see her watching Beca from the corner of her eye while she played around with the tools in her bag.
“When I figure how he connects to Richie Rich, I’ll let you know.”
Stacie’s body tensed in her arms and Aubrey glanced at her curiously. Her girl chewed her lower lip in thought, a habit that Aubrey found adorable. “Something on your mind, Stace?”
“It’s probably nothing. Just something Edith said about someone I went to prom with. His dad got him a job down at the docks.” Stacie shrugged it off but Aubrey could tell she was still chewing on it. “Probably just coincidence.”
Aubrey and Beca exchanged a look. After a lifetime of double crosses and plot twists, neither of them believed in coincidences. The detective dug around in her pocket for her phone. She wasn’t quite sober yet but a hell of a lot steadier than a few moments ago. Aubrey snatched the phone easily out of the air when it was tossed her way and glanced at the screen.
It was a video and she angled it so Stacie could see too. Her fiancée pressed play and sighed. Beca could be heard in the background giving a lot of very specific direction to the two women practically fucking on a pool table in a disgusting looking rathole of a bar. Aubrey was pretty sure the women were hookers and the corner of her mouth quirked in amusement. Stacie took the phone out of her hand turned it to face back to the detective.
“Really Beca?”
“I thought it was pretty good for my directorial debut. But your gutter brain is making you miss the real show.”
Aubrey took the phone back and focused on the whole scene. Behind the women in a shadowed booth two men were clearly having an animated discussion. One was further into the shadow than the other but his gestures were strong and decisive. She watched as the other, younger seeming, man’s gestures became conciliatory and submissive the longer the conversation went on. In the foreground a flurry of noise and activity caused the camera to shake and wildly as if it were being swung around. There were glimpses of rough faces and snatches of shouts and curses. At one point there was a good stretch of scuffed flooring where she assumed Beca had been crawling away from the obvious brawl happening around her.
The camera came up again in time to catch the men leaving their booth in a hurry. Each of them caught in the neon blue glow from beer signs on the walls. Stacie snatched the phone out of her hand and hit pause. Long legs dropped down to the floor from the sofa and she stood in shock.
“Bree…this is Senator Grant. The guy he’s with is his son Kodie, we went to high school...Jesus Christ…”
“You know him?”
“Weston stole his money.”
They looked at each other then turned twin green-eyed gazes on Detective Mitchell. The small woman’s brow was furrowed in thought, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she worried it.
“The kid is on the videos.”
Mitchell didn’t have to say which videos, they all knew. Even Doc Beale. Stacie looked away from them, uncomfortable with the knowledge that she had been in some of those videos. Aubrey let out a long settling breath and stood. She gently took the phone from Stacie’s shaking hand and brought it to lips to brush a soft kiss over Stacie’s wrist. It gave her a wan smile but it was something. Stacie would be okay. Aubrey looked down at the phone and watched the video again. And again. And once more. She studied every gesture, every twitch of posture, every unconscious expression she could make out.
“I want the kid. He’s the weak link.”
Beca grunted and limped around the desk to grab her keys and helmet, ready to go back to work with a hole in her ass nearly as big as the one in her pants. It wasn’t going to happen that way and Aubrey reached out to snag both items from the sidebar and hand them to Stacie who easily placed them on a shelf far too high for Detective Mitchell to reach without finding a stand on.
“White she devil.”
“Sorry, Bec. Can’t have you half-assing anything.”
She didn’t like it and Aubrey could tell but Beca sighed and grunted. “Solid burn.”
Aubrey gave her a quick grin then turned to eye the Doctor who was watching them all curiously. Her gaze met Aubrey’s and a brow went up. Honestly, she almost felt a little bad about needing to have the Doc take Beca somewhere safe. She didn’t ask, she didn’t need to. Chloe knew what she was thinking and started to shake her head no until Beca tried to drag a chair over to the get her stuff.
“I really hate you, Aubrey Posen.”
“No, you don’t, Doc.”
“You WILL be making a very large donation to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.”
“Absolutely.”
“And vacation for my office girls. Two weeks!”
“I’ll buy the plane tickets myself.”
“And if she pisses me off just once I will trank her and leave her on a park bench.”
The last was a bluff but Aubrey treated the threat seriously. “Understood. Anything else?”
“….I’ll think of something!” Aubrey bit back another grin and nodded seriously. She slipped her hands into her pockets as the doctor steeled herself mentally to take on Beca. “Come one Detective, as much as this pains me to say…you’re coming home with me.”
Beca dropped the helmet she had finally just retrieved on the ground and left it like discarded trash to limp over to Chloe. “Okay.”
“God…you’re so easy.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Doc.”
Chloe gave her a final glare and slung the detective’s arms over her shoulder to help her limp out of the office. Stacie settled the length of her body along Aubrey’s back, hands coming up to finger the buttons of her vest.
“How well do you know this Kodie, joker?”
Stacie hmmm thoughtfully. “Not as well as I did in high school. Edith told me he got caught up in some trouble recently. I think I know how we can get to him though.”
“How?”
“He likes cocaine and paying for his um let’s call them dates. I had Happy make some calls for you.”
The smile came to her face easily and she leaned into Stacie’s embrace. This wasn’t anything like what her mom and dad had. Her mother had never been this involved in what her father did for work. She had kept as distant from it as she could, turning her nose up at the family that protected them, running from the darkness of the business. Stacie would never do that to her. She knew it all way down to the bottom of soul. Aubrey turned in her arms and brought their heads together.
“You got more cards up your sleeve than a Vegas croupier, you know that?”
“Hmm. I learned from the best.”
Aubrey closed the distance, her brushing softly over Stacie’s. There were a lot of words she could say about how she felt about the woman in her arms. She could probably write pages on it, but words didn’t matter half as much as action did. She was going to marry this woman and spend her life giving her the best of everything. They were going to be happy and she didn’t care who she had to kill to make it happen.
“Let me take you home?”
“Aubrey…in your arms? I’m already there.”
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pitviperofdoom · 3 years
Note
I really liked your 'Life Preserver' excerpt and I'd love to read more about it. I liked the interaction between Gerry and Georgie, their characterization and Gerry's description of his relationship with Jon, plus this exchange: “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”“You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”“Messy divorce, I take it,”“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.”
Thanks!
Yeah, Gerry and Georgie surprised me as a really interesting dynamic to explore. In spite of Georgie’s caution around the Entities, Gerry just feels like the kind of person Georgie would get along with, given the people she canonically ends up loving.
Anyway here’s another part I’ve written! This one actually has Jon and Gerry in it.
---
When Jon went in for his next shift, things went smoothly enough to be genuinely suspicious. Tina was his desk partner again, and she greeted him with the same cordiality as always. No one official-looking ever came by to speak with him.
The only hint that anything had happened that night was a campus-wide e-mail paying respects to Daniel Lattimer, one of the subject librarians, who was reported as having “passed unexpectedly”. The message held all of the usual official platitudes and nothing else; Jon had read it word for word several times to be sure.
Someone should have known, shouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if he had been careful about covering his tracks, beyond making his tip anonymous. The library had cameras. He was sure he’d left at least a few shoe prints in all the blood.
But nothing came of it. The first hour passed peacefully, with nothing more exciting than a couple of patrons he had to inform of overdue books.
Jon spotted the familiar dark figure out of the corner of his eye, even before Tina hissed a warning at him. He raised his head to watch Gerard Keay’s approach, chest suddenly tight with nervousness.
How on earth was he supposed to explain this?
“Hey.” Gerard was in front of him already, leaning his elbows on the desk as usual. “Any word on that book? I tried to come in yesterday, but you were closed.”
“R-right.” Jon hesitated. There were several ways he could answer this. He could, of course, be utterly truthful and tell him that he’d burned the thing on account of it being made of meat and killing one of the librarians. He almost laughed at the thought. At worst, Gerard would complain to someone about Jon being unhelpful; at best, he’d find it funny, but he’d demand a real answer once he was done laughing about it.
He could lie and stall by saying that the book was still on its way. But that was a temporary fix at best, and it would only lead Gerard to keep coming in and asking.
And would that really be so bad? Jon shook his head to clear away the thought.
“Right,” he said again. “A-about that. Unfortunately—” He slipped his bandaged hand behind the desk, out of sight. “—we were unable to find the book in storage. It seems to have been marked incorrectly. It happens sometimes. Though not very often, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But it’s been marked down as missing, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.” Gerard’s face was the very picture of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Really did need that one.”
“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” Jon tried to sound like he meant it.
It was hard to force down the sheer, overwhelming relief. Just last night he’d regretted his own paranoia, but now? If he hadn’t gone back, if he hadn’t checked for the book…
Well, the library might not have been closed yesterday. And he didn’t have the first shift at the circulation desk. And whoever did might have been someone who didn’t know, someone who wasn’t haunted by the name Jurgen Leitner, who might have taken the book from the cart and handed it straight over—
The unwelcome memory of Mr. Lattimer’s body rose up behind his eyes, juxtaposed over the young man standing before him.
As a child, he’d doomed someone else to a gruesome death that should have been his. So maybe this time… maybe he’d actually…
“Well then,” said Gerard, shaking him out of his bubble of thoughts. “Guess that’s—er, guess I’ll look elsewhere…”
“Right,” said Jon. “Unless there was anything else you needed…?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.
“No, thanks, that’s it,” said Gerard, already turning away. “Thanks for all the help.”
“Oh, I hardly—I mean, I didn’t really do much, in the end.”
Gerard regarded him for a moment, head tilted to one side with a thoughtful look. Then, quite without warning, he smiled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You were great.”
“O-of course,” Jon stammered as Gerard turned to leave again. “Oh, wait—wait a moment.”
Gerard looked back. “Yeah?”
Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the lighter. “Is this yours?” he asked, placing it on the desk. “I found it on one of the tables in the reading room, and I remembered you had it the other day…”
Instead of taking it, Gerard simply flashed him one last grin. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got loads.”
“It’s really not good to keep ignition sources in a library,” Jon protested, feeling inordinately flustered.
Gerard laughed, a brief, bright thing, and—
“D’you want to get coffee?” Jon blurted out.
The smile froze on Gerard’s face, before giving way to surprise. “What?”
A stab of terror nearly robbed Jon of his words, before he found his voice again and forged ahead. “Do you—I mean. Do you want to get coffee sometime?” he repeated. Shit. Shit, he was doing this, how was he already doing this? “With me?” He wanted to kick himself, of course he’d know he meant it that way. “I—my shift ends at noon today. If you’re free. I-if you want to, I mean.”
Gerard blinked at him, so utterly bewildered that it might have been funny if Jon’s heart weren’t currently climbing into his throat. “You—wait. Is this… are you asking me on a date?”
He said it so incredulously, as if the idea that Jon would ask him on a date were utterly incomprehensible to him. Rapidly, Jon’s heart sank back down.
“Yes,” Tina leapt in helpfully. “He is. Aren’t you, Jon?”
She nudged him none too gently. “Y-yes,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he could dig himself any deeper. “That—that was the intention.”
“Huh.” Gerard shrugged. “Sure.”
The whiplash made Jon dizzy for a moment. “Really?”
“Yeah. Noon, right? See you then.” With that, he turned and walked out of the library.
Once he was out of sight, Jon slumped over onto the surface of the desk like a marionette with its strings cut.
Tina patted his back. “Proud of you. Go get that goth D.”
***
It wasn’t that Gerry didn’t know it was a terrible idea—just that he’d had worse ones before. He was still breathing after years of them, in fact. So what was one more?
Jon the librarian was far from the first scarred survivor he’d ever met. They weren’t common, precisely, but nor were they unheard of. Technically he was one, and Mum had been as well, before she carved herself up.
But Gerry knew he was an outlier, and as rare as surviving one brush with the Fears was, meeting two of the things and escaping uneaten from both was on a level of its own. But against all odds, when he looked at the wispy little librarian who’d spent the past week being so divertingly helpful, Gerry could see two separate, distinct marks on him, where there had previously been only one. And they really were distinct from one another. The Flesh was like a shark sometimes, content to take one good bite before losing interest and wandering off, while the wisps of the Web still clung jealously. A scar like that could have been left years ago or the day before they met. You could never tell with the Web.
That added to the risk, of course. For all he knew, this was some ploy from the Mother of Puppets to catch him and draw him in. A little cliche, maybe, but Gerry couldn’t fault it for its efficacy.
He’d said yes, after all.
In his defense, it wasn’t every day he met someone with a nice face, a taste for burning Leitners, and enough luck or fortitude to walk away from two different Powers. Nor was it every day a person like that asked him to… well…
People didn’t flirt with him, was the thing. Anyone who knew enough to be worth talking to either wised up and ran the other way, or turned around and tried to take a chunk out of him.
So, yeah. Might as well give it a shot. See what it was like, while he had the chance.
He had til noon to brace himself, anyway. Not enough time to go back to Mum’s and freshen up, which was a shame. She’d just faded out a couple of days ago, so he knew he’d have the place to himself.
Ah, well.
In spite of himself, Gerry found himself turning his face upward with a grin and an excited spring in his step. It’d be a bit like traveling abroad, or visiting tourist traps, or all the other things he indulged in when Mum was gone. See as much of the world beyond his own as he could, before she finally fucked up and got him killed.
A date! Who’d have thought he’d get to check that one off the bucket list?
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sergaku · 3 years
Text
You Were My Nightmare
This is my @mlsecretsanta gift to you @galahadwilder. This is a sort of idea I have had for a while that I haven't seen before be done with other fics. It's a concept that I wish was in the show, but know its not gonna happen. Thanks to @gryffindorcls for the feedback. Was very nervous about this story til she read it.
The only thing Marinette could see was darkness. It was a cold darkness that sent a terrible shiver through her body. She took a step forward, letting out a surprised yelp as the darkness was replaced with a blinding light.
When everything returned to normal she noticed where she stood. She was still in Paris, but not a Paris she was familiar with. She stood atop a skyscraper, it being surrounded by a hazey blue. When moving toward the edge she noticed the blue was water. Everything was flooded, and when she looked to the sky the moon was destroyed, and silence was the only noise she could hear. 
"Marinette…." A voice with venom in its tone came from behind her. 
She turned around quickly to find Chat Noir standing there, eyes closed as if in a daze. She rushed towards him, only to stop when he opened his eyes. They were an icy blue and showed none of the kindness that normally accompanied them.
"C-chat? What happened to you? To this place?" Marinette asked with a shakey tone.
"Our love did this to the world Marinette." 
He began walking towards her, the black of his costume slowly being turned white along with his hair. Marinette just watched in horror as she began backing away. She tried to speak, but no words were coming out her mouth. It was only when she fell on her rear and tried to crawl backwards did she find her voice.
"Plu...ple...please Chat! We….we can fix th-" The cold leather of Chat's left hand connecting to her throat interrupted her. 
He stared deep into her eyes, his smile twisting into something wicked. His right hand glowing with the power of destruction.
"You made me into a heartless creature Marinette. It's time I return the favor!" 
Chat Blanc yelled out a blood curdling scream as he thrusted his hand into Marinette's heart. The only thing Marinette could do was scream from the intense pain, and finally woke up.
_____________________
Marinette shot out of her bed, screaming loudly as she clutched her chest. When she got a moment to get her bearings she noticed her room, and the dark Paris night sky. She gazed down at her hand tightly grasping at her shirt and let go, letting out a sigh before hearing her door open. 
"Marinette, are you ok," her father shouted as his large figure burst into the room. 
He held a baseball bat in his hand, reaching up to touch her hand as a way to console/protect her. 
"I'm…...I'm fine dad. Just had another nightmare is all" She pat his hand gently and gave her the best smile she could muster. "You can go back to bed." 
Without another word from Tom, he left the room. Though he was hesitant to do so. 
Marinette got out of her bed, ascending the trap door to her balcony wearing a jacket to fight the chill of the night. She felt the cold sweat on her face trickle down from her forehead as she leaned against the railing.
"Why...why is this happening now?" Marinette asked herself as she clenched her fists. "I thought I was over this….over feeling this way…."
"You can't exactly erase an event like that from your mind Marinette." Tikki chimed in as the Kwami sat on the girl's hand. "Chat Blanc was the most dangerous enemy you had ever fought. More than Hawk Moth."
"Yes, but this was months ago Tikki. I was able to talk with Master Fu about it. He helped me get closure...more or less. But why now?" Marinette felt her legs start to give out, forcing her to retire to the floor and sit against the cool metal bars.
"Maybe...maybe because of New York?"
"What? Why would that cause Chat Blanc to attack my dreams again?"
"Well….he could have 'returned'. Chat Noir was so distraught from failing you that his emotional state was incredibly low. Low enough to a point where if he was Akumatized as his civilian self, he would have most likely been able to turn into him." 
"I….yeah. I had that same thought. But, I didn't want that in my head. But this time I have no one to talk to. Master Fu is gone and if I tell Chat about Blanc he might be upset with me." Marinette trailed off at the thought of Chat being mad at her. She kept stuff from him sure, it was part of the whole identity thing. But Blanc? He is a bigger secret than her identity. One wrong move could turn that altered future to reality.
"Then you have to tell him. You can't keep this to yourself anymore. Chat deserves to know now. And it's your job as Guardian that you do everything in your power to make sure nothing bad happens involving the Miraculous." 
Tikki looked at her partner, a sense of agitation growing inside her from this situation. Tikki had to endure this for a few days the last time this happened. Now, it's been over a week. And it needed to end before Marinette could do any hero work.
"But what will he think of me? Of himself? It's not just me I am worried about. What if Chat thinks he himself as too dangerous to be around anymore. I am not replacing him with anyone else. No matter what!" The sense of determination in her tone to not replace Chat was the prime example for the love she showed him.
"The only thing that you can do Marinette is trust him. Because you know you can." Tikki gave Marinette a small hug on her cheek before retreating back into the room.
Marinette looked up into the night sky, watching the full moon hover above the world.
_____________________
Adrien had noticed how tired Marinette had been lately. He attributed that to late night studying, but now he wasn't sure. The way she stumbled through classes, her slurred speaking, her odd flirtatious tone, all off it was off. It was cute at first to see another side of her. Now, it was very concerning.
As Adrien walked into the school he noticed Marinette leaning against her locker. She looked like someone smashed a pillow against her face. 
"Marinette? Is everything ok?" Adrien asked as he made his way over to her.
"Huh? Oh Adrien. Yeah I'm doing just fine you know. Just fine indeed." Marinette responded with a yawn tackled at the end. "Just...just haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately."
Adrien looked into her eyes, spotting a hint of deceit in them. He placed his hand on her shoulder, which caused the young fashion designer to look up at him with a hint of red on her cheeks. 
"Marinette, if something is going on I want you to know that you have people to talk to. Alya and Nino are always there to listen if you have a problem. And…" Adrien spoke softly as he spoke. He felt his face heat up when he thought of the next words to say. "Especially me. I am always an open ear for you." 
Marinette gave a small smile as she nodded at the boy. She pressed her head against his shoulder, causing Adrien's entire body to tense at the sudden contact. He felt his heart throb, not knowing what this sensation that was coursing through him. 
When he looked down at the girl he couldn't help the smile that plastered his face. 'Had this girl always been this cute.' He relaxed his body some and pat her shoulder gently. 
"Thanks for talking to me Adrien. I feel a little better. But….I still got some stuff to think about." She lifted her head up, her cheeks showing a small shade of pink.
"No problem Marinette. I am always glad to help you if I can." Adrien gave her a smile and a nod.
'Now I just need to confront another girl who looks exhausted.' Adrien thought as he made his way to class. Not noticing the Kwami in his breast pocket flying away.
_____________________
Tikki was sitting in Marinette's locker, bundled up with a small pillow and tiny cloth blanket. She was soon joined by her partner Plagg, taking note of the sleeping creature. 
"Alright Sugar Cube, I need to know what's going on with her. Why is your bug so….groggy." Plagg asked as he shook her awake.
Tikki stirred a bit as she opened her eyes. She sat up, stretching her tiny arms and letting out a yawn.
"I don't think I should tell you Plagg. Marinette doesn't even want to talk about it fully with me." She answered melancholy.
"Yeah, when have I ever cared about that. Her demeanor is going to affect the dynamic of their teamwork. If she isn't up to snuff then we need someone else." 
"...fine. I will tell you everything…."
As Tikki explained the situation Plagg slowly began to break his stoic look. His ear dropped as he sat down in the locker. 
"So you know as much as I do. I can only assume that Hawk Moth found out who Adrien is and manipulated him. Used Marinette to...to turn him." Tikki looked up at Plagg, waiting for his reaction to this information.
"Huh. I don't know why she is so worked up over this. It's no big deal." Plagg just shrugged and shook his head. 
"Plagg! How could you-"
"Because it's them."
Tikki tilted her head as she gave a confused look. "What? What do you mean?"
"She is planning on telling him tonight right?"
"Yeah?"
"If Adrien is half as smart as me, then he will come to the same conclusion I have." Plagg spoke with a smug look as he gave a toothy smile.
"What do you mean?"
"You will just have to trust me."
_____________________
Ladybug stood on a random rooftop, waiting patiently for her partner to arrive. Another quiet patrol, no Akuma to distract her from her thoughts. The entire time she kept wondering how she was going to tell Chat. Can she bring it up casually? Make it the focal point of a serious discussion? 
Ladybug let out a sigh as she rubbed the space between her eyes. She felt the twinge of a headache approach from thinking about this too long. Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a hand grasp her left shoulder followed by a voice. 
"Ladybug?"
On instinct she grabbed the hand with her right, side-stepping in the same direction whilst bringing her left hand in a chopping motion. She had no time to process who the person was before her hand connected to the person's throat, making them let out a gacking noise as they grabbed their throat and fell to their knees. It was then when she realised she just chopped her partner in the throat.
"OHMYGOSHCHATIMSOSORRY!"
She quickly dove to his side, patting his back gently as he let out a few coughs.
"It's….it's fine….*ack* should have ..announced myself." Chat's voice was raspy, doing his best to massage his neck to alleviate the pain. 
A few minutes passed and Chat was back to normal. Ladybug just looked at him as he explained his portion of patrol, not being able to focus on his words. When she looked at him she saw flashes of Blanc. His face twisting from his warm smile to that cold scowl. 
"Ladybug, something has been bothering you lately. I can see it on your face." 
These words broke her from her trance, and she shook her head and waved her hands in dismissal.
"Oh no no. I am fine Chat. Just got distracted." Ladybug clammed up, feeling her whole body stiffen as she stood in front of her partner.
She felt like a coward. She wanted to discuss this with him, but when she looked at him she couldn't. She couldn't bare to see the potential disappointment on his face. Her hands tangled together, rubbing her palms and jittering her fingers in a nervous fidget. 
"Ladybug, you can talk to me, you know that right? I am always here to listen to you." Chat gave her a big smile as he placed both hands on her shoulders. 
She only felt more tense at this. Her anxiety about the situation rising at a rapid pace. Her breathing became shallow as her world began to crumble.
"Nononono….I…..I'm…..I…."
Ladybug.
"No...I said no…..stop……" 
LADYBUG!
She looked up to see Blanc staring at her, his face getting close as his eyes narrowed. 
"I said NO!" 
She pushed his hands off her shoulders roughly, taking a step back as her fist connected with his jaw. She panted some as she saw her world return to normal, looking up to see Chat Noir standing a few feet back with his head turned. Her eyes went wide as she looked at her fist, feeling her fingers throb from the impact.
"Chat.." She took a step towards him, her voice shaky as she felt tears start to form in her eyes. 
Chat took a step back, his head moving to look down at the ground. "I'm sorry Ladybug. I didn't mean to overstep my bounds." 
"Chat no it's…" She took another step towards him.
"I can see that you don't want to talk. I will leave you be for the night." He took another step backwards. 
He turned around, grabbing his staff and extending it. Ladybug watched his movements and dashed toward him. Just as he jumped she grabbed his tail, bringing him back down as she fell on her stomach. He looked down at her as her face stared down at the floor.
"Don't leave...please….don't go." She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. 
Chat dropped his staff, rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her. She felt a sense of warmth in his arms, a safe and secure place. She returned the hug, closing her eyes to enjoy this small, peaceful moment.
During their embrace Ladybug explained everything that plagued her mind. The events that transpired from her experience from Blanc, the nightmares it gave her, and how they returned on their return trip to Paris.
Chat looked at her, taking every word in and not interrupting. When she finished she looked up at him, waiting and scared of his reaction.
"I don't see the big deal."
"What! Chat did you not hear anything I said?!"
"I did. And it sounds like that Ladybug and Chat Noir were together after he found out your identity. And I assume the other you knew his. So I don't see how any of what you said could be your fault."
"But….he said that it was our love. He knew who I was. How could it not be my fault? Him knowing my identity that means that he-"
"Was manipulated. Ladybug I love you. The girl under the mask is who I yearn for. I would never do anything to ever harm you. I would rather destroy myself than have to do you any harm. Even if I was controlled by Hawk Moth, he couldn't stop the feelings I have for you. You are much stronger in my heart.
"The only way he could try is if he knew who we were and used that against us. And we know he would. Hawk Moth is very devious like that." 
Chat Noir took a deep breath and grabbed both of her hands, kissing them gently and looking into her eyes. 
"Ladybug, never keep something like this from me. I may not be able to do much, but I can listen. I can be there for you." 
Ladybug looked down, a new set of tears falling down her face at these words. She hugged him tight, feeling a warmth spread through her body as she sobbed. This man, this man right here was someone she could trust entirely. She would be lost without him. And he deserved to know.
"Marinette. You can call me Marinette Dupain-Cheng."
Chat Noir froze as she hugged him and looked at her when she said her name. His arms snaked around her tight, letting out a hearty laugh as tears went down his face. 
"I am so glad that it's you Marinette. And I am glad to say my name is Adrien Agreste."
They broke their hug as they dropped their transformations. Both of them looked into each other's eyes with an overwhelming sense of joy. 
"Adrien….."
"I love you, Marinette."
"I...love you too, Adrien."
They moved towards each other, both of their eyes closed as their lips connected. It was better than any other kiss they had before. It was better because it was the first of many in this new relationship.
_____________________
Marinette stood back on that building, back to the scene. She turned around, spotting Chat Blanc standing there with a Cataclysm charged. He charged at her, yelling out to her. She just stood there and spread her arms, preparing for the worst. It never came.
Chat Blanc stood there, his hand inches from her and about to destroy her. He looked up at her, anger pouring out his eyes.
"Why aren't you scared!?"
"Because I have no reason to be Adrien."
She placed a hand on his cheek, giving him a warm smile and kissing his lips. Blanc's eyes went wide at this, but slowly closed them. His Cataclysm disappeared and stood tall infront of her. His costume slowly changed from white to black, and then his costume disappeared. Adrien was left there with her and the world returning to normal
_____________________
Tikki looked at Marinette, smiling in her sleep as she grasped the Chat Noir plushie tight against her chest. No screaming, no cold sweat. She was at peace. 
"Well, I guess you were right Plagg. I'm excited for the future."
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spiltscribbles · 3 years
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You're doing prompts! Yesss you have no idea how happy that makes me cause I love you're writing so so so much its so amazing soo yayyyyyy 🥳🥳 can I request prompt 32? Things you said I wouldn't understand. Maybe some wolfstar? I'm just a slut for your fics so I would probably die if you wrote this. Even if you don't that's fine I never wanna pressure you soo yeah love you 💕💕
~Notes: Gorgeous, this message is literally so fucking kind and I am absolutely SOBBING!!!! You are such a fucking gorgeous soul! And this means the galaxy! And I’m sorry! This screams angst, but I had a really really fucking awful day, so I just wanted to escape with some fluff :( But if you want me to redo I promise I will! Or you can send me another prompt and I’ll write angst! I adore you!!!
.-
A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars  »  Send Me A Prompt  » Things You Said That I Couldn’t Understand
.-
Sirius realizes on an ordinary Tuesday morning as he spills the chocolate chips into the batter of the first batch of flapjacks, that he and his husband of over a decade haven’t had a date night for three months.
Three! Ruddy! Months!
THat’s completely not on! especially considering that now that the twins have entered their terrible twos they’ve barely had any energy at all  to go beyond furtive hand jobs and messy kisses in almost just as long. Sirius misses his bloody husband damn it!
“Daddy?” Angelica asks with owlish eyes  from where she and her younger brother, Teddy, are standing on either side of him with their expectant  plates in hand. “You look peaky.”
“Like you’re gonna puke,” Teddy tacks on helpfully, his ordinarily tawny curls  turning a putrid shade of  green just to emphasize his point. And Sirius silently reminds himself to tell Tonks off for teaching his kid such rude gestures once she gets back from her honeymoon with that Muggle bird of hers.
“Oi, you guys are going to make your old man feel like he’s the Hogwarts squid if you keep on.” Sirius tells them with a soft tug on Angelica’s ponytail and a cluck of a tongue directed towards his son.
“You’re father’s probably still just getting use to the time difference after getting back from the states.”
Sirius straightens up— pulse spiking in that way it always has around Remus ever since they had first begun to go out as fifth years— and spots him padding into the kitchen, beautifully sleep rumpled and cradling a babbling Maeve in one arm, while her twin, Matthew, toddles along side them with a meaty thumb in his mouth. Though he immediately begins sprinting towards Sirius once realizing that he’s finally home from teaching those Americans the newly enhanced defense tactics that the British Aurors have been utilizing to successful degrees.
“THere’s my Matty,” he crows, lifting him up in the air and blowing a raspberry into his belly while the toddler squawks with glee.
“Daddy home! Daddy! Daddy!”
“And he brings with him enough noise to rival the frog choir,” Remus notes absently.
Sirius waggles his tongue over at him, heart stuttering when he watches the morning sun spilling through the wide partition and unspooling golden in Remus’s hair. “You need it, gorgeous, considering you couldn’t wake up to your own ruddy alarm.”
Remus smiles in that abashed way that’s always been more devious than most give him credit for, “It’s the seventh year Ravenclaws, I think they will actually end up giving me an aneurism with how much extra they write in the essays.”
“Alas, I’m too pretty to be a widow,” Sirius sighs, tossing Matthew up in the air once more and cradling him into  his arm before walking over to Remus and dipping down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”
“You could’ve woken me up you know,” Remus mumbles, shifting from foot to foot while sliding Maeve into her high chair. “The moon’s not til tomorrow night.”
Sirius ducks his head, scratching the back of it with appropriate diffidence. “I just didn’t want to disturb you, love.”
Remus doesn’t catch his eye as he begins to walk over to the counter and brings the other portions of the meal to the table, lips pinched and shoulders stiff. “I’m not a total invalid, Sirius. I could welcome my husband home after a week apart.”
“What’s that mean, Tad?” Teddy asks, oblivious to the undercurrent of hurt in his father’s tone and  energetic as always while scrambling into his own seat around the breakfast nook, wide eyes glowing with that easy mirth that Sirius is thankful every day his children can feel without any lingering ghosts. “A, erm— In—valvid."
“It means your Tad’s a bit brassed off at me, Ted.” Sirius answers for him, affecting a light hearted cadence. "And that I better get round to finishing up breakfast or else he’ll give me that stiff upper lip of his.”
Remus pins him with a glare from over his shoulder while Sirius sets Matthew into his own seat besides his sister, but his features are softened and Sirius knows that it means he’s close to being forgiven.
“Daddy can I have blueberries in mine,” Angelica asks as he returns to the oven.
“Course, jellybean,” Sirius answers, adopting the pet name that Hope had called her granddaughter ever since they had brought her back from the hospital eight years ago. Sirius loved it even more once finding out that it was actually a reference to some sort of Muggle treat that Remus use to eat by the handfuls as a lad.
“OmyChocomydadzee,” Ted yells towards them with a wedge of cheese in his mouth before sticking his fork into the plate of sliced fruit so to waggle it in front of a giggling Maeve.
“Sorry, son, I don’t understand trollish. Or is that some sort of highly advanced Metamorphmagus language that your Aunty Dora has been teaching you on the sly that we lowly, ordinary wizards couldn’t possibly understand?”
Teddy rolls his bright eyes with a huff, swallowing down pointedly before speaking again. “Only chocolate in mine, just like Tad!”
“Manners, Ted, remember please and thank yous.” Remus says, long suffering as he eases down into his own seat and sips from the mug of coffee that Sirius had already prepared for him. “Though yes, I’d like mine to be chocolate too, Sirius, if you’re taking orders.”
Sirius grins indulgently at them before peering down to his eldest. “Angie darling, what shall we do with their teeth once they fall out from all that sugar?”
Angelica laughs glowingly, and Sirius brushes back her chestnut bangs with a reverent hand.”The snow warlock outdoors could use it since he’s only got a carrot nose after Matty ate the chocolate frogs we were s’pose to  use for his smile.”
“Brilliant!”
.-
After they’ve all eaten, Teddy and Angelica race outside to await the Potters amidst shouts of “Shut your trap,” from a peeved off Teddy every time Angelica taunts him over his crush on Effie, and the twins dig into their toy chest in the living room while Sirius and Remus spell away the mess that always ensues after a meal with the Lupin-Blacks.
“Andromeda wants us to bring the Christmas pudding this year,” Remus idly tells Sirius while he enchants the dishes to begin washing themselves with a graceful flick of his wand. Remus ordinarily prefers cleaning them by hand, so Sirius has an inkling that the impending full moon has already  begun aching in his bones. Merlin’s saggy bollocks does he wish this new, experimental potion would just escape the bureaucracy of the Ministry so that the man who is his other half could at least have a small relief.
“Is that along with the wine and fresh cranberry sauce she’s asked for?” Sirius says, saddling up behind Remus, bending slightly so to nuzzle his nose along the hollow of his long neck.
“Mmm, she thought you might say that, and wanted to kindly remind you that she carried a set of twins for us when she was forty even though we promised that Ted would be the last sprog.”
“Pff, as if I’d let potter outdo us.”
“We definitely didn’t let that happen,” Remus snorts. “The twins and Pip will surely be the next generation Marauders, God save Minerva.”
“Exactly!” Sirius sneers, locking his arms around Remus’s torso. “Besides ’s not like it’s our fault Meda’s bloody eggs decided on a two for one deal.”
Remus stifles a laugh, leaning back into the embrace and setting his hand over Sirius’s where he’s begun thumbing small circles against his abdomen. “Yes, well if you’d like to have that argument with her?”
“Oh, she’s full of it. I know that the twins are her favorites, spoils them rotten I tell you Moons.”
“Well it’s hard not to with such cute faces,” Remus says, turning his head slightly so to peer over at the pair of them through the doorway. Maeve is munching on the leg of her barbie and Matthew is clashing together pieces of two completely contradictory puzzles. Sirius swears that his chest might implode with the love he feels for his chaotic, little family.
“Course they’re cute, Moons,” he says loftily instead of the incredibly sappy emotions that are flooding his insides. “They’re are kids, cute is in the genes.”
“Cocky bastard,” Remus snorts before turning around in his arms and kissing him full on the mouth. And yes, the sight of Remus curled around the latest essay he’s meant to be marking up with the baby monitor for the twins’s room clutched in his left fist, was an absolute heavenly sight, but Sirius thinks this more hands on approach is a much more appropriate welcome after dealing with an ocean between them and six nights apart.
“Mmm, does this mean I’m not in the dog house anymore?” Sirius asks hopefully, trailing a path of kisses along Remus’s jawline and stopping at the hinge where it meets his neck so to suck only slightly, reveling in the beautifully familiar taste of his husband.
“You were never in the dog house you daft mutt,” Remus reproves in a voice that could’ve been caustic if it weren’t for his words going breathy half way through and his hands clutching tightly onto Sirius’s shoulders. “’S just— Just… Nothing.”
Sirius feels his stomach twist, pulling off of him with a scowl set on his face, and refusing for Remus to just brush this aside, the way he’s always want to do instead of talking about anything that actually might be hurting him. Like he’s afraid that his sodding feelings are somehow a burden, the self-possessed bastard.
“Tell me,” he intones, brooking no arguments while he gently takes Remus’s face in hand so he can’t look away.
His gorgeous features twist up, indignant and mulish, but they relax almost just as quickly, a defense tactic that’s melt away almost completely after so long of being intwined with one another in the most intimate of ways.
“Sirius, there was a time that you could hardly keep your hands off of me after being away for less than half as long,” Remus tells him, voice wavering only slightly. “And I understand if it’s getting tiring having to parent around the moon’s schedule—“
“What the bloody fuck are you talking about,” Sirius really meant to listen to him all the way through, he did! But he can’t help just how furious he got at the sound of that absolutely ridiculous conclusion Remus has somehow conjured up in his impossible mind. Positively hates how this is still such a point of sensitivity Remus has when it regards to their relationship.
“Sirius—“
“Don’t be a completely idiotic arse, Lupin!” Sirius very nearly shouts, absolutely broiling. “You are the love of my life, and I wouldn’t change a single sodding thing about us! And I swear to Merlin or Morgana or whoever the fuck else, that if you begin speaking such rubbish again, I’ll have to lock you up in our bedroom, and show you just how intensely I mean that.”
Remus’s face has gone flushed throughout Sirius’s diatribe, and his hazel eyes twinkle with that adoring way of his that always makes Sirius’s heart lodge somewhere in his diaphragm. “Lupin-Black.”
“Pardon?”
“You called me Lupin, it’s Lupin-Black now, has been for quite a while.”
Sirius chuckles lowly, feeling his righteous anger  deflate as  he crowds Remus against the kitchen island and presses their foreheads together. “You done being a senseless sod then?”
Remus locks his hands around Sirius’s neck, kisses his cupids bow with a tender earnestness. “You still could’ve woken me up.”
“I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t be exhausted for tomorrow, love.” Sirius reiterates, kissing him with feeling before pulling apart once more. “Though if I’m being totally honest,  I would’ve liked it if you could’ve wanked me off in hello.”
“That’s all you would’ve wanted?” Remus asks smugly, the tip of his index finger tracing idl patterns  against Sirius’s neck.
“Mmm, don’t tease me, Moony.” Sirius tells him before sharing another snog. “I was just thinking earlier on that it’s been three ruddy months since I’ve had you to myself for the entire night.””
Remus’s smile brightens, “Oh yeah? You’ve missed that have you?” He bucks forwards, and Sirius can feel him pressed completely against his front.
“I think I might go mad very, very soon, Mssr Moony if we don’t correct this most awful of grievances.”
Remus laughs fondly, kissing the tip of his nose with a smile on his face. “Well I reckon that the twins are old enough to sleep through the night, and Grandma Lupin is always asking after them.”
Sirius brightens ten fold, “Really?”
“I’m sure the kids won’t mind spending an extended weekend on the Welsh coast.” Remus nods.
“Right, good. Yes! Let’s use that tellamabob thing.”
“But the kitchen’s still a mess.”
“Remus, please have mercy on me,” Sirius begs with his best pleading look until his husband finally relents in that worldweary way of his, even if it’s him who snatches Sirius’s wrist and drags him to that muggle contraption, an excited jittering to his grasp all the while.
Sirius is irrecoverably in love with such a bellend.
~*~
My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist
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mcyt-amber-tftsmp · 3 years
Text
𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭... 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟... {𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}
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Request?: HeartsYeallow
Character: Ranbob
Side Character(s): Basically the rest of The Lost City of Mizu cast
Story-type: Starts out platonic but it's mainly Angst and a bit of fluff Romance but not too much
Story Length: 3455 words
AU or Not: AU of sorts but Ranbob being in his enderwalk when he went full-murder on the fishermen
Time Period: Future basically
Plot Summary: It the incident where Ranbob killed the fisher men but Y/n tagged along while the four were mostly exploring Y/n actually got to know Ranbob a bit then when Y/n saw he killed Cletus I believe she came to be uh scared but still knows hes not doing it and such, anyway time skip when its just Isaac, Charles and Y/n are the only one left alive and Ranbob trapped them but Y/n rushed her self to Ranbob and snapped him out of his murderous mind— and saving the others and she told the two to go ahead and leave Mizu and she'll catch up with and she talked to him and comforted him in a way
Small Info: Ranbob has the enderstate where he does things he doesn't know he does like the murders- and he didn't open up with anybody til Y/n come and her friends came to mizu also Y/N is like Isaac's little sister who's younger by two years with Isaac being 22 years old and everything else
Keywords:
Y/N = Your Name
Trigger Warning:
- Burning To Death Twice - Slight Blood - Small Panic Attack - Repeated Words - Mentions Of Death
Normal Warning: Cringey as heck-
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Y/N's Point of View~
The only thing I could see outside while walking around the place was just water and the aquatic life going on with it's lives in water. Now people might be wondering, where the heck am I exactly? Well you see we are currently exploring an underwater city called the City of Mizu which happens to be the Underwater City of Beauty and they got the beauty part pretty much right!
Basically what happened is that my older brother, Isaac took me with his three friends to wherever they usually go until I found this book lying on the ground which talked about Mizu. So we basically decided to go over to explore the area and while doing so we met an enderman hybrid named Ranbob.
From what I know about him is that he's pretty socially awkward considering when he met us he was a bit nervous when he introduced himself and Cletus was practically making him uncomfortable by sniffing him or doing something which was annoying him. I would sometimes yell at Cletus to stop it saying that he's making him uncomfortable.
I mostly tagged along with Ranbob while Isaac, Cletus, Charles and Benji were exploring and walking around the place. I was able to get to know him a bit more which actually helped him talk to me freely without getting nervous or something.
He was actually a really nice guy even if he looked pretty intimidating and all. What I liked most was his heterochromatic eyes which on his right side was yellow and on the other it was purple. He was also pretty tall and handsome- okay moving on!
Yeah I may or may not have somehow fallen in love with him too. I don't know what it is but I guess I could say it was just us basically having a conversation together and getting to know each other so well and maybe it's his voice cause it's pretty calming and I like it. His voice is something I could fall asleep to if I wanted.
Right now we were just walking around in the library. My brother and his friends ran off somewhere looking through somethings while i was looking through names of books trying to see which one I could read and that was when a certain book caught my eye.
The cover of the book was black and it look slightly dusty like it hasn't ever been touched by anyone. I slowly took the book out of the shelf carefully so as to not accidentally make the other books drop from the shelf. I then dusted away the small dust particles as I looked at the book.
"The Enderstate?" I said in a small questioning and confused tone.
"I see you found this book." I heard a voice behind me which made me slightly jump as I looked to see it was Ranbob as I left out a huge sigh of relief.
"Oh it's just you and I did I guess? Do you know what's it about?" I asked as he stayed silent for a bit before he spoke.
"Well... How do I put this into words?" He said while looking pretty hesitant.
"The Enderstate or Enderwalk is similar to sleepwalking or dissociation, where endermen hybrids like me have little awareness of surroundings, and it may last for hours at a time. You could say that... we do things we don't intend on doing at times and we don't have control of ourselves in the process. You would have to knock or slap them back to reality... if it's possible." He said explaining as I listened though I did notice the slight nervousness in his voice which I shook off thinking it was nothing.
It was something pretty interesting to know considering I have never known about this. I eventually put the book back in its place as Ranbob continued with the tour. Later Isaac found small lever key which lead to a tree dome.
Isaac handed the key to Ranbob who led us down the hallway to a closed room. I saw Ranbob place the lever key in its place as he pulled it down as the door slowly opened to reveal a glass dome which consisted of a huge tree in the middle.
I stood awed as I looked at the tree. It was really beautiful. Isaac and his friends were just looking around the place as I stood in place but after a while I realized that Ranbob was nowhere near me. I didn't even know where and when he ran off.
I snapped back from my thoughts when I heard my brother yell as he pointed towards the tree saying that there is a chest on top of it. We were all trying to figure out on who would climb the tree to get the chest. We then decided that Cletus should go over to retrieve whatever was inside the chest.
As Cletus was about to go up, I heard Benji say something which made Cletus come back as they argued and Charles was trying to calm them down. I then heard Isaac say if I had seen Ranbob in which I shook my head since I had no clue where he was.
Then after a few minutes Cletus reached the semi-top of the tree saying he found the chest as he slowly opened it. Isaac asked what it said in their but then something caught my eye. I thought it was nothing but then I heard a voice which I recognized very well.
"People don't live after coming here. They die." I heard Ranbob said as he jumped down from God knows where as I noticed the fire on top of the tree.
"Is it on fire?!" I heard Isaac exclaim looking at the tree and looked at Cletus who was cornered at the edge of the tree.
Charles and Benji were telling Cletus to drop the book and to jump down but then I saw how Cletus was set on fire as Ranbob then pushed him back only for Cletus to fall to his death. I stood stunned and scared as I looked at Ranbob with fear but then I realized something.
What if he was in the enderstate? He wouldn't do this in general, right?! I had so many thoughts running through my mind but it was interrupted as Isaac grabbed my arm and ran out of the room. I was about to say something but he already pulled down the lever to trap Ranbob in the tree room.
Isaac read the book as he led us down to wherever we are supposed to go. After a few, we came to a room which had lava but there was something on top of the wall. Benji said that he would be the one to retrieve what was inside the chest as he jumped on the stone platforms as he slowly parkoured his way there.
I was too scared to look considering he was taking a huge risk parkouring over the platforms and if he accidentally missteps he will fall and burn in lava. I looked over at him to see he was doing fine and he was just two steps away from reaching the place.
But I may have spoken too soon cause I don't know what happened but Benji somehow tripped over the last step and fell towards the flowing hot lava. I saw Isaac running after him as he reached out a hand but it was too late. I choked back tears as I saw witnessed Benji burning to death. There was nothing we could do.
Then I saw Isaac give his books and other things he had to Charles saying that he was going to get to the top to retrieve the item in the chest. I widened my eyes. I couldn't lose him. He was the only family I had after our parents died.
"Isaac no! Please I can't lose you!" I said as Isaac gave me a hug.
"I will be okay just hold on for me okay. I promise." he said letting go as he took a deep breath and jumped onto the first platform.
I was shaking as he slowly parkoured over to the platforms. He looked pretty hesitant and scared knowing one wrong step and he will die. By the time I knew it he took the last step and reached the chest. I saw him take out something from the chest which looked like a lever key.
Isaac was saying that it was the final room key which could help us escape. Then he said that he was going to jump down from the slightly huge height as Charles said he would catch him. he took a deep breath as he jumped down and somewhat landed in Charles' arms as he fell backwards.
"Are you okay?" I asked as Isaac stood up only to slightly limp as I looked over at his foot to see that it was slightly bleeding.
"Not really but I will be fine. Are you alright Charles?" He asked looking over at the younger boy who nodded.
"Yeah just a little hurt in the head but overall okay." He said as he gave back Isaac's things as Isaac led us to the new room.
Isaac put the lever in it's place but stepped back a bit. I looked over to see he was looking really light headed as I helped him breathe as Charles helped. I could imagine that was very scary and the fact that we saw both our friends burn to death.
But I was still thinking if Ranbob was in his enderstate cause I don't think he would do something like this. Isaac told Charles to flip the switch but he then suddenly interrupted him form doing so as he said somethings.
"Okay I don't know what is in there but no matter what? We are gonna make it... For Cletus and Benji okay?" He said as Charles and I nodded.
Isaac then pulled down the lever as we entered the final room. The room was very unusual considering the amount of diamond armor was lined up on both sides of the walls along with diamond swords placed behind them.
The room was also decorated with green pillars and obsidian like walls. There were a few barrels and chests placed on the sides but they were all empty according to Isaac. Then he went over towards the white tiled steps which led to a glass window. I followed behind him to see what it was.
Behind the glass room was a marble statue of a man who wore armor and had a sword hung from the sides. The armor design was slightly hidden by the cape and he happened to wear a white mask. Charles then came up behind us to see what we were looking at.
"What the heck is that?!" He said as he looked at the statue.
"What is this...?" Isaac said looking at it.
"That is the weirdest thing I have ever seen..." Charles said.
"Looks like a cave." Isaac said as he looked over at a small opening from across the room which was definitely an exit.
I then heard small footsteps as I looked behind me to see Ranbob coming over with a netherite sword in his hands and he looked slightly dazed but I don't think anyone noticed that. I started to think this was something to do with the enderwalk state.
I looked over to see Isaac and Charles panicking like mad saying things about how he killed Cletus and all the other things that have happened recently. I seriously just stood and watched in shock.
"Everyone here had an idol that they worshipped. That's why the rooms were all themed like one of the idols from the past." He said stopping for a bit as Isaac spoke.
"Is yours Ranboo-" He was saying until he got interrupted.
"And mine was Dream!" He said I looked at him and then back at the window to look at the statue.
"Is that this man?" Isaac said coming towards the glass gesturing towards the statue as I noticed Ranbob coming towards us.
"Yes. Like I said nobody-" Ranbob responded in a monotone voice but was interrupted.
"Was Dream a good man?" Isaac asked slightly scared as he held onto my arm as Ranbob paused taking in his question.
"Yes yes he was a very good man..." He said as Isaac broke the glass as he stepped dragging me with him as he slowly let go but made sure I was near him.
"... Depending on what you think good is..." he said as Charles came in the room backing away from Ranbob who slowly came behind him.
"Nobody- nobody leaves here..." He said as I saw him coming slowly towards Charles.
"What do you mean nobody leaves here...?" he said as I saw Ranbob raising his sword and was about to strike Charles.
I couldn't let this happen so I broke into a sprint as I pushed Charles out of the way. I heard Isaac scream my name as I looked to see the sword about to hit me but I was quick enough to stop him as I grabbed him by the wrist with both my hands to stop him from hitting me but he was pushing back with a greater strength.
"Are you seriously asking for a death wish Y/N?! If so then that's what you will be getting." I heard Ranbob say as I felt my right arm burn in pain as I saw five claw marks as blood started to pool out from the freshly cut skin. I yelped in pain as tears welled up in my eyes but that didn't stop me.
"N-No... But I know the real Ranbob won't do this! Wake up! Just f***ing wake up Ranbob!" I yelled at him as tears streamed down my face as I made out the shocked expression on Ranbob's face.
I quickly kicked him on the knees with my foot as he lost his balance and that gave me the chance to punch him in the jaw as he fell to the ground slightly hitting his head first. I was at this point panting and breathing too hard. I thought I was going to die.
I looked over at Charles and Isaac who were shocked and confused. Then I looked at the sword as I kicked it out of sight. Then I heard a small groan as I looked over to see Ranbob slowly sitting up as he rubbed the side of his head with his right hand.
"W-what happened? Where-" He stopped himself as he had a look of realization as he noticed the netherite sword on the side and the fresh claw marks on front arm.
"D-did I-I... What did I do...?" He said looking pretty scared.
"What do you mean 'what did I do'?! You literally killed Cletus and nearly killed-" I heard Isaac yell as I stopped him.
"Isaac stop! He was enderwalking! He wasn't in control of himself and didn't know what he was doing!" I yelled back which made him stop as he in shock.
Then I heard heavy breathing beside me to see Ranbob looking down on his knees while his hands were over on the side of his head. He looked like he was having a panic attack and this made me worried.
"No no no no no no no. Not again not again not again. Please no I can't..." I heard him whisper repeatedly as he was in tears.
I looked over at Charles and Isaac who seemed to look at him in slight pity and worry. I knelt down to Ranbob's level as I put a gentle hand on his left hand hoping it would clam him down. I then looked at the two.
"Isaac? Take Charles with you and go ahead. I will catch up to you guys later." I said and I could tell Isaac was going to protest but Charles put a hand on Isaac's shoulder as he stopped and went over leaving both me and Ranbob alone in the room.
"Ranbob? Please look at me..." I said as he was still in tears as he slowly looked up but didn't make eye contact with me. He looked so broken that it made me want to cry.
"Ranbob calm down... it's alright." I said trying to reassure him but it seemed to make him upset.
"How is this okay Y/N?! I killed one of your brother's friend and the other died trying to help you guys get out and I nearly killed Isaac and Charles in here! I hurt you and nearly killed you!" He yelled out in frustration as he broke down in tears again.
I gave him a huge hug as he wasted no time to hug me back as he buried his head in my shoulder as i could feel it getting wet due to his tears. How long has this been happening? Was this the reason he was very nervous when he met us? He was scared that he would kill us.
"It's not your fault... You weren't in control of yourself..." I said as I could feel him lift his head as he looked at me.
"How can it not be my fault when I hurt and nearly killed the one girl I loved the most!?" He exclaimed as I looked at him shocked after hearing what he said.
He... loved me...? I didn't know what to say other than blush at his words. I looked at him to see his head down as he was scared to look at me thinking I was not going to return my feelings. I understood why he might be thinking this considering the things he has done. I hugged him back as he flinched at my sudden action.
"It's okay Ranbob... I love you too. It's okay." I said and I could tell he was in shock from my response not even expecting it.
He then slowly pushed me away form the hug as he made him face me and then he slowly leaned as he connected his lips with mine, kissing me. I slowly kissed back as I used my hands to slowly move away the tears from his face.
We gradually pulled away as he gently pressed his head against mine while I had my hand on the side of his head. I hated seeing anyone sad especially Ranbob. We sat in silence as we stayed in the same position.
"Please don't leave me..." I heard him choke out as I let out a small sigh.
"I promise i won't... I will always come back to you..." I said closing my eyes as we continued to stay the way we were.
"Things will get better for you Ranbob." I finished saying.
I prayed things would get better. I know they would!
I believe in him.
I love him so much for this.
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apiratewhopines · 3 years
Text
In the Offing
Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.
Chapter One - Pilot
Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure
“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
Til the road and sky align”
-Angela, The Lumineers
If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.
It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.
So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.
“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”
“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.
Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”
“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”
She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.
Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.
It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.
She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.
Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.
Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”
“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.
“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”
He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.
“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”
The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.
“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.
She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”
“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.
“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”
Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?
“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”
Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.
“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”
Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”
Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.
Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.
Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.
Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.
Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.
Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”
She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.
It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.
If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.
For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.
As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.
Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.
Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.
Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.
Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.
It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.
The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.
Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.
If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.
She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.
“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.
“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.
“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.
The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.
Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.
“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”
“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.
Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”
Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”
“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“
“What circumstances? How difficult?”
“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”
She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”
“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”
“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.
Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”
He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”
“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”
“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”
She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.
At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.
It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.
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dakarimainink · 3 years
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ICHOR
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Part 2 - POV Pedro
WARNING: 18+, alcohol, desire, sexual references, hint at human harm, slight angst (I guess?)
Pairing: mafia!Pedro x OFC
Wordcount: 4.1K
Note: Not betad all mistakes are my own. Alright, I've been continuously planning on this story and concluded it will be a slow burner. Stuff will take time with this series, but I might as well put a future warning for this series: it will contain a lot of 18+ stuff, like drugs, alcohol, violence, murder, blood, sex and so on and so forth. So bear with me as we build this thing up.
Also, I appreciate you guys, you're the best 💛
Part 1 | ... | Part 3 | Part 4
Masterlist
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He wasn’t interested in being there that night. He had other things to tend to, especially after the Water Lilly gang had tried to stop the import of exotic cigars and whiskey. They had almost succeeded hadn’t he instructed the drivers to arm themselves two weeks in advance.
There was a reason Pedro was on top, the fearless boss no one dared to touch. He was as good at reading his surroundings and the people within it as he was staying impeccably dressed - no one outmatched him on either. Rumours quickly spread that he could see into the future, which he found amusing, but were far from the truth, he simply had a rough childhood; always looking over his shoulder and seeing the devil in the details.
It was Mr. Ruiz – the capo for south-east side of the city – who suggested the club. Pedro barely remembered putting money into the place, but then again, he didn’t really care where it went, as long as it would turn to a profit, which it did. It was Ruiz who had asked for investment in the place, back when it was an empty waste of space and turned it completely around – the most lucrative club in the city.
Pedro was lost in thoughts, trying to figure out how to get back at the Water Lilly gang for their transgression. They knew to stay off those trucks, yet their greedy disgusting little hands had reached for his goods and taken out some fine men too. He wanted to hit them hard and as he swirled the liquor around his glass, contemplating if he was to just raid their base or just take out some men in return, the crowd begun to cheer and clap.
Mr. Ruiz, who had been babbling with too much alcohol in his blood and the one person Pedro wished had shut up during his occupied mind, rose to his feet applauding. Pedro lifted his head, dragging his eyes up from the golden content of his glass to see what had made the crowd go wild. It didn’t take long though, as a mysterious caped form had stepped onto the stage. It intrigued him as he placed his glass on the table, hand still wrapped around the crystal.
He let out a long exhale when the figure reached up and pulled off the hood over its head, revealing the face of an angel, at least that’s what he thought when his eyes snapped from her plump lips to her rich brown eyes. He had never seen such beauty before and this woman on stage with this almost sad face, had pulled him into something that felt foreign yet warm.
He breathed through parted lips as her eyes wandered across the room where she met his gaze. For the first time he felt vulnerable, even though he was probably the deadliest in the room. His grip loosened around his glass as she continued to hold her eyes. He didn’t even flinch as she pulled at the string of the cape and it flowed down, revealing the most sinful body to walk this earth.
His mind felt numb once she finally had looked away from him and begun her performance. He couldn’t help his eyes wandering her form, taking in each curve, dip and fold as she moved around. He tried hard to ignore the pressure he felt in his groin while watching her. It was the animalistic side of him trying to get out, but he supressed his urges to stay respectful of her performance. He knew her dancing and clothing were to provoke such impulses, he wasn’t ignorant, but his mother had taught him better; if you ever want to be a man, you treat every woman in your life with respect. He could still hear her voice echo the sentence in his head.
He let go of his glass and leaned forward in his seat, trying desperately to meet her eyes once more. He wanted to feel that foreign sensation again. When they finally met, his heart skipped a beat before slamming into his ribcage several times. The warmth spread across his chest as he dragged his fingers through his curly hair and held her gaze as she twisted and turned around on stage. He felt almost honoured that this woman would stay connected with him as she danced.
He didn’t take his eyes off her until she finished her performance and left the stage. As soon as she was gone, he felt empty and a slight chill went through his veins. He grabbed his glass and took a sip, letting the liquid burn down his throat to feel some warmth again.
Mr. Ruiz slumped down on the chair with a disgusting grin on his face. He had loosened his tie and taken off his jacket during the performance, which Pedro has missed entirely being pulled into her beautiful gaze. Ruiz downed his glass and let out a rumbly chuckle.
“What a piece of meat, huh boss?” He bumped his elbow a few times on Pedro’s arm.
His brows furrowed deeply as he turned to look at Ruiz with a deadly stare. “Piece of meat?” He echoed to him in a low growl.
Mr. Ruiz shrunk in his seat as he saw Pedro’s eyes turn darker by the second. “I-I mean…” A tremble went through his body as he lost all words in his vocabulary.
“Piece of meat…” Pedro turned his head away from Ruiz, feeling disgusted by his presence, and swirled his whiskey around in the glass. He let out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to grab the attention of one of his guards standing by. The guard walked up to him and bent down to head level with Pedro. “Take Mr. Ruiz home, let him sober up ‘til the next morning, then I want you and two more to remind Mr. Ruiz that women are not pieces of meat.” His voice was low as he spoke it into the guard’s ear. “And have Mr. Miller pick me up in fifteen.”
He rose to his feet, straightened his suit and picked up his coat. He turned to look down at Mr. Ruiz, who still sat small and shaking in his chair. Pedro gave him a reassuring smile, which didn’t help the trembling, but gave him hope that perhaps his boss was feeling forgiving for his choice of words. “I believe it’s best you get some rest, Mr. Ruiz. The alcohol has obviously gone to your head and you are in no state to have a civilised conversation with. I have asked this man to take you home.” Pedro gestured to the broad man standing behind him. “Sleep well, Mr. Ruiz.”
~
Pedro stood still in front of the wooden door with the words “changing room” on. The A and the second O were almost completely scraped off. He probably shouldn’t have been there, intruding upon her space right after a show, but he had to see her, to share just a moment alone with her.
He knocked softly on the wood three times, waiting to be invited in. His eyes widened at her sweet voice vibrating through the door, it sent a shiver down his spine. He pushed the door slowly open and found her standing in front of a mirror, brushing her hair.
“Good evening, miss. I hope I don’t disturb.”
He noticed her eyes widened at his manifestation, he didn’t know if it was out of surprise or fear, which he didn’t like, not knowing. She put her hairbrush down and turned to him, he watched her assess him, waiting for her to speak up, whether it was to reject his presence or let him stay.
“No, you’re not.” She sounded nervous, but he couldn’t help but see a hint of curiosity in her eyes as he held it.
He took a step in and closed the door behind him as to not be disturbed. He just hoped she wouldn’t feel trapped as he did so. He noticed the chair next to him and put down his coat on top before taking a step closer. He could smell her sweet floral perfume from where he stood. He inhaled slowly, trying not to make it apparent he was taking in her scent. It made his head almost swim and he swore he could stay there forever, inhaling her perfume and admire her beauty.
He lowered his head at her, mostly out of habit when he first meets someone. “My name is Pedro Pascal and this is my first time coming to this place. I must say your performance was captivating. The rumours about your dance were insignificant compared to actually seeing it.” He said truthfully, because it was indeed a delightful performance.
“Your words are too kind, mister Pascal.”
His ears perked up as she said his name. It had a pleasant tone to it, which made him faintly smile as he straightened up to look down at her.
“I must admit it is surprising to hear this is your first time here, I thought you owned the club.”
For a split second he wanted to furrow his brows, until he found her words somewhat humorous. “Yes, I suppose.” He smirked thoughtfully. She didn’t seem intimated by him after all, which made him lower his shoulders just a little. “But I am a busy man, I own a lot of businesses around town. I can assure you I have probably not been to half of them before.”
She chuckled at his remark and it made his heart flutter. So soft and innocent, he wanted to touch her, but knew if he did for too long, it might corrupt her.
“I hope I don’t intrude on your time off, miss?” Her name, he wanted her name. He wanted to see how she pronounced it, how she sounded and then he wanted to taste it on his own lips, like she had tasted his.
“Rose, Rose Miller.”
“Rose.” Her name was perfect. It matched her rosy cheeks, warm aura and that sweet floral perfume of hers. “That’s a beautiful name you have, Rose.” He had another taste of it and he loved it.
He took a step closer to her, not knowing why, but something drew him to her, but the atmosphere in the room immediately changed. He saw the sweetness in her eyes turn to fear and her smile that once painted her plump beautiful lips faded. He furrowed his brows, not knowing if he had stepped too close to her, if he had perhaps pushed his luck a bit too far.
“Is everything okay, Rose? You seem…” He noticed the warmth of her skin had faded and her once rosy cheeks were now – “Pale.”
She leaned back on the table behind her. “Oh, I am terribly sorry, mister Pascal, I am just…” Her eyes darted around his face in panic. “Drained from the performance.”
Lies. He wanted to confront her of it, that he knew her lips were not speaking the truth, but he also knew he had no right. He knew it had to do with him, but he was not going to push it. He knew she was aware of his position in this city, which could be intimidating enough in itself, but to share such a small space with him alone – she had strength within her to stay grounded on her feet, which only made him want to know her more.
He nodded, trying to cool down the slight disappointment and anger rushing through his veins from her lie. “Then, miss Rose, I wouldn’t want to occupy your time and keep you from getting home. But before I go.” He lifted his hand to pull out his personal card.
He pulled it out and noticed her flinch at his movement. His heart dropped at her reaction, but he didn’t blame her. “It’s just a paper card, miss Rose.” He tried to assure her there was nothing dangerous with it before handing it over. “I would like to invite you to do a more private performance at my place next Saturday. I know it is a working day for you here, but I have arranged for someone else to come instead. I will of course pay you should you choose to come.”
She took the card from his hand and he was disappointed that their fingers didn’t touch. He had to feel her, just a small graze would be enough.
“It is optional for you to come of course. If you choose not to perform, just take the day off. I will make sure you are paid none the less, so you don’t feel pressured.” It was important to him that she didn’t feel threatened to come, that this was entirely optional.
She glanced from him to the card, inspecting it and he waited patiently. Looking at her delicate fingers feel the card and flip it over. He breathed a little heavier watching her read his full name on the card, watching her lips slightly move as she recited it within her head.
He wanted to touch her so badly, to feel her skin and see if it was as soft as it looked. He had said everything he had to and now was the perfect time to say goodbye in the most old fashioned way, but a way he loved to part as it gave him the opportunity to not only show his respect for her, but also let him feel her. He reached out his hand with his palm up and watched the confusion spread across her face. He couldn’t help the amusement he felt when he saw her. “Your hand, miss Rose. If you please.”
With a trembling hand, she placed her hand in his and his heart was enveloped by pure warmth. She was soft, oh so soft, and delicate, like a little bird resting in the sun. He placed his thumb on top of her fingers to get a better grip on her and the shakes in her hand were gone. It delighted him to see it and he bent down, leading her hand to his lips and softly pressed them down at the back of her hand. He had to close his eyes as he revelled on the warmth he felt on his lips once he touched her. His head swam as her scent were stronger, seeping through his nostrils and playing with his senses. He could hear the silent gasp leave her mouth and he fought hard to not let a teasing smirk grow on his lips.
He straightened up and watched the warmth had returned to her cheeks and her shoulders were no longer tense. There was a smile playing with her lips and for a moment – just a very small moment – he imagined kissing them, but he quickly pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to let go of her, but knew if he held on, she might find it uncomfortable, and he regrettably let go. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rose.”
He turned around and picked up his coat. He reached for the door and looked over his shoulder with a faint smirk on his lips. “I truly hope to see you next Saturday. It would be an honour to have you as a guest at my house.” He bowed his head at her before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He begged within himself that she would show up.
~
Pedro sat still behind his mahogany desk, listening to his capos discuss their next move to broaden their reach outside the city. Although he heard every word that was said, his mind was occupied by a pair of dark brown eyes, rosy cheeks and floral smells. He saw her fluid movements on stage, tantalising him, luring him, begging him to seek her out. He could almost smell her perfume and for a moment he closed his eyes just to see her clearly in his head.
“What do you say boss?”
His eyes snapped open and they wandered across the men standing in the room with him. He must have missed the last part, but he was not going to admit it, mostly because this was a first for him. They expected him to listen, to understand and then either agree or disagree with them.
Pedro looked over at Federico – his right hand man – and rose an eyebrow at him. Taking the hint immediately, Federico stood up from his chair and stepped over to the side of the desk. Turning to speak to the other men in the room, he straightened his jacket and scanned the room, making sure everyone was listening.
“I believe the best option is to go straight through to them, instead of taking a detour. If we can own the road, no one can stop us. We’ll start furthest away and squeeze them closer to the city, entrapping them and forcing them to do as we say.” He begun to explain and the men in the room listened intently. “We don’t want any attention on this, so make sure to keep the body count to a minimum. If the Water Lilly gang finds out we’re eating up their territory, this might turn ugly pretty fast. Set up a date as soon as possible and claim it within a night.” Federico crossed his arms and puffed his chest out. “Now leave, this meeting is over. Any questions and you take them with me. Nothing is to be done until I say we’re ready.”
The men in the room, as if on cue, spoke in unison. “Inigualable, indiviso, inflexible.” They scrambled out of the room, leaving Pedro and Federico alone.
Pedro let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He was already exhausted from the meeting and he had barely said anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes shut, feeling a slight headache coming in.
The sound of liquid being poured made him open his eyes and look at Federico standing by the side table, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He sauntered over to the desk and placed one of the glasses in front of Pedro. “What’s occupying your mind?” He asked as he sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk.
He glanced at the golden liquid. “Wondering what to do with the Water Lilly gang for touching our goods.”
Federico snorted and Pedro snapped his eyes at him with a stern look. “Forgive me, Pedro, but I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not what’s occupying your mind. There’s something more personal.”
He tilted his head back, exhaled deeply and looked back at him with a softer expression. “Her name is Rose.” He said, not willing to give up too much, but knowing Federico, he would get just enough information to give some advice to clear his mind.
Federico leaned forward in his chair, interest peaking at his ears. “Rose, huh? It wouldn’t be the woman Mr. Ruiz made a comment about?”
“Perhaps.”
Federico couldn’t help but chuckle at his vagueness. “Figured as much, cerdito was a drunken mess.” Pedro narrowed his eyes at Federico. “Which of course doesn’t excuse his comment.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Although they had been friends and business partners for a long time, Pedro knew how to dominate anyone he interacted with, which sometimes made him nervous. “I heard he had a pretty bad fall down a flight of stairs the other day.”
“That’s what happens when you’re not careful.” Pedro hadn’t even given it a second thought when he first told the guard to take care of him. He supposed he was too occupied thinking of Rose, trying desperately to have a reason for her to come to him.
Federico took a sip from his drink. “I must say it was kind of you to let him live.”
“He might have overstepped, but there was no reason for me to have him killed. He is good at what he does, but he needs to control his alcohol intake.”
Federico rose an eyebrow at him. “To be a man relying a lot on import and export of alcohol, you sure are not a fan of it.”
Pedro reached forward and picked up the whiskey filled glass. He turned it around in his hand and looked at the content. “It’s not about the alcohol, Federico. It’s about the people consuming it. With the right amounts, it can be a party, but with too much, it can turn to a bloodshed.” He guided the glass to his lip and took a sip as he held Federico’s curious gaze. The liquid burned down his throat. “There’s a difference.” A smile played on his lips as he placed the glass down again.
Federico smirked back at him and took a gulp from his whiskey before setting the glass down on the desk. “Now, tell me about her.”
Pedro leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced and resting in his lap. His eyes wandered the ceiling, thinking back at her beauty. “Divine.” He murmured as he saw her face. The image trailed down her body and blood began to rush to his groin. “Sinful.” He sighed as her seductive curves played in his mind.
“That says a lot and nothing at the same time.” Federico chortled. “So, I assume that you spoke with her when you were at the bar?”
Pedro mentally slapped himself, reminding himself to not think this way of her, but it was hard – very hard. “Yes, I spoke with her after her performance. When I first entered the room alone with her, she seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary, but halfway through our conversation, everything shifted. She seemed uncomfortable.” The memory made him upset, he never wanted to make her tense.
“Hmm… what were you talking about then?”
He thought back at it. “She had just told me her name.”
“Full name?”
Pedro nodded, remembering the sting of fear in her eyes.
Federico hummed in amusement and leaned forward in his chair. “Pedro, put two and two together. She just handed her own identity to the most dangerous man in this city. I too would be nervous if I didn’t want to be on the radar of a man like you.”
Pedro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. As his words settled in, he rubbed his eyes in annoyance, more of the fact that he didn’t even think about it. He had never shown interest like this in a woman before. Yes, he was always polite to every woman he met, but Rose, she was someone he actually wanted to seek more time with.
“Yeah, you know what I am talking about. How did it go after that? Was it still uncomfortable?”
“It was.” He said, thinking back at him finally touching her. “Until I asked for her hand, she gave it to me and I kissed it, saying my farewell. When I looked up at her again, she seemed almost…”
“Smitten?”
“Yes.” He admitted, thinking back at her soft eyes and kind smile.
Federico chuckled and leaned back. “Well, with the charm you ooze, no wonder.”
“I invited her to my place next Saturday.”
His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he looked at Pedro. “And what did she say?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I just assured her there was no pressure for her to come.” He didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad sign that she hadn’t said anything to his offer. He was just glad he had managed to turn the tight atmosphere to something calmer.
Federico nodded as he reached for his drink and downed it all in one go. “Well, do as you want to Pedro.” He rose to his feet and looked down at him. “Just know that even though you’re as untouchable as a man can get, remember that the people around you are not.” He took the glass with him as he left Pedro’s office.
Pedro watched the door close behind Federico. He leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand over his face, feeling tired, annoyed and a sting of conflict within himself. He propped his elbow up on the arm rest and rubbed his temple, trying to soothe the lingering headache. He knew Federico was right, but the thought of having to not seek her out was numbing in his head. All he had thought about the past two days was her. It was dangerous, he knew, to let his mind slip so easily, but the pull he felt towards her was too much. It was like a craving he needed to satisfy.
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(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)
@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @ah-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44
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dancinbutterfly · 4 years
Text
King Shark/John Constantine Fic Thing (because no one else will fucking do it)
To be clear I am writing this in the Harley Quinn Animated Series Universe with the King Shark who acts and presents like this:
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But raws John Constantine with energy like this:
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(image created by @starcitysirens​)
Disclaimer: My knowledge of Constantine is fucking minimal, my knowledge of King Shark comes from a few comic panels, and the Harley Quinn Animated Series.  Ok! lets get wild monsterfuckers. (AO3 Link)
So John’s just finished a particularly unpleasant haunting in at a Sandals in Mau’i. Real son of a bitch groom who fell off the balcony of his 23rd story honeymoon suite raging at his bride when she decided she’d had enough of his shit, that her mother was right, and that she never should have married him in the first goddamn place with frustrated male rage so powerful it somehow managed to trap the entire staff and his newly-married-soon-to-be-ex-wife-now-widow in the building for what John imagined was a rather miserable long weekend.
But once that’s sorted, the hotel gives him a room in addition to his fee in exchange for never, ever telling anyone what happens and John figures fuck it. Might as well. It’s a beach vacation with a comped room. So, he dumps his kit and does the reasonable thing that anyone in his position would do: He goes to find a beach bar and get pissed.
But they’re all so commercial, the beach bars. He’s not really interested. All the drinks are full of umbrellas and all the patrons chatty tourists who to fucking talk. To him. Ugh. No, ta.
So he wanders a bit farther into town. And a bit further. And a bit further til he’s witnessed one of those notoriously beautiful Hawai’ian sunsets and more importantly, finds a place that’s seems suitably disreputable. It’s got no windows onto the street. It’ll do nicely.
And of course, he doesn’t even manage to order a single drink before he notices the bloody shark at the bar. Because how can he not? He’s a fucking shark.
He looks up at him, up and up and up, at the shark man, the man who is also a shark, and goes, “Well shite.”
And the shark looks at him and smiles, with all those great bloody teeth, gleeming and bright, razor sharp with not a cavity in sight, and says, “Oh, hello there. I’m King Shark.”
And then he holds out his hand to shake, courteous as you please. Better manners than John managed when he met the Queen. Either Queen. Any queen. He’s met a few queens. And several kings. He’s never managed that good an introduction and is bollocking this one right up as well. Shit fuck damn.
He takes the proffered hand and shakes it. “Hi.”
“I’m a shark,” King Shark says cheerfully.
“Aye, that you fucking are.”
“And you are?”
“John.” John manages to choke out, because he is still holding this bloody shark’s bloody hand and that has been going on far, far too long. He should let go. He should let go or stop staring or something. But he can’t. So he at least makes a better stab at introducing himself. “John Constantine.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” King says and he sounds so genuine, so sincere, that John can’t help but smile back.
“It’s nice to meet you too.” And he means it. Because it is nice. This bloke is nice. He’s in trouble because he likes nice blokes. Nice blokes are lovely. It’s a problem because he is, in point of fact, not a nice bloke which is why this fact has never, ever once, stopped him although it does make him let go of King Shark’s hand, finally, fuck.
And since they’re they get a drink. They get several drinks and they talk. Turns out King’s in town visiting his mum, which is just lovely, isn’t it? King asks if John would like to see a photo and of course John can’t say no and also he’s desperately curious so there’s an hour gone of a nice shark man showing him pictures of himself and his mum, a completely normal looking older woman who only comes up to his mid-torso who is smiling in almost every frame and talking about how she won’t stop using Facebook no matter how many times he explains datamining to her.
“You work in computers?”
“I do. And my team is great. Really flexible and my boss, she’s great. A real outside the box thinker. What do you do?”
“I’m...in Human Resources.” It is not technically a lie. Technically. He was resourceful with people just this afternoon. He’s resourceful with humans all the time actually, blood, bone, cremains. He’s very resourceful with humans on the regular. He laughs a little at the thought and King laughs too and it’s a nice laugh. He’s nice.
And somehow that turns into John pushing up on on his stool and kissing him right there in the bar. Carefully. Because those teeth are very sharp. But he’s doing it, he’s kissing this very nice, very friendly, very warm for a fish person shark man. Fuck, he doesn’t know. He’s been drinking. He’s had two entire shitty American beers. It’s a mad house and King puts his strange fin-fingers on his face and kisses him back.
Careful. He’s so careful. Nobody’s ever careful with John but King is and he likes it. He likes him a bloody lot. Also, he watched a documentary on sharks once.
“Do you want to-” he gasps, when things start to get frantic and one of those teeth nick his tongue.
“I do. I really do,” King says, and his nose, wait, is it a nose, shark facial anatomy is not the thing he focused on in that documentary, but he’s a man to so John supposes it is his nose, whatever, it nuzzles his cheek and it’s a bit rough but the gesture is so soft. It’s gentle and it makes John feel weak. “But I’m here visiting my mom,” King says and he sounds really put out about it.
“You said. But I’m not visiting anyone.”
“Oh.” King grins, and it’s absolutely feral. “Well then that’s a different story.”
“So-”
“Yeah.”
“Brilliant. I’ll get the tab, you find us a ride, alright love?”
It’s not easy or cheap to find a cab that will take a shark man back to the hotel but it’s worth it. Oh oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, it’s worth it. When he’s on his stomach, begging, crying, getting exactly what he wants, what he needs, what he didn’t even know existed it’s worth it. When King makes every thought in his his brain sizzle up with the pleasure so tight, so full it’s worth it.
He didn’t come here for this but now he has it. He has thick arms that are  impossibly strong, wrap around his chest, keep him close, breathe him in, make him feel held and he breaks. Strange lips press against his neck and say, “Oh, John,” and “That’s it, baby.” and “I’ve got you” it sounds like he means it.
John feels like he breaks into tiny pieces, scattered across time and space when he comes, like King has shattered him and cast his pieces to the four winds. It’s all so fucking good, so nice. He doesn’t really know what to do with any of it. 
So he definitely panics when King, still inside him, still nuzzling him like a large predatory amphibious kitten says “Hey, I forgot to ask, can I get your phone number?”
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