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hopeswriting · 1 year

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Are are your opinions on LucexReborn and the theory on Aria's dad? Yuni's dad is Gamma far I am aware.

hi nonny, thank you for the ask!

if we're talking canon, i do think there's room for the possibility of romantic feelings between luce and reborn, or at least from reborn to luce. i think that based on one (1) scene lol, but look at it:

[ID: Panels from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn, showing Gamma and Reborn talking to each other.

"What is it you want to ask me?" Gamma asks. "Calling me way out here..."

"You... How do you feel about Uni?"

"What kind of random question is that?!" Gamma says, taken aback.

"You know that Uni admires you, right?" Reborn says. "I know it's none of my business, but there's no time. If we waste any more time, then they'll... slip through before we know it. I know you're aware... that the Sky Arcobaleno is blessed with deep emotion, and has a smile brighter than anyone, but they also shoulder the heaviest responsibilities and are taken away from us by destiny." The next panel here shows Gamma thinking of Aria. "There's no time to wait until she grows up," Reborn continues. "Stop treating her like a baby and look at her. Look at her soul." /End ID]

i think it's obvious how they're discussing romantic feelings here, however ambiguous amano chose to make the relationship between gamma and uni, for some reason lol. so when reborn is clearly talking from personal experience here, and not just from factual and objective knowledge; when he says "they" and "we" and "us", i think it's safe to assume he's saying to gamma the words he wished someone would have told him or that he'd have realized in time as he thinks back to his own relationship with luce. that, plus how fondly and warmly he describes the sky arco to be, and how he's the arco closest to uni (iirc he's the only one uni calls "uncle") and presumably had a close relationship with aria too, it's clear he cared a lot about luce at the very least, and still cared about her even after the curse and her death.

(interestingly enough tho, this says nothing about luce's feelings for him. like here, luce & reborn relationship is paralleled with gamma & aria's, but as much as we know aria reciprocated gamma's feelings to some extent, the way reborn says it, "wasting time" and the sky arco "slipping through before they know it", it seems he never got the chance to tell luce how he felt about her. so luce's feelings for him could have been platonic unlike him, or like with aria and gamma, she might have chosen to not act on her feelings even if they were there because of the curse.)

if we're talking about how i feel about the ship, i like it! tho now i say it, i realize i've never really taken the time to think about them before, surprisingly enough, so i have little else to say about them off the top of my head. if not that, of course, the possibility of romantic feelings between them would add yet another layer of pain and tragedy and cruelty to the arco curse when it comes to them, and i'd love to delve into and explore all that angst and hurt/(no) comfort one day!

when you say the theory about aria's dad, i assume you mean how some people headcanon reborn to be her dad, right? if so, personally i really can't see it. i mean, i can see it as you can easily make it fit within canon, but for me it makes little sense character-wise even if it works timeline-wise. by which i mean, luce's shown to be visibly pregnant the day they were cursed, if not heavily pregnant too, so she did the do a couple of months prior. i personally headcanon kawahira kept the whole chosen seven thing going for a year give or take tops, but if we're strictly talking canon, i think it's more likely it only lasted a couple of months seeing as how it was all one giant trap, and kawahira probably wouldn't have wanted to give enough time to the strongest/greatest of their generation to figure it out. and, you know, as two consenting adults, if reborn and luce decided to get it on on sight, then good for them lol, but i don't think for a second they'd have been careless enough for a baby to be born out of it.

i mean, just think about it. luce knew they were all going to get cursed, knew aria would take upon the curse after her death, knew she'd die young because of the curse, leaving aria alone likely when she was still a child, but she'd still have wanted/chosen reborn of all people (or any of the other arco for that matter) to be her dad? would have been okay with that? knowing the kind of situation they'd have had to be a father and daughter in? like, at least luce got to raise aria in an adult body for as long as she was alive, you know. and this point stands especially true if luce & reborn relationship is truly meant to parallel gamma & aria's like implied in the scene above. i.e., luce wouldn't have let herself act on her feelings even if she had them knowing all she did, let alone would have let herself have a child with reborn.

on the other hand, from reborn's side of things, if we say becoming a father is a thing he wants at some point, i just don't think he already wanted to become one at that point in time tbh. or that he's the type to trust someone so much and commit to a relationship to such an extent in only a couple of months. especially not when they got to meet and knew each other in the incredibly suspicious setting that was the whole chosen seven thing, which they were all definitely more or less aware and wary of. and more rather than less, for sure.

reborn also knows to be pragmatic/rational/logical when he needs to be, and seeing that the chosen seven business was when they were all at their prime mafia-wise (or he was at the very least anyway), meaning that's also when they had the most enemies after them who'd also have been powerful, even if he wanted a baby at that time, he'd still likely have chosen to wait for another time when his child would have been less likely to be targeted to get to him. and if not that, like i already said, from the way he advised gamma, even if he already wanted and was ready to have a child at the time, it seems he thought he had the time to take things slow with luce and acted accordingly.

so for all these reasons, i personally don't think reborn is aria's dad, or that there's anything in canon that really hints at it despite how, at the same time, there's also nothing that go against it.

about gamma being uni's dad, i also don't believe he actually is either. it's purely fanon as far as i know. this is also based on one (1) scene because that's pretty much all we got about gamma & aria relationship lol, apart from gamma being/having been in love with her, but look:

[ID: A panel from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

It shows Gamma thinking about moments he spent with Aria. One of those moments show him sitting shirtless on the window of her room, raising his hands in surrender as Aria points a gun at him, sitting on her bed and covering herself with the blanket. /End ID]

if you look at this, there was something definitely not platonic going on between them lol, so i get why gamma is made out to be uni's dad, but at the same time aria was also clearly intent on not letting their relationship become too much not platonic, no matter how she might have really felt inside or what she might have really wanted to do instead. there's also the fact that gamma explicitly says in the future arc that his feelings were unrequited. also he had no idea of uni's existence until she showed up (didn't even know aria was ever pregnant either), and when she did gamma never reacted to her like there was the possibility she was his and aria's daughter.

but most importantly, there was definitely something romantic going on between gamma and uni. and amano somehow managed to both make it explicitly clear and also ambiguous lol, but also they literally confessed to each other, you know. uni even said "i like you just like my mother did", and reborn talks about "admiration", but just look at what else he says in that scene with gamma above. so like, it's clear amano didn't mean for gamma to be uni's dad lol.

that's all strictly canon-speaking tho! as far as fanon goes, i know it's common to make gamma her dad, and like reborn being aria's dad, it easily fits within canon too. but tbh i think either their dads are some random dudes we didn't get to know and that they ideally loved, or there's NO dude at all and just. well, you know. they're half-aliens, so like. who knows what pregnancy and having children even mean for them lol.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #image id #khr meta #khr luce #khr aria #khr uni | yuni #khr reborn #khr gamma #sky arcobaleno #khr asks #Anonymous

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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hi sorry just speaking up on account of fun personal knowledge regarding the ask sayinng ypu should get a typewriter and your tags on said post . my personal favorite beginner level typewriters are smith-coronas, theyre user-friendly and relatively easy to maintain in my eyes. id honestly recommend looking for an electric rather than a manual for your first typewriter - its very different from writing on a modern day computer keyboard, and electrics do a relatively good job of easing you in . the keyboards are more similar to your blocky, 90s-tech keyboards you see out in the wild . my first electric was a smith-corona coronet super12 and honestly its one of the best typewriters i own; the quality is stellar, shes comfortable with me, she actually Likes Being Typed on .

manual typewriters are beasts. theyre often angry if you are not the owner theyve always known (speaking of this - a good place to look for typewriters are estate sales . usually you're lookjng at 20-50usd for a functional typewriter at an estate sale, compared to 100+ at an antique shop or online). but yes manual typewriters are angry creatures . they fight you on everything. my first manual was a hermes3000 in a light powder blue and honestly this typewriter does not like me i think. most typewriters you find out in the wild are going to need a little work - new ribbon, a nice deep clean - but will be relatively functional (esp, again, at estate sales. ppl dont usually keep broken shit). manuals are fussy and will probably want a little more out of you . my hermes needs a full realignment and more than a few of the keys stick . not optimal for your first typewriter .

most importantly - and something they dont tell you when you first start using typewriters, cough - manuals take A LOT OF FORCE TO PRESS THE KEYS. more than you are expecting. it is not like your hp or your mac or dell or alienware or whatever - you have to WORK to type on a manual. i was typing with just my index fingers for the first few months i owned my hermes because i physically couldn't 1) get a feel for the keyboard and 2) press down on the keys comfortably with my other fingers. it hurt after a little while .

that being said, owning a manual is an extremely fun little knickknack to show off. double points if its functional and you actually put it to some use . typewriters are one of those things that get better the more you use them ; you kind of have to break them in, and more use means theyre easier to work with. electrics are similar but are often more forgiving . all this to say that a manual is worth it if youre willing to make the commitment. theyre fun to use . make you feel like a 1940s office worker .

as far as actually writing goes, all manuals and early electrics are not going to have any sort of backspace functionality. honestly i think its rlly helped with being deliberate about what words im using. you can get correction tape (obviously) but it feels a little bit different . i think it helps with just getting ideas onto paper concisely .

no matter what kind of typewriter you get (if any at all) the most important thing is going to be the user manual, whether you actually have the original paper copy or a scanned version youve found online. understanding your typewriter is like reading a recipe. its important to know what each button does and how to use it . if you grew up learning typing on a computer you do not know how to use a typewriter ; youll be able to type but probably not much more . instructions are your best friend . your typewriter is an animal .

typewriters need a little more love in the world . i highly recommend looking around at garage sales, estate sales, thrift stores if youre interested in owning or using one, theyre honestly such an efficient and modernly-under-appreciated piece of technology that really revolutionized the world . thanks for allowing me to ramble i hope this isnt too unwanted

oh this is so informational thank you!! I know next to nothing about typewriters except what they look like and that they make the nice clicky noises. I don't know if I'll ever get one, but if I do it's not gonna be for a few years just because money + I'd wanna set that up and have a nice space for it once I'm living in my own place, and atm I'm still in the 'post college graduate living with parents' phase of my life.

that's really good to know about electric vs manual typewriters though!! I'd probably get an electric for my first one because I rely so heavily on my typing speed. typing stuff on my laptop is muscle memory at this point so I'd be very annoyed if my typing was super heavily impaired on a typewriter. I do know the manual ones take a lot more effort to push down. I've encountered them at antique stores before and have tried to type a tiny bit and it's definitely a challenge

this wasn't unwanted at all it was super helpful!! I love the way you talk about typewriters too. I can definitely imagine that manual ones are like beasts you have to figure out how to work with lol. I'm gonna be saving this as a reference note for if I eventually start looking into getting one for myself

#ask #teethkid67 #typewriters #reference

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amor-immortalem · 1 year

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Meli the Runaway part 2

A/N: This has been rotting in my drafts for three months and I don’t have anything better to post. So I figured it was time to post this…

It’s one of the last quiet mornings Lucifer will get until the end of the next school year. He starts his morning off with a nice cup of tea while Cerberus naps just outside the window. His only child is tucked away safely in his room and sleeping soundly. Nothing could ruin this morning- nothing at all. So why is Diavolo’s good name is Lucifer’s cell phone blaring loudly from its place on the table in front of him at seven in the morning? Better yet, why is it Satan’s name on the caller id?

“Good Morning, Satan. Why are you calling at seven in the morning?”

“Is Melissa with you? She snuck out of the house at some point during the night.” The fourth-born is quick and to the point with it.

“Not even a good morning in return?” The first-born mumbles under his breath, “No, Melissa isn’t here- at least not to my knowledge, anyway. Why? Did you two have another disagreement?”

“I’d say disagreement is an understatement…” Satan sighs, “She threw Hivetes’ laptop out the window yesterday and when I confronted her about it, it turned into a fight.”

“It’s always something between those two, isn’t it?” The blacked-haired demon lets out a sigh through his nose, “Did Melissa actually admit to throwing the laptop out or is this one of those situations where you’re getting two different sides to the story again?”

“Oh no, she admitted it. I grounded her for it but I just want her to apologize to her step-mother.”

“Just let the issue die then- move on and forget making her apologize,” the older demon suggests, “if her apologizing is causing this much of an issue then I have a feeling there’s more to it than you know.”

“She claims Hivites is a totally different demon when I’m not present.”

“Well maybe it’s not that far off from the truth,” Lucifer takes a long sip of his tea, “I know it’s not what you want to hear Satan but what if Melissa is telling the truth about her? Back when we all first fell and I would sporadically try to find a partner, I met plenty of demons and demonesses that have been two-faced when it comes to the six of you. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that she’s that kind of person.”

“Still, we’ve been together in one form or another since Melissa was two- thirteen years is quite a while to put up a ruse like that.”

“Weirder things have happened… anyway, circling back around to the reason you called, I would recommend giving either Asmo or Mammon a ring and see if either of them has her. Melissa usually goes to Azalea or Zulima if she’s having issues with you, doesn’t she?”

“Usually, but I’ve asked them to make sure they at least text me if Meli stops by after our fights just so I know she’s safe… and I haven’t heard anything from either of them so it’s safe to assume she’s not there…”

“I would still cover my bases if I were you.” Lucifer sets his tea cup down as he spies the time, “I’d love to sit here and chat with you all morning but unfortunately I have to get moving. Solaris and I have a busy day ahead of us. Good luck with Melissa- hopefully you find her soon.”

The line clicks off before Satan has a chance to reply, leaving the fourth-born to glare at the device in his hands. “That wasn’t helpful at all.” The blonde dials Asmo next as he heads downstairs to the kitchen where his wife is currently making a pot of coffee for them. She shoots him a curious look when he sets his mobile on the table a little too harshly.

“Meli’s not up in her room so I’m calling my brothers to see if she dropped in on them. Lucifer was no help and Asmo didn’t pick up their phone.” He explains, running a hand through his hair.

Hivites nods slightly before letting out a sigh. “That child of yours- what are we going to do with her?”

“I don’t know,” Satan frowns, “I just wish she wouldn’t sneak out in the middle of the night like this. It’s dangerous for her to be out unattended at that hour… she saw what happened to her cousin when she was out roaming the streets in the middle of the night. I don’t get what would be going through her mind…”

“The one with the missing eye, right? Maybe she’s the one causing this little rebellious phase Meli’s going through.” Hivites sets a mug of coffee on the table for Satan before going back to fix herself one.

“Azalea? No, I don’t think so. What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, they’re always spending time together along with your other niece as well and it seems like Azalea would be the master of knowing how to spite a parent considering how spiteful the girl can be with her own parents. I just think perhaps some of her more… problematic behaviours are starting to rub off on our dear Melissa, you know? It worries me that she’ll turn into a delinquent the more time she spends with her cousin.”

“That’s a little unfair to blame that on Azalea alone though, don’t you think? We’re the parents, if Meli were to become a delinquent ultimately it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault but ours for improper parenting.”

“I’m just saying that I think her cousin’s a bad influence on her is all.” She gives him a smile as she takes a sip from her coffee. “Whether or not you feel the same is up to you…”

A silence falls over them as the blonde contemplates his wife’s words. He picks his phone back up and dial’s Mammon’s number, hoping he’d at least have the decency to answer unlike Asmo.

And he does, answering with a very out of breath “Yo.” Satan is a little taken aback by the greeting.

“Umm, Morning, Mammon. Did I call at a bad time?”

“No… no, not really,” the second-born answers still out of breath, “I was just out chasing down some runaway souls in Hell. I’m just really… out of shape from what I used to be. Why?”

“I was looking for Meli. We had a fight last night and when I went to wake her up this morning, she wasn’t in her room but I guess since you’re down in Hell, it’s safe to assume you don’t know if she decided to drop in on you and Arella.”

“Yeah, no. You’d be better off just callin’ ‘Rella to see if she’s there.”

“Alright, thanks. Keep an eye out for her once you get back please.”

“Will do.”

The line clicks off on Mammon’s end and the wrath demon moves on to his next contact.

・・・〆・・・

As the morning goes on and each call to his brothers and eventually the parents of his daughter’s friends turns up empty handed, Satan can’t help but feel worried. If she wasn’t with any of their family or any of her friends, where could Melissa have gone? Part of the demon wants to contact authorities and open a missing person’s case but another part of him wants to wait the day out, see if she just comes back on her own.

What if something happens to her? is the nagging thought in the back of the Avatar of Wrath’s mind. He just hopes she turns up soon.

・・・〆・・・

Two weeks later

“That had to be the single worst experience of my life,” Melissa groans out as she lays on the ground. “I can see why everyone prefers to leave the Devildom via portal. That trek through the layers of hell fucking sucks.”

As she sits up, the teen brushes some of the debris from her hair. She’s never felt so tired in her whole life. Her brown eyes drift to the bright blue sky of the human world as she lets her body soak in the sunlight.

Where in the human world even am I, anyway…?

・・・〆・・・

To be continued (eventually)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me oc #obey me kids #obey me next gen #obey me next gen oc #melissa

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conflictandscotchblog · 9 months

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A Long Overdue Salute to the Colonel

Recently, I received a friend request on FACEBOOK from a woman whose name I did not recognize.

She then sent me a message that she worked with me at the COLONELS GARTER (trust me, it’s a name of a bar name from the eighties) and I immediately accepted. You don’t ignore a voice from the past.

After a short text message exchange, I thought about my time in that job. Made me think, ‘I should write a blog post about it’.

So, Carol, thank you for the inspiration; this blog’s for you.

Author’s Note: What follows is my memory, it may be right, it may be wrong, but it’s mine. In addition, I may not use names for two reasons:

One – to protects someone’s anonymity.

Two – I just don’t remember their names.

In the late seventies, early eighties, there were a string of bars that peppered New Jersey, they all began with the name Art Stock’s (insert name of bar here).

Art Stock, as far I as knew, was a school teacher, that somehow became the ‘name’ of a series of bars in the state. I worked in two ‘Art Stock’ bars, the Royal Manor North, and the Colonel’s Garter.

By far, the better bar was the Colonel’s Garter.

To be clear, I was a bouncer, not a bartender. Worked the door, roamed the floor, stood by the stage while the band played (maybe that’s why I have lousy hearing). It was a very casual atmosphere. For instance, even though the drinking age was still eighteen, sometimes patrons would enter who ‘forget their IDs’.

My reply?

“Just open your wallet,” I would say, “show me something. A picture of your dog, your favorite Aunt, I don’t care, just show me something’.

To which they would, and I’d let them in.

Air Guitar was big back in the early eighties. For those unenlightened, basically you stood on stage while a song played, and mimicked playing a guitar. Each week, The Garter (as we called it) had an air guitar contest.

Some would get into it, jump up and down on the stage, one arm circling the imaginary instrument.

However, that was nothing compared to what a friend I’d known since high school did one night.

He walked up on stage, the music started, and he played air guitar. When the song ended, he took a bow, then pulled up his shirt, pulled down his pants (and underwear) and raised his arms in triumph.

During this display, my manager, Ray, stood next to me on the floor.

He laughed, then asked, “Isn’t that your friend?”

Yes, I tentatively replied.

“Well, tell him he’s banned for a month.”

Exactly one month later, with the banned lifted, my friend went up on stage – and did it again.

To my knowledge, after the second ban from the club, he retired his air guitar act.

There is a slight addendum to his action, during his ‘act’ he started a chant about a body parts (one which everyone could clearly see) but I can not, and will not, repeat it here.

Just know, there was chanting.

The best part of working in a bar, also the worst, was closing time. It is so hard to get drunks to leave a bar when the lights come on. Around and around I’d go, tell people to leave, and they just didn’t get the hint. In reality, we just wanted them out so the staff could drink while the band of the night broke down their equipment. While the band did that, we’d drink for free and play video games (usually PAC-Man and Ms. PAC-Man – don’t judge us, it was the eighties).

Sometimes, we didn’t leave the bar until the sun peaked over the horizon.

Did you know, when bartenders cleaned their stations, they would serve us a drink called a ‘Jim Jones’?

What is a ‘Jim Jones’? Glad you asked.

Quick history lesson: Jim Jones was a cult leader that killed his followers with a lethal concoction of cyanide and fruit juice.

It’s where the phrase ‘Drink the Kool-Aid’ comes from.

For us, it was a concoction of all the alcohol run-off collected in the rubber mats underneath where the bartenders mixed their drinks (Vodka, Gin, Tequila, Scotch, mixers, soda, etc).

We would end up doing shots of this conglomerate of liquids (Amazed we are still alive).

During one of these after-hours meeting, my manager, Ray, said to me, “Al, before I hired you,” he laughed, “I would order one case of Tanqueray every three months. Now, its a case a month.”

My drink of choice during work hours? Tanqueray and club soda.

I think it was just a coincidence.

It wasn’t all just business, of course, their were also affairs of the heart.

Well, almost.

There was a woman that worked the Imported Beer Bar that I liked. Back then, it didn’t take much for me to like a woman, but it took me to move a mountain to actually tell her.

I did, I asked her out, and she said yes (cue the fireworks montage).

The next night, as I walked into work, this woman came out to meet me in the parking lot. How sweet was that? Her she was, greeting me before work started.

Turns out, not so much.

She came out to tell that she could not go out with me because she liked someone else.

Side Note: It’s always High School.

I guess (well, I know), that I don’t handle rejection well. The rest of the night was a drunken blur, and because we took care of each other during trying times (well, I’d find out later what might have happened during these ‘trying times’) I was given a ride home.

The next night, when I made it back to work, I was told that there was a discussion, with me in my inebriated state, they wanted to put me on a plane to Boston, as a joke (this was the eighties, you could actually do that).

But, instead, they drove me home.

I’d like to thank those that voted against this absolutely horrible idea, because I don’t think I would have done well, drunk and alone, (new reality show?) in Boston.

When it was over, and the bar was sold, the new owner decided that what South Amboy needed was a New York City-style Night Club (it did not).

On the last night of the Colonel's Garter, the band Flossie played. Flossie was the lead singer and she wore tight red leather pants.

Pure Rock’ N’ Roll.

The night the new re-imaged bar opened (City Lights), and was now like a New York Night Club, Flossie (also re-imaged) stepped out on stage in an evening gown.

Neither the bar, nor the band, worked.

A few years later, the bar became a strip-club called ‘Delilah's Den’.

After that, who knows if the building still exists, but all I know is...

...it was fun while it lasted.

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seederankle38 · 2 years

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#seo

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writing-on-the-wahl · 3 years

Text

Writing Snippet #10

O Positive

Part 2

Ok so @im-a-wonderling had a FANTASTIC idea for a snippet, but I’m putting the ask below to not cause spoilers lol:)

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling as well for the beta read, edits, suggestions, and expert medical knowledge to help make this way more realistic than my original draft! You’re amazing!!!

—————————————————

Hero shifted from side to side as she stood in line, fingers clutching a bottle of orange juice.

“Well you’re prepared.” Hero’s head shot up as the attendant waved her forward. “Normally people wait until after to go for the juice.”

She chuckled nervously. “That’s me... prepared.”

“ID?” She scrambled through her wallet, making sure she didn’t grab either of the two aliases she’d already used at different locations that morning.

She would have used the same ID, but last time she’d tried to explain that she healed super fast- a result of her powers- and could donate more, the resulting argument had lasted nearly an hour, with nurses questioning whether her “magic blood” could even be used at all (it was perfectly normal blood thank you very much), and they’d still only let her donate the normal amount.

She handed him the correct ID, and he shoved a clipboard full of paperwork at her. A phlebotomist led her to a reclining chair. Even though she’d filled out the information twice that morning, it still took approximately twelve years to finish the stack of forms. The phlebotomist returned, and began asking her an equally long list of questions. She only half paid attention to the stream of questions.

Have you received any blood transfusions?

No.

Have you traveled in the last 6 months?

No.

Are you free of HIV or any other blood diseases?

Yes.

Have you ever been pregnant?

Yes.

Wait! No!

The phlebotomist chuckled as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “Ok let’s see that arm.” Hero held out her mark-free arm. After the first donation that morning, the needle mark and resulting bruise had been gone in a matter of minutes. After the second, she’d had to wait over thirty minutes before the signs of her deception to fade. The phlebotomist wrapped a tourniquet above her elbow before consulting her paperwork.

“It says here you’d like to do a double donation?”

“Yes.”

“You have to be 150lbs in order to donate that much sweetie.” The older woman eyed Hero dubiously.

Her throat went dry. “I know. I am.”

“I’m just going to take one bag today; you’re looking a little pale, honey.”

“But the other phlebotomist let me—”She cut off and cleared her throat. “I mean, last time I donated. It was fine.”

The phlebotomist shook her head as she felt the inside of Hero’s arm for the vein.

Hero forced a cheery smile. “This is important. I’ll be fine.”

By tomorrow, she added silently. Or the day after that...

Last time she’d only been able to get in one regular and one double donation before she’d gotten called into help with a work emergency. She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, but had woken up fine the next morning. Of course, that was only half the amount of blood...

The woman narrowed her eyes before shaking her head.

“The shortage is the worst it’s been in years, but I’m only going to take one bag today.”

“But—”

“Unless you’d like to go stand on that scale over there?”

Hero blanched, then mutely shook her head.

The woman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I thought not,’ before raising her voice to a normal volume. “And make sure to take it easy and drink that orange juice you’ve got there.” She nodded at the bottle in Hero’s hand as she swabbed her arm with an alcohol wipe and picked up a needle.

“I will.”

————— 30 minutes (or so) later —————

Hero made it ten steps out of the building before she collapsed against the wall, head swimming. She peeled the tape and cotton ball off her arm. Blood immediately began to trickle down her forearm.

She struggled to unscrew the cap of her juice, hands shaking. Finally, she succeeded, the cap slipping through her fingers and bouncing against the sidewalk. She brought the bottle to her lips, but only managed a few sips before her stomach revolted. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious stares from pedestrians on the crowded downtown street.

She needed to get home.

A quaking boom shook the ground, and Hero cracked open her eyes to see a plume of smoke a few blocks over.

Most likely the bank on main. Or the diamond store next door.

She took a step towards the plume of smoke, but the ground was still rocking, and she had a feeling it wasn’t from the explosion. She closed her eyes as panicked civilians began running to and fro.

Her phone rang out in a pealing tone, sending her a foot into the air, her orange juice falling to the ground with a sticky splash.

The emergency line.

Groaning, she accepted the call.

“Hero! Villain just set off a bomb on Main Street.”

“Diamonds or bank vault?”

“BOTH! You need to get over there now!”

Hero covered her eyes. She wanted to, she really did. If only the ground would stop moving.

“It’s my day off. Send Other Hero.” She cringed at her seemingly callous words, but she didn’t think the Hero Agency would exactly condone what she’d just done.

Even if she was just trying to save lives.

“Other Hero is undercover spying on Supervillain. Your phone shows you are six blocks away. That will take you 12 seconds to get your speedy butt over there.”

A second explosion rocked the ground.

Oh he didn’t. Hero growled, pushing off the wall and taking a hesitant step forward.

The ground was finally still. Much better. She pulled out the spare mask she always kept in her purse and fitted it across her eyes.

12 seconds, she scoffed.

————— 9 (and a half) seconds later————

Hero skidded to a halt in front of the shattered front windows of Pristine Diamonds.

The windows of the bank next door were in a similar condition. She rested a hand against the ash stained wall, gasping as the world spun.

She forced her head up, scanning the scene. A gaping hole had been blown in the wall connecting the two businesses, and smoke was still pouring out of both buildings. She darted into the diamond store, moving without her super speed through the black air. She made it to the back of the store, where the massive safe stood empty, the door hanging drunkenly off one hinge.

She cursed and made her way to the jagged hole. She was halfway across the bank lobby when a figure leapt from the smoke and she was thrown to the side.

She scrambled to her feet as Villain faded back into the smoke. His laughter echoed around her as she spun in desperate circles. The smoke thickened until it was nearly solid around her.

“You’re slow today, Hero.” The voice rang out behind her, and she whirled around, but there was nothing but smoke.

Her vision was truly swimming now. She swiped at her eyes. “And you’re extravagant. You can create smoke from nothing, you didn’t actually need to set off a bomb.”

“I was creating a passage between the businesses. They should thank me.” The voice was to her right, and she spun again. There was no point in super speed if she couldn’t see. Her head was starting to pound.

“And that outfit.” The whisper brushed against her neck, and she whirled around again, only to see the smoke curling in around the place where Villain had just stood.

She glanced down self-consciously at her pink shorts and baggy tie-dye T-shirt.

“You already ruined my day off. There’s no need to mock my clothes as well.” She huffed, taking determined strides in the direction she hoped was the door.

“Who said I was mocking?”

She sensed him behind her the instant before he attacked. She spun. He hit. She flew. Across the room. To the floor. Over chunks of rubble. And into a brick wall.

Her back cracked against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

Smoke swirled through the air as Villain emerged, the dark tendrils receding to lap at his heels.

He looked surprised; he’d never actually managed to land a blow that direct before.

Hero forced herself off the ground. It was time to retreat. She summoned her powers, but between her swimming head and the sharp pain in her leg, she made it only a few feet before sinking back to the ground with a quiet whimper of pain.

She forced her blurry gaze up to Villain, who was regarding her with a strange expression on his face.

“I thought you healed as fast as you can run.”

She blinked, and realized he wasn’t looking at her, but at her leg.

She looked down. Blood seeped from a long shallow gash on the outside of her calf, no doubt from a sharp piece of rubble.

Smaller cuts and bruises covered the rest of her body, and none of them were healing.

“That’s strange.” She wiped clumsily at the cut.

Villain’s eyes narrowed. “You seem oddly off your game, Hero. You haven’t lost that much blood.”

She mustered the energy to glare at Villain. “I did tell you this was my day off.”

“I wonder if it’s from the blood earlier.” She mused, floating on a hazy cloud.

The tendrils of smoke scattered as Villain knelt down beside her.

“What blood? You came to fight me when you were already injured?”

His voice sounded as though he was speaking through a tunnel.

“There’s a national blood shortage. Worst it’s been in years.”

“So?”

“So, I donated.”

Villain scoffed as he produced a cloth from somewhere and began wrapping it around her leg. “You have regenerative healing powers, a pint of blood wouldn’t have made you this weak.”

Hero shook her head and weakly held up five fingers.

Villain froze. “FIVE PINTS OF BLOOD!” He roared, smoke dancing angrily around them. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE!? YOU SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!”

Her head throbbed with every word, and she flinched away.

“I heal fast.” It was barely a whisper, but his fiery eyes met hers.

“I don’t care how fast you heal. No one can survive losing half their blood.” At least now his rage was contained to a low snarl. He grabbed Hero’s hands and pulled her to her feet.

“Your hands are freezing! What were you thinking!? Why would you face me after donating that much blood?!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He continued to seethe as he swept Hero into his arms and strode through the bank. He paused only to swing a bulging duffle bag onto one shoulder before he swept out through a second gaping hole into a back alley. A dark SUV was waiting in the shadows. He tossed the bag into the back and slid Hero into the passenger seat.

She curled against the warm leather.

“I was just trying to help.” She mumbled, her voice muffled as she spoke into the headrest.

“I know.” A hand ran down her hair. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”

She forced her eyes wider, remembering. “I can’t. I have a job to do.”

Villain shut her door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Slipping into place, he started the engine.

“Not today.” He managed a small smile even as his eyes crinkled in concern.

“It’s your day off, remember?”

Original request from @im-a-wonderling:

“I started thinking about a story where the hero donates blood and then the villain does something that the hero has to go and face them. The villain notices the hero is off their game, but assumes they’re just tired or something. Then, the hero gets injured. The injury is really minor in terms of blood loss, but the hero is pale and sickly and can’t stand up and the villain gets all protective like “WHY would you come and FACE ME if you DONATED BLOOD today?!” And the hero mumbles “They’re having a blood shortage.” And the villain is ready to wring the hero’s neck for not taking care of themselves. So they just scoop the hero up in their arms and brings them back to their lair to feed them and let them sleep.”

Again thanks so much for the request!! I hope I did it justice:)

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #hero and villain #hero #villain #snippet #my writing #write #writeblr #ive donated blood exactly once #thanks again for the medical expertise #don’t lie on medical forms pls ppl #chaotic good heroes #protective villain

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jovnie · 3 years

Text

The king's arrogance | Namjoon

Summary

The King had knowledge on everything and one in his castle, however he knew nothing of the kingdom he ruled before him. That was till one day he left and found you a street merchant.

Words 5k

Namjoon king au! Reader civilian!

Warnings: fluff, cocky joon, medium amount of smut, mentions of parent death, creampie, oral ( female ), big-dick Joon, nonconsensual touches, creampie, rough sex, lot of plot. Very quick relationship.

I beg that you listen to The mary go round from the moving castle [ slowed ] when reading. I think you'll enjoy it even more with it in the background.

Namjoon sat on the throne, laid back and legs spread apart as a servant read him his to-do list for today.

"Well sir, today starts the month planning of the ball. We have a few colors I'm sure you'll enjoy, however, I'm sorry to inform you that the family members that shouldn't be named threatened third way onto the guest list" the man spoke in fear, nodding and sighing namjoon dismissed the servant with talks of the guest later.

"Mrs. Pot is the tea almost ready?" He asked kindly as the elder Korean lady nodded with a bright smile. Smiling softly, the older lady pinched his cheeks softly.

"I still remember when you were a baby and your late parents running you from tea session to tea session. Oh, how I'm sure you miss them as much as I " her smile faded, as she poured the tea on the table in front of him.

"I do, it's been 18 years now. Since I was 10 I believe, so right 18 years. I'm sure they would've loved to taste this freshly poured tea once again" he reassured, rubbing her back and once done taking a sip with her.

"I'll make sure to clean the alter table later and pour some tea with them" she smiled delicately, as took a drink of her tea.

That was right this year would make it the 18th anniversary of his parent's passing ever since the flood. It was heartbreaking, as his eyes dimmed in sadness the older lady pinched his cheek as he smiled with a tear down his cheek.

"Now don't go soft on me Namjoon, you have to stay strong for those who can't and I know it all hurts. But they'll be watching you like garden spirits. I know your mother is very proud and your father knowing how much a man and a king you have become. Now I have to go, it's time for me to go tend the gardens. Goodbye joonie" she waved, after collecting the empty teacups snd pots. Watching her wheel everything away, namjoon felt comforted by her words and took a deep breath before getting up and moving on with his day.

He spent the day testing and looking at fabrics, color swatches, and paper samples. The ball, gala, or celebration was very important for the kingdom. They only three one when it was important and this time it was a celebration of life once lived aka his parent's death date. September 4th. This day celebrated life and death, just like fall. He loved the metaphor behind it and hated how true love ended so quickly in his eyes. However he too wishes to be able to die with the one he loved dearly by his side, he hated how romantic it sounded and how bad he wanted it. Love wasn't an easy game and not once could he find someone who commented with him in a deep, if not spiritual way.

Itching the back of his head, he walked on and into his room. He had another busy schedule ahead of him. Sometimes he just wished he could live amongst the people for a day. That's what he'll do. Looking around for his leather satchel, he put together what he called a commoners bag. A bag that contained money, an id, and a diary. Looking around for clothes that seemed passable for a commoner and changed into them. From there he grabbed his stuff and snuck his way out of the Castle through the bag. He made sure Mrs. Pot knew where he was just in case this would get him in trouble. After all, the family would show up unexpectedly most of the time and he had people watch his every move as well.

Making sure his hat covered all of his hair, he walked into the street lights and found a carriage ride who was going home or into the city. He paid the guy and let him into the buggy and the city.

Namjoon did this for a weak till he knew the ropes of running out of the kingdom St night, he tried his best to avoid getting caught with the knight guards and the pesticide workers who showed nd yelled deals in his face. He also learned patience along with that, another valuable lesson needed as a king or so he was taught.

One night he went into a low-lit bar with entertainers. Majory we're female and drove the men in the room wild. He's had his fee share of women, but not when it came to this level. He found it charming and often sent gifts to them for their hard work. From the kingdom's guards and not him personally. Still, he ordered rice wine snd some jerky, before leaving. leaving a lady much shorter than him, bumped into his shoulder.

"Guards there's the thrift!" A younger woman pointed, as the men ran after her. Wanting to know what was up, he walked up to the merchant and simply asked. You explained that the woman was a theft, they would steal all her family food at night to make their profit.

"I'm sure you can be more um what are these?" He asked, picking up the food he's never seen before.

"Fruit?" You questioned grabbing the lemon out of his hand. "Well shops closed sir, come back tomorrow and you can buy our lovely fruit," you said kindly, walking up the stairs in this wooden place. Following you, namjoon closed the door behind and also walked up. Namjoon didn't know much manners, but he had the basics for a king. However, to a common person like you, he was a pest, rude, etc.

"Um, what are you doing?" you asked folding sheets for your bed up.

"It's nighttime aren't you gonna ask me to stay and wait till morning?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I supposed. By the way, there's a futon bed over there. I'll make dinner soon then!" you welcomed, as namjoon looked ok confusion at what the blanket on the floor was trying to imitate. Taking off his shoes, he placed his bag on the 'futon' and hung his jacket and hat on the hanger by the door.

Arriving back you blushed hard, as a beautiful looking man was now clear in your view. Luckily for namjoon, you had no money to spend on papers like everyone else or let alone money to go to the balls either. Therefore you had no clue that this man was a noble, let alone the king. If you did you would've just died at how you just treated him.

"It's beef and seaweed soup, with carrots and onions" you listed off as you placed the bowl on the floor diner table. Placing a spoon and a napkin on the side, you forgot the drink. Walking away you grabbed him a cup and poured lemonade in, before walking back. On your arrival, you saw him going to town on the meal. He slurped and moaned as he complimented your cooking. Chuckling, you sat the glass of lemonade down and took the napkin to wipe his chin and cheek. Placing it down, you watched him continue and enjoy it. Although there was only enough for his, you still had something to eat. You simply had bread and butter with some lemonade as well.

It took him a bit to notice you didn't have a bowl which made him feel a bit guilty but instead handed her 30 ₩ which was a lot during that time. Not wanting to take it, he "accidentally " dropped it down your bra and smiled.

"Well it's late, we should sleep and then go out to shop for food and new clothes" the man spoke.

"I'm sorry but I don't know you, how do I not know you're not trying to kidnap me or steal or worse kill me!" You mentioned as the older man stripped off his shirt.

"You don't have to, just know ill help you and accept the gift" he spoke, pitting his clothes beside him.

"Excuse you, you don't come in someone's house and act like this. Do you even have manners?" You added in frustration.

"I paid you, it wasn't a gift. It was a payment and I can tell you've never gotten one" he snickered, laying on the futon snd taking your cover. Annoyed at the man, you crossed your arm as he mouth "you have a problem?"

"Yes, I do! What's your name to begin with?" You asked, laughing it off he closed his eyes.

"Surprised you don't know and it'll stay like that for a bit darling" he whispered, moving over he patted next to him. "Sleep with me"

"No! I don't sleep with strangers like that, unlike you I have honor " you mentioned, getting up to go change into something appropriate for bed. Once done, you came back and he was still in the same position as before.

"I think I demanded that. besides I can ruin this little shop of yours if you don't. " he threatened, looking at his nails snd then at her. Well dressed and groomed man, you could visibly see the power he likely had. This was your mother's business and you promised her you would take care of it. Saddened you laid down next to him and whispered "please don't, this is all I have left."

"So we're on the same page I believe, no?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Yes," he replied. She felt uncomfortable and annoyed at the fact she had to do this for a business. Let alone a man, then again the men weren't always so kind to the women here, most always. She sighed and just accepted it, as he covered the two up.

"Call me Joon, " be whispered in your ear. Nodding, his hands traveled up and down your wist. Coughing, he halted then stopped after finding a comfy place to lay his hand.

"Do you do this with every woman?" You asked, curious.

"Well the last time I had a woman in my arms, she tried to advance me in marriage" he mentioned, putting his neck in-between your shoulder and neck.

"I do however have experience If that's what your aim is?" He said softly.

"Not really, I mean if a stranger just threatened your job and made you do this. Along with inappropriate touching for people who just met, I'd believe you'd be the class below poverty. Not a king not noble" you told, unexpectedly holding his arm between your breast.

Noticing, namjoon's cheeks flushed red. Luckily the lantern. Was behind him and not in front, so she couldn't see. "Toché" he replied.

"However I can see you've had a bad experience with men hmm?" He asked, softly brushing his nose on her neck.

"So you're not around here I see, well yes every guy here is just shit. Rude snd ignorant as you" you huffed, as raised an eyebrow.

"I'll give you that, feminist huh. Cute, haven't met one till you" he smiled, intrigued. "It seems like I've violated it huh, touching you snd acting sloppy" he added, moving your hair out your face.

"Glad you noticed, now turn the candle out!" you demanded, closing your eyes. Doing just that, he then wrapped his leg around you snd kissed your cheek.

"Good night"

Morning came, as the two of you laid there comfortable in each other's embrace. With him being the first to wake up, he tapped your shoulder and you woke up soonly after him. Yawing and stretching, you made sure your hand hit him on purpose.

"Sorry," you said coy, as he rolled his eyes up and shrugged it off.

"So when's breakfast?" He asked, getting up as you realized he had just worn cotton briefs. One's that we're expensive and that added more mystery to him. Why was someone who could've been from a noble family be here and threatened for his stay? Then the thought of maybe it's all stolen.

"The time?" He asked waving his hands over your face as you realized you had zoned out.

"Sorry, we have to go get food and we can buy food at the square." You mentioned.

"Where's the bathroom?" He asked, you pointed to the medium-sized room across from him. The place was small and combined, so you could see the kitchen from the bed area and a mini living room. Nodding off he grabbed his clothes snd began using the pump to pump water into the bath.

"Don't use all the water!" You yelled.

"I can and make you join me" he yelled back, smirking.

"No ill make you get more water from the lake behind here" you replied, itching your hair.

"Don't you have to get more water anyways, less work" he mentioned, leaving the door open and sitting in the tub? This man was quite weird when it came to flirting, it somewhat seemed motherly and innocent. However on the other hand, overly sexual and mysterious.

"Fine" you huffed, striping and walking towards the tub. That's when that harsh look he had softened and turned into a stare. There you were in front of him, naked snd he took every moment to vies your body. He saw how thick your hair was and how curvy your body was. He liked that, he paid attention to how big your breast was and the fact it looked like you haven't trimmed in a week. Which meant you looked old enough for him to do special things with.

"How old are you?" he questioned.

"I love how you did all of this without asking' she rolled her eyes, trying to muster a pony 0tail with the length and thickness of her hair.

"Turning 20 next month!" she replied excitedly.

"28 next month as well" he replied, breathing out the air he had subconsciously kept in. Getting in, she sat in front of him, covering her chest with her knees.

"I can still see you!" he laughed, grabbing the soap from the tray. Washing his body first, he took his hands and spread her legs open and washed below and around her arms and chest.

"Open," he said, waiting. Opening your arms you rolled your eyes and he splashed you with water. "Manners young lady " he mentioned. Knowing he's right, you sighed. Your father once told you the same when he was alive and because of that "Joon" reminded you of your father a bit. He acted mature and young simultaneously.

Washing your arms and your thighs, you washed off the soap on his neck and took the plug out to drain the dirty water. Placing the soap down, he spread his legs open and you accidentally saw something you shouldn't have. Frightened and embraced, you blushed. Taking his hand and pushing your gaze to meet his. He smiled softly.

"It's fine, just don't get too threatened by it. I'm aware of the size," he mentioned, looking you in your eyes. Nodding, you this time pumped the water until it was all out. Cleaning the both of you, you couldn't help but feel shy snd flustered. He felt the same, only he knew how to hide it. But not everything he knew or wanted to hide.

He looked in your eyes, noticing a soft dismal look on you to which he replied with "tell me are you okay?" Thankful for the concern, you told him about your parents passing and the shop's importance to you was. He understood automatically and exchanged his parent's passing in less detail. He didn't think he'd meet with someone with such a familiar background as his, even if they were below Noble.

He took her hand and placed it on her chest. "They're here, I'm sure your mother would be proud of how you came out to be. So leave it at that" he smiles wildly, with his eyes closing shut a bit as he did. You were glad to hear that and he never thought that Mrs.pot's comfort would come in handy, but he's glad to say and share a similar message.

"Speaking of do you have an altar?" He asked gently, unplugging the water and helping you stand up. Nodding you pointed out the door to a small corner. He thanked you and grabbed both of you a towel. Getting dried and dressed you did your hair as he went over to pay the slightest respects. Smiling at how kind the gesture was, you walked over to the rack and tripped over your foot trying to hand him his stuff. You saw a journal fall out and your eyes met his.

"You're a journalist?" You questioned, fixing your dress and hair before getting up and handing his stuff.

"Yeah, not from here tho," he lied, dusting dirt from your shoulder. Nodding you both made your way down the stairs, as he took your hand. Noticing it, you smiled. You wondered why he was being nice to you all of the sudden, however, that all changed when a guard walked past by and he brought you to a kiss. Confused and his eyes waiting for them to go, you kissed back hesitantly. Letting go, you looked at him worried he shrugged it off and you walked him to the square.

Hand in Hand, you brought namjoon to the bakery. Looking around, he pointed out the most expensive bread on hand and paid. Thanking him, he leads your hand to the vendors outside. Lucky for you, he knew about gardening and what was good. He helped and taught you the basics snd you learned you've been scammed for years. Thanking him, you took him to a cart of flowers and smelled the fresh roses, looking up at him. He paid for the golden yellow rose bouquet. Now it was for his favorite part of the day, clothes shopping. But beforehand, he pulled you into a cafe.

"Two bags of your finest coffee," namjoon ordered, by now you shouldn't have been shocked at how much he could spend. But seeing him use more money than you've sent your entire life was a sight to see snd each time you were thankful. You had enough food and supplies to last week if not a month. Holding you close by him, you realized you warmed up to him and small gestures like that felt comforting to you. He noticed and did it more often.

Soon it was night and there was only, one dress store open. In there was a beige dress that sparkled in the shop's lights. Running to the window to look, you smiled. Feeling a hand on your back, he took a step in and pulled your hand in with him.

"Welcome to Gezels tailor and shop" the owner greeted. He was an older man with gray hair a fragile smile.

"Well take that dress in the window snd tailor it to her size. His much is it?" Namjoon asked, pulling his wallet for the last time today.

"₩ 10,000" the man spoke, paying upfront the older man invited you to the back room and told namjoon to stay upfront. Nodding, you walked ahead and namjoon sat in the chair. He had a diary to write about today's and yesterday's adventures. He started up about the bathtub time you shared snd imagined your body once again. If only he knew his to draw, he'd paint a pretty picture in the book. Soon after finishing his entry, you walked out with a note.

Note: the dress will be ready for you miss before dusk, come back tomorrow with your lover -Gezel tailor and shop

You handed it to namjoon and he read it, as the two walked out. Suddenly loud commotions of horses snd guards ran through the city with lights.

"The king's missing!" The horseman yelled into the square. Namjoon in a panic rushed you two into the forest nearby. Confused, but following him. You wondered if he had something to do with it, besides this wasn't the first time he ran away from the guards today.

"They can't find me or ill be in trouble, act like a lover, please. I'll pay you in gold when I can" he begged on his knees with his hat on his chest.

"Don't pay me, think of it as a token of my gratitude. I'll help, but you have to explain everything when we get back," you murmured, taking his hands and helping him out the dirt. Making you drop the food and his bag.

Suddenly, he gripped your body and jumped both of you in a lake as he heard the sounds of horses clamping. A sound you didn't even hear. Holding your head under the water, he waited for the light of the torch to leave the lake area before swimming the two of you up.

Taking deep breaths of air, the two of you swam to the doc snd he helped you up first before himself. Luckily, the food wasn't damaged. Frustrated, you grabbed the food and his bag as you walked home. Walking in, you kept the lights off snd went to the second floor.

Stripping you of your clothes snd placing the bags down, you watched him do the same. Forgetting you had to pump the water, he suggested he'd go do it and you nodded giving him directions snd within 30minutes he was done. Striping once again, he hugged your body to his chest. You soon felt tears on your neck and small crys, you rubbed his back snd just stood there till he let go.

"What's wrong?'" You asked concerned.

"I could've killed you!" he cried, remembering the look his mother gave him before dying in his arm. His father did the same thing to his mother, only on a ship in the middle of the sea. Hugging him, you rubbed his back and placed a kiss on his lips. Holding you to his chest, kissed you back, and laid back so your bare body laid on his.

"Let's wait to shower" he suggested, kissing your neck. Nodding your head no, he flipped you over on your stomach softly and trapped your legs with his. "Please?' He asked, leaning down on your level on the floor snd holding your chest in his hand. Agreeing, knowing what's about to happen you loosened up snd he turned you on your back.

His hands ran around your chest and thighs, leaning down to kiss your naked body as a slight moan came out. From there, he moved his lips to your mouth and softly moved yours to his hair. Taking note, you ran his fingers through his dark brown ones as the two of you danced with each other's tongue. Namjoon removed his lips snd traveled down south, gripping his hair in pleasure you moaned grinding your hips. Meanwhile, he took in a natural aroma, one he found arousing. Moving his tongue around the bud, he softly kissed your thighs leaving bruises.

Looking at your head tilting back snd eyes closed with heavy to light breathing. He took his pointer finger snd rubed softly in circles, moving his body to tower you with one arm. Noticing the shift of best around your neck, you felt his warm breath move down your neck and by your ear.

"Let me tell you something darling, I'm not who I say I am" he kissed around your neck, papering it in kisses. Hearing you moan, made him aroused by the minute. However he knew it was time to go back to the castle, only he wasn't going empty-handed. As your hands rubbed his back, he whispered "I'm Namjoon, they're looking for me, darling. Tonight the last night I can spend here so let's make it count" in a raspy tone.

In shock, he gave you a minute to calm down as he could hear your heart. "I'm sorry" he apologized.

"No need, but for whatever this may be for you. Just know I haven't done anything like this with anyone," you admitted. Humming he moved to the other ear and whispered "I like that, just know it will hurt after a few minutes snd then feel better or the pain could feel good!" he warned. Taking his warning, he gently rubed you as got on his knees and opened your legs wide. Watching as he did, you noticed he was fully erected at this point and ready. You closed your eyes snd tensed your muscles as he began to simply grind his tip into you.

He was right there was pain, which caused you to bleed a bit. However, it was enjoyable without a doubt. Soon he was able to put 6/9 inches in as he trusted slowly. Moaning under him, he moved his in circles biting his lower lip as looked at your fuller lips and leaned over and wrapped your legs around his waist. After a few moments of waiting for you to adjust, you thought about today snd how it was so obvious he was the king snd yet it flee by.

As you moaned loud, his thrusts began to speed up snd the two of you could hear the sounds of his hips banging into yours snd your ass as he went faster.

"Ah, baby!" He grunted, grinding into you deeply as your hands rubed into his hair. Morning louder, his lips conceded back to yours as you held on snd then to your neck where you heard his heavy breathing. Your body was tightening around him, as he went in deeper now putting himself in. Not to mention you began to pool around him which gave him more speed in the end.

"Namjoon!" You moaned in his ear, holding his back tightly as your legs unwrapped snd opened wider for him. Cursing under his breath, he went harder as you began to arch your bag in pleasure. He held onto your back as your head went backs and the build of pleasure built up quickly.

you held onto his muscular shoulders while he moved you closer to him to go deeper. With that sending you over the edge, you screamed his name in pleasure as yours and his breathing began to match in heaviness. Shopping for a second, namjoon looked you in your eyes and thrust slowly as he was too close and it felt too good.

"In close, but I don't wanna cum yet" he grunted, thrusting deeply in and out.

"Then cum when you can't hold it!" You urged, outta breathe enjoying the depends. "I'm fine with children" you explained. Nodding, he continued and went harder this time.

His mouth roamed your chest, sucking and pulling on the bud as your back arched and mouth open in response. You this time, grinded back cgroundhim to jolt forward and start panting.

"Fuck don't do that unless you-" you interrupted doing it again. Pushing your legs back and open wide he started hammering into you as you began screaming in both pleasure and slight pain. You scratched his back and he immediately let go of your thighs snd pushed your hands back. As your body began to shake under him, he went faster as his chest heaved in breathing and yours became flushed with red. He started to let his enjoyment show more and tilted his head back with his eyes close as he went faster. He allowed the sounds of your whimpering snd moans to fulfill his urge as his balls smack your body hard causing a loud moan to come out from him.

Moving his hips to go at a slightly different angle than before, he noticed you started dripping more and more causing your heat to became more and more pleasurable on his end. He leaned down to your chest and held you as he began moaning in ecstasy as a thick load covered your walls in white.

Stoping and catching his breath, he mouthed something so simple but daring and that was simple.

"Don't leave me"

To which you replied softly. "I won't"

Soon the both of you gained the energy to get in the tub. There you two conversate on what it was like for him to be the king and all, what he planned on doing, and where he wanted to do next.

"Please come back to the castle with me tonight?" He begged, holding his hands with yours.

" I don't wanna be a drag" you looked down.

"You won't, I promise you'll enjoy your new life" he stated happily as ever.

"Namjoon don't you think it's too fast, we just met and all." You mentioned.

"Right, that is an undeniable truth. However, I know you felt the same way I did snd I know this isn't a fairy tale. But I truly feel like we could have a life" he spoke, holding your hands to his chest. Yes, that was true, you did believe in fate snd everything. But this was soon and so much.

"I'll go, but you have to let me have the ability to leave, " you said sadly, bring you to his chest he nodded and turned your body around in the tub.

From there you two did what was needed and packed a small bag of hygiene snd the coffee from earlier to go. You two had to walk back to the castle without being seen or heard at all. Which called for a few close times of being caught, from there he showed you a secrete gate entrance that led straight towards his room. From there, he tried his best to pick you up and take you to his room. there which Mrs. Pot sat praying

"I'm home and I brought a guest" he mentioned putting you down. As she recognized Mrs. Pot, she immediately went to hug her.

"It's been a while, my dear, I remember when you were both sized. I see you ran into the king, ah I knew he would've found you. I mean he's always had an eye on elegance and beauty" she mentioned embracing you tightly and pinching her cheek the same way she did with namjoon.

"I'll tell the guards your home" she looked at namjoon winking. Itching his head as he smiled, he turned to you and stripped naked again.

This time he leaned on the top of you again and you immediately kissed back. "It's a yes" you knew immediately as he took off your clothes once again that same night. Only this time, he focused on filling you up till he couldn't anymore.

"Fuck, this is amazing" he cursed, moving his hips harder as you who was behind sensitive began moaning his name louder and louder. Your legs opened wider and pools of arousal soaked the bed, making him lose control once more in you before pulling you close and moaning in your neck. Spilling once more, he simply uttered

"I love you"

"I love you too"

#namjoon smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fics #bts fanfction #bts angst #bts #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon #namjoon angst #namjoon x you #joonie

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shushiyuii · 3 years

Text

Adopt a Mortal

@smogs-0 Oh Smoggy~ Your angst is here, and only you can decide if there will be a part 2 or not~

Warnings: Zombies (which means this will contain mentions of death, injury, death and maybe other subjects. Be advised). Swearing. Apocalypse.

Words: 1.5K+

It’s been 3 weeks since the outbreak.

He didn’t know how he made it so far, he’s barely escaped any encounters with those monsters. Zombies as the others call them, which he honestly called bullshit on.

Not to mention but food had almost become rare at this point, so many had taken it for granted and themselves, hoping to be the only ones to survive. But a majority of the population was already gone, including his own parents so no doubt that food went somewhere.

His own group was fucked up, he ended up with them by chance. They almost killed him, to begin with, but decided they could use his agility and slim figure to their advantage of tight spaces and stuff. Which he hated but it was the only chance he had at survival.

He was now on his own in a world of Zombies. Trust nobody.

…

It’s been 3 months since the outbreak.

He was shoved to the floor, kicked by another member. “Little shit! You’re just dead weight!”, “It’d be better if we left him for dead”.

They took away his belongings, leaving him unarmed. He ran away and as he did, he heard their screams. Zombies were coming and his ‘group’ just died like complete idiots. His arms covered his stomach as he limped in pain, this was going to be a difficult situation to get out of.

…

He slammed his hand over his mouth, trying to be as silent as possible as a couple of Zombies wandered around aimlessly, hoping to catch their next piece of delicious prey. if he were to get into one of their sights. He’d be dead in an instant.

He was unarmed as stupid as it was.

Whatever he didn’t want to die here.

…

One month since the outbreak.

Hunger was all he felt for the longest time, he wondered. He didn’t remember who he was. Not that he cared, he had no control. He only wanted to eat, hunt. His reasoning. The thought of meat making in growl in excitement.

That all changed when he followed a horde of Zombies towards the humans. They shot and yelled, fearing for their lives. They were terrified, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him and the others was that their hunger was satisfied.

…

He got shot, in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it but he did stumble. In the distance, he heard, “You imbecile! That was the prototype!”. Whatever it is afterwards the humans got away.

He slumped against the wall of a corner shop, feeling oddly tired and fell asleep.

…

He woke up, with thoughts screaming at him. He looked around in confusion as knowledge flowed through his newly working brain. He was confused, scared. What happened? He wasn’t like this before?

He stood up, stumbling. He looked to the shoulder of his trench coat, the shot of the clothing being there but his skin had almost regenerated as if it had never happened.

He ran into the crowd of nearby Zombies, he pushed into them. Getting no reaction, he was sentient, and the others weren’t. Had that bullet done something to him?

…

3 months since the outbreak.

He’s learnt that he’s become different to the other zombies, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s more aware than them, almost as if he were a human in a zombie’s body.

He learnt his name was Wilbur by the wallet and ID in his pocket. Which was good to know, not only that but he no longer felt that hunger, nothing actually. He felt no pain, sensation or anything.

But one thing he did feel was more powerful and stronger. He learnt he could easily flip over cars and change his size at will, which came in handy for hard-to-reach places. Not only that but any wound he sustained was easily recovered from, barely leaving a scar.

He hadn’t yet encountered humans, probably because there weren’t many left.

He had managed to create a place of his own in an apartment with a broken mirror, it did him good with a desk to write on, a guitar he could surprisingly play, a comfortable bed, everything he needed.

He looked in the mirror, he was outrageously pale, but not that green colour other zombies had, he was missing an eye that his hair easily covered, and his beanie covered up parts of his exposed skull. Which left him looking rather human.

…

He wandered the streets a while since he really had nothing better to do. That was until something caught his attention, zombies were crowding around a particular shop with curiosity. It made him curious as to what was going on.

He followed them inside and wandered for a while, then he saw them. What had caught the zombies interest but had not been picked up by them yet. It seems that the human had managed to narrowly getaway and was now narrowly avoiding them.

The human stared at him in horror, his bright blue eyes striking Wilbur. His hair was blonde but covered in dirt, not to mention that the boy himself was covered in dust, dirt and dried blood. The human was barely covered in protection with just a red and white t-shirt, trousers and recked shoes. How had he gotten this far?

He crouched down to the human, “Hey…”. He whispered, “What are you doing here kid?”. The human’s eyes furrowed at the nickname. “Trying to get away here! Dickhead!”. The boy whisper-yelled. “Well, you aren’t doing a very good job at it!”. He whisper-yelled back.

He pinched his nose and sighed, “Get to the back room as soon as you hear a sound, I’ll distract them.”, “What? That’s a death sentence!”, “Don’t worry about me! Worry about yourself!”.

Wilbur then crawled his way to the other side of the shop, not wanting to get suspicion from the human. He then grabbed a pan from a nearby shelf and threw it to a nearby shelf, which caused enough noise to gain the zombie's attention, making their way over there.

He then saw the backroom door open, he then made his way over there quietly. Once he made it and shut the door. The boy was already barricading it, making sure no zombies made their way in.

“Thanks, man, had no idea how I’d get outta that one. Names, Tommy”. Interesting, the human's name was Tommy, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wilbur. What are you doing out in a place like this? You look a bit young to be on your own if I’m honest”.

“Hey! I’m a grown man! And uh- my group left me to die”. The boy seemed upset by that fact, looking away. “Well, they’re assholes. Don’t worry about em’ you can stick with me for now if you want.”. Wait- he didn’t mean- “Really?”.

“Yeah, don’t mind helping for a little bit”. Great, why did he agree? Now he was stuck with a child.

…

The human then began to rummage through what seemed to be boxes of already looted stuff. He managed to find an old backpack with some small tins of food and water left in a small crate. Not only that but a small dagger to defend himself with, he seemed quite exciting when he found it.

“So, Wil. How’d you end up in the outbreak?”, he asked as he continued to rummage through crates. Wilbur took a minute to answer, one thing was he the human- Tommy didn’t know he was a zombie, not only that but even himself didn’t know how he became a zombie.

“Uhh, kinda just ended up in the place?”. “Oh, you didn’t have family or anything”, “No?”. “Ah, well for me my parents died in a car crash when the outbreak hit, now I’m on my own since my group left me”.

“Why did they leave you?”, “said I was deadweight, which wasn’t true. I did most of the shit they wanted”. “Forget em’ they aren’t worth it”. “I realised that thanks again, for the save.”. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it”.

The two then made their way out of the building, then got stuck by a wall. “Give me a hand will you?” he asked as he clumsily tried to climb the wall. Wilbur then gave him a boost and he climbed over, not without giving Wilbur his own hand to help him up.

Wilbur grabbed his hand, “Woah! You got a good grip!”. “I- yeah. Guess so”. He then helped Wilbur up the wall and the two continued their way to safety…

…

The two ran as fast as they could from the racing zombies, perhaps the two were a little bit too reckless with noise and were now getting chased down by a horde of Zombies. They ran into alleyways, alley after alley.

Eventually, though, they got cornered. Tommy brought his knife, prepared to defend his life. “Stay behind me!”, “What? Are you crazy?!”, “STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled as he kept the boy behind him.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #sizeshifter!Wilbur #tiny!tommy #Shushi's writings

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written-beyond-the-grave · 3 years

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Mikaelsons Black History Month

First off, I’m starting by saying that even though it is no longer Black history month it will always be melanin everyday and black people every day. And everything else under the sun, and if you don’t like it then the exit is to your left. Everything you own in the box to the left

Being part of the Mikaelsons is very fickle business and be some bs. Like really, you’re here with supernatural beings who are over 1000 years old. Who have traveled the world, gained endless knowledge, seen a lot of bloodshed, but you know what they haven’t seen? Their token human (black ofc) being ignant for black history month, I mean who even fully celebrates? How does one even celebrate?

Granted, they’re not racist. But with the writing Julie Pleck did she was playing honestly. That was the worst writing I've ever seen since who knows when. Maybe the nine lives of Chloe king or something? But in my originals universe they were probably racist in the beginning to an extent then grew out of it.

Anyways, they never met someone who celebrated until they met you!

Now repeat after me: I’m black y’all, and I’m black y’all. And I’m black and black and black y’all! FYM

Now…. picture this: A moderately quiet day in the Mikaelson household. Kol is minding his business for once, Rebekah is trying to find the perfect pics for her next instagram post, Elijah is enjoying a good read, and Klaus is organizing his art materials. But then here comes you, the human, opening the door and walking right in like you pay bills (none of them do but you get the picture) in the midst of the most deadly people. Walking in and greeting everyone, walking in with the most hotep, Dr. Umar bullshit getup they ever seen. Coming to America headass.

They recognize your footsteps from a mile away, so when you walk into the kitchen and no one really looks up at first it’ll be a sight to see a whole ass pelted lion on your back. The kente cloth hat (no idea the actual name for it, sorry babes), a saber tooth necklace (for my mans T’Challa), and the red stiletto nails with the afro out here banging.

SHEEEEEEEEESH

Once Elijah is done with his page he looks up to greet you, but then stops… Bitch, fuck is you wearing? This was worlds away from the sweats, and skinny jeans you wore on the daily.

“Greetings Y/N you look…. Fashionable.” Mans didn’t know what to say. Did he miss something about your Africna roots? Was there a holiday he hadn’t heard of, doubt it, but what else was there?

“Thank you Elijah.” You fluff out your lion pelt for added effect, if there was ever going to be one time you outdo the Mikaelsons’ especially Elijah in being dramatic with a coat or cloak of somesort, it would be now.

At this point the Kol and Rebekah have already looked up and were confused. Why are you dressed like that?

Kol is the first one to speak up “Darling, Rebekah likes a fashion show more than anyone, but why do you have a lion… on your shoulder.”

Lifting up your large ass shades you supplied an answer: “Black History Month”

They all looked at each other… they didn’t get it. Like they know what it is, but never actually understood how to celebrate and all that nor did they ever actually give it mind. When you saw that they weren’t making a connection, you started phase 1.

“Alexa, you know what to do.”

And there goes their manor playing: NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA I’M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NIGGA

LMFAOOOOO you got the white people shook. Klaus just dropped one of his expensive ass bottles of art sealants and is vamp speeding to the kitchen to figure out what the hell is going on. Elijah having a mid century crisis on how tf they even found you and deemed you worthy of being in their presence so casually. Kol is having fun in the back, still laughing at your get up. And Rebekah wishes she went to the mall instead, she wanted a girl bestie and got you instead rip

“WHAT IN BLAZES- Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DO- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING! ALEXA STOP THE MUSIC-” And the big bad wolf has arrived. You put your finger to Klaus’ lips which stuns him bc… you’re still HOOOMAN like damn, death wish much? And you look this man, straight in his mit and say “Looks at, look at me” and pause for dramatic affect, “I am the captain now”

Room silent as hell till Kol starts cackling

You’ve made Dr. Umar proud, the ancestors are shining on you once again

With that you lead into a whole speech about the black struggle and black history month, bottom line: REPARATIONS. Because being the only nigga in the Mikaelsons (we don’t claim Marcel) is exhausting, white people shit everyday that you complain about in their faces

TBH at this point they’re indulging you in this escapade.

First victim is Elijah, you ask for his wallet. He gives you a look, I mean he does technically give you what you want and whatever (when y’all dating, refer back to my dating Elijah post), so he ask you why. Reparations sis why, but then you stop yourself. This man gives you his wallet every other day, half the time you not even asking. What could you rob this man of…. Ah. You ask him for the deed of one of his estates in Prague, why? Because you bitches can’t even spell Prague. And under section S line 45 subsection Y it does state that estates are eligible for reparations. Fuck 40 acres and a mule, you got 300 acres, some stallions in the back, a quite possibly haunted mansion, and a heavy dicked (yeah I said it, a sis been trying to reality shift) original who will turn you out by the end of the day and the end of the month…. Wait till women's history month boo

We know his pockets figgity fat, and it would be figgity wack to not get some

Ngl you take Kol with you so he can buy you food. Granted, he knows what you’re doing, but if he’s going to spend money on anything it will be thawed and it will be music. However, one thing leads to another and you’re both at Wal-Mart waiting to find a parking spot. You stole one off a white minivan trying to move in. Not thinking anything of it because who in this small ass Mystic Falls ass, clown ass town really about it? Apparently Karen.

But you know who else what about it? Kol (tbh mans had nothing but time, and he claims you so why tf not.) he out here NY stomping on her and coming at her for badly glued extensions. Cheap ass bitch, ain’t even blend in correctly.

After that Kol and you left with some groceries, a new story to tell, and a chopped cheese.

With Klaus, he frfr wasn’t finna do shit. Being ordered my a human? Lmfao, go find another simp sis. But… once you suggest that his art skills may not be up to par on what you have in mind as a new family room piece for your house he’s all ears. He knows what you’re doing, but… he still wants to prove you wrong. But anyways, you give him a theme… reverse racism. IK y’all, it’s not a thing, but mans has ideas. And he outdoes himself. That and the recreation of the moorish chief bc that man...mmmmm that man was giving.

Ok so Google wanna hoe me, but there was a painting of a black man in a kkk cloak and behind him were white people being hung from a tree. Say what you want, but that photo was fire. If any of you seen it please share it below.

Anyways

Rebekah tbh wants no part in this, but I feel like she’d gave when you ask her to give you all the finest dresses bc it’s an excuse to exhaust Klaus’ money.

Through the month you give the Mikaelsons a run for their money, and maybe sanity. Klaus is in the back trying to research who tf Dr. Umar is and why is he your inspiration

They had to pull you back when the sheriff asked you for your ID. You ask why you needed white man paperwork!

You are pleasing the spirits, what bonnie could never do lmfaooooo. The powers of you enemies aren’t prospering this month nor next month.

You’re not poor this month, anything you poor of is pouring a little more (bars nigga)

LMFAOOOO imaging asking the fam to go to paris, like, they not invited it’s a self trip funded my the Mikaelson Y/N Trust Fund of Public Decency ™

Klaus would be the first one to speak because this man is TIRED, “Love, why do you need a trip to paris? What’s in Paris?”

Knowing better, you look to Kol to answer the question, “I don’t know, Kol, who’s in Paris?” Niggas b. Niggas in paris…. Lemme chill

LMFAOOO enjoy

#klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd x reader #the originals #black reader #black!reader #poc!reader #poc reader #niggasbelike

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you.

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x you #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfic #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfictions #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp fic #jatp imagine #collecting stories imagine

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wistfulcynic · 3 years

Text

from one minute to the next

A little something inspired by the prompts @winterbythesea posted here and here and here. This is not those prompts exactly (nor is it what I outlined on the discord, sorry guys) but I think it carries the same lighthearted dumbass energy as they do.

Also, Killian Jones does not know what a ‘date’ is. Fight me, show.

Summary: Emma’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow she finds herself going from single and solitary in the city one minute to smoothly co-parenting with her ex, living with a pirate, and at home in a town full of storybook characters the next.

Home. She never thought she’d have one of those.

This is the story of how she got there.

(also no! curse! renaissance! 3B divergence without Pan’s curse)

<3k words Rated T

AO3

from one minute to the next:

Emma was never entirely certain how it happened.

One minute she was telling Neal she didn’t want to get back together with him, that it was just too late for them now, and he was looking sad but in a resigned sort of way, as though he regretted the truth of her words while still recognising that they were true.

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to August. I shouldn’t have left you like that. If I hadn’t…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. They both knew how different things would have been if he hadn’t left her. And they both knew that it was far too late to undo what had been done. The only option left was to move on.

“We found each other again, though,” she reminded him. “And we found Henry.”

“You mean Henry found us.”

“Yeah, that’s probably more accurate.”

They shared a chuckle, and for the briefest moment the years fell away and she remembered why she’d fallen for him. And for the first time since she’d run him down in a New York alleyway, Emma looked at Neal and she felt hopeful.

“Anyway,” she said, “Henry wants both of us in his life. He deserves that, and I think he needs it. And I think for it to work we need to try to be friends.”

“No hard feelings, then?” Neal asked, hopefully.

Emma hesitated.

What did she feel for Neal? There was still affection, of course there was—the stubborn remnants of a passionate first love that she doubted would ever fully die. There was resentment too, a lot of it, and a lot of hurt. A fair bit of anger. So yeah, there were some hard feelings, but there also wasn’t much point in attempting to hash any of them out with Neal. Not when they needed to move forward.

She produced a smile, slightly stiff at the edges but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Sure. No hard feelings.”

Neal’s face broke into a grin, the wide, happy kind that crinkled his eyes and once upon a time would have sent Emma’s heartbeat into overdrive. Now it just made her think of another crinkly grin, one far rarer and all too often tinged with sadness.

“Neal,” she said. “I’ve got to go.”

The next minute she was at the docks, breathing deeply and gathering her courage, looking up at the Jolly Roger and hoping Hook—Killian—would be there, in his cabin, maybe with his flask and one of the books that lined his shelves. More than once these past few weeks she’d caught him tucked up in a corner somewhere, reading, and Belle informed her that he actually had a library card.

“He didn’t have the required ID,” she’d said with a little smirk. “But I think we all know who he is.”

Emma was pretty sure she did know that, now, and the knowledge propelled her forward, onto the deck of the ship then down to his cabin where she knocked firmly on his door and shivered a bit when his voice called for her to enter.

He looked up, surprise registering on his face followed swiftly by the delight he could never quite conceal when he saw her.

“Swan,” he purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Emma’s heart was pounding and her throat dry, and honestly it was ridiculous to be this nervous, it wasn’t like he was going to say no.

“I’m, um. Heretoaskyouout,” she blurted.

He frowned. “To what?”

Emma drew a deep breath and tried again. “Ask you out.”

“Out of where?”

“What? No. What?”

“Where do you want me to go out of? This is my ship.”

Emma resisted the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Of course he didn’t know what ‘ask you out’ meant, he was like a thousand years old. “No, no, I mean out on a date,” she explained. Tried to explain anyway, though his confusion just grew more apparent. “Like, to dinner or something. You and me. Out.”

“Ah. Ah.”

She watched as he turned the unfamiliar phrase over in his head, watched his eyes brighten with interest at learning a new thing, then when he finally realised fully what it meant she watched a rosy pink flush creep across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears.

He swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was gruff. “Let me be certain I understand. You want us, as in you and me, to go someplace and eat dinner together. Just—just us?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“And in this realm that is called a date?”

“Yeah.”

“And am I to understand that there are… romantic connotations to these dates?”

‘Romantic connotations’, she thought, for fuck’s sake, and did her best to ignore the fluttery feeling she always got in her belly whenever he broke out the big words. Aloud she said “Yeah.”

“I see.” He swallowed again. “And when do you propose we have this date?”

“Um. Tonight?”

Aaand there it was, that wide and crinkly grin that made the blood rush far too recklessly through her veins, this time with no sadness lurking behind his eyes. None at all.

“Tonight it is, then,” he said.

One minute Emma was alone and telling herself she was content to be so, the next she had parents and a son and an ex who was almost a friend, and she was dating. Dating Hook, which she told herself firmly was only weird if she thought too hard about it. She wasn’t actually dating Captain Hook, of course she wasn’t. That would be ridiculous. No, she was dating Killian Jones—who was surprisingly, endearingly, sweet and nervous about it at first, like he wasn’t entirely certain her interest was real and was doing his utmost to tread carefully.

Emma didn’t want him always on his best behaviour, though, and while Killian was wonderful she knew that both of them still needed at least a little bit of Hook. And so it was that after their third date, when Henry was with Neal and Emma had made it very clear to her parents that they were not to expect her home before morning, that she and Killian stumbled back to his ship tipsy on rum but drunk on each other, and she made certain he understood exactly how interested she was.

It was very. She was very interested.

And when they awoke the next morning and she groaned at the glaring sunlight and pressed her face into his neck, muttering that it was too damn early and she needed caffeine, he ran his fingers through her hair and informed her he had a coffeemaker in his galley.

She pulled back and blinked at him. “You what?”

He flushed slightly, though with a pleased grin. “I asked Granny and she showed me what I needed, and helped me buy it.”

“But why? You don’t drink coffee.”

He shrugged. “It’s growing on me. And besides, I thought—well, I hoped—that you might want to spend some time aboard ship in the future and, well, I want you to feel comfortable here and to have the things you like.”

She stared at him for a moment as his flush deepened, then surged forward and kissed him, wrapped herself tightly around him and kissed him and kissed him until they were both breathless and the coffee forgotten until much, much, much later.

Another minute passed and they were marking six months together. Emma had rented a place of her own, nothing fancy but hers, and she and Killian were spending most of their nights there. Her bed was bigger than the bunk in his cabin, softer and with actual springs, and her parents, Granny, and Ruby had all chipped in to buy her an espresso machine. Small but serviceable, like her apartment. Granny taught both her and Killian how to use it—and honestly, Emma thought, you haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen a shirtless pirate with a hook for a hand whip up a latte on a Sunday morning—and she was, tentatively, happy.

Very happy.

She didn’t see too much of Neal. He spent time with Henry of course and with Belle, renovating the pawn shop and brightening it a bit, removing what traces they could of the Dark One’s influence. She also knew he was volunteering at the convent where the Lost Boys lived, helping them get accustomed to life in Storybrooke and make it their home.

He might also, she suspected, have become somewhat more than friends with Tink.

And then one night Emma and Killian had dinner at a new place by the docks, where they gorged on seafood and drank a bit too much wine and decided, for safety and for old times’ sake, to spend the night on the Jolly Roger rather than trying to get home.

Home. She had a home now, and a man who as good as lived there with her. She should really get around to asking him to live there officially, she knew. She kept meaning to. She wanted to, she truly did. But as conversations go that one felt so weighty and so significant that she wanted to be sure to do it right and so in the end she’d done nothing at all—nothing except feel that little bit more guilty each time Killian asked her politely if it was all right for him to stay.

Yes, she wanted to tell him. Stay forever. Soon she would.

They stumbled onto the ship and to his cabin, foolish and messy in a way they hadn’t been for a while. Emma realised she had missed this a bit, the dark, almost feral look in Killian’s eyes when he was just this shade of drunk and she was naked in his bed on his ship.

“You are… so beautiful, Emma,” he growled against her throat as his fingers tangled in her hair. “Have I told you how you steal my breath away?”

“Not for at least an hour,” she teased.

“Remiss of me.”

“Mmm. However will you… ohhh… make it up to me?”

He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, I have one or two ideas.”

They woke late the next morning as was their habit on a Sunday, and Emma groaned as the light pierced her eyelids and straight through her throbbing head.

“Killian.” She poked him in the ribs.

“Mmphh,” he replied.

“You still have your… thing. Right? Coffee thing? In the galley?”

“Aye.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked. “I believe there’s aspirin in there as well.”

Emma turned her poking finger into a caressing one, stroking him with the tip of it. “Killian,” she said again, in a wheedling tone.

“It’s your turn to make the coffee and you know it, Swan,” he replied, in his pirate captain voice.

She huffed. He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” She flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, snatched his shirt from the floor and threw it on, buttoning it just enough to keep it from flapping when she walked. “I’m guessing you don’t have milk though.”

“Certainly not any in a drinkable state. Though there should be some of that horrid creamer.”

She perked up. “Cinnamon?”

“What else?”

In the galley Emma found the coffeemaker and an open packet of coffee that smelled surprisingly fresh given how long it had been since they’d last slept here. There was also the cinnamon creamer, unopened, and a big bottle of aspirin. One minute she was pulling everything off the shelves and turning to set them on the table, and the next the door was swinging open and a person walking through it, and Emma found herself colliding sharply with a bare chest. A familiar bare chest. A familiar bare chest that was not Killian’s.

“Neal!” she shrieked, dropping everything in her arms. “What the fuck!”

“Emma!” He looked equally stunned. “What the—what are you doing here?”

“Here on my—on Hook’s ship, you mean?” My boyfriend’s ship, she wanted to say, but calling a 300-year-old pirate a boyfriend was something she still couldn’t do, however objectively true it may be.

“The ship he said I could use whenever I needed it?” countered Neal. “Yeah, that one!”

“He said you could use his ship?”

“Uh huh, he did. When I, you know.” A shifty look crept onto his face. “Wanted privacy.”

“Priva-oh!” Emma’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. Neal was still living in his father’s house. The house where Belle also lived. “Um. I see.”

“Yeah.” Neal didn’t meet her eyes. “But why are you here, don’t you have your own place now?” he demanded. “I thought Hook lived with you.”

“Not officially,” she muttered. “And we, um, had a bit to drink last night at that new seafood place and you know.” She shrugged. “The ship was closer.”

“Huh. Well that explains those noises I heard last night.”

Emma was just about to ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean when the door opened again and a voice called “Why don’t I smell coff—oh! Um. Hi Emma.”

Emma pressed her thumbs against her temples. “Hey, Tink.”

The fairy was dressed identically to how Emma herself was, only the shirt she wore was Neal’s. An old Metallica tee because of course.

“Well,” said Tink. “That explains those noises we heard.”

Neal nodded.

“What noises—” Emma began, then the door opened again.

“Did you find everything, love—oh. Er.” Killian appeared in the room wearing only his jeans and without his hook. He scratched behind his ear. “Hello, friends and enemies.”

“Hook,” said Tink and Neal.

“Killian,” said Emma. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You never told me you were letting Neal stay here.”

“Ah. I did offer him use of the first mate’s quarters whenever he was seeking a bit of privacy, yes. If you remember, love, my quarters proved invaluable in that respect when you were still living with your parents.”

Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. “Yeah,” she muttered.

“I merely thought Neal and Tink could do with a bit of the same benefit. And you know the Jolly gets lonely if she’s left by herself for too long. Although,” Killian favoured Neal and Tink with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “I did make that offer quite some time ago now. And I don’t believe I said anything about staying here.”

“Yeah, well.” Neal’s face took on that belligerent look he got when he was feeling defensive. “I don’t want to move out of Papa’s place and leave Belle alone.”

“Are you kidding me?” Emma demanded.

Everyone stared at her. “What?” asked Neal.

“Belle’s seeing Ruby.”

“Ruby?”

“Yeah. For like three months now. Ruby’s constantly moaning about how they can’t stay at her place because Granny’s got wolf hearing and they can’t go to Belle’s because it’s full of you. Trust me, Belle will be okay if you move out.”

“Oh,” said Neal blankly. “Well. Fuck.”

Emma looked around the room, at her current boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend who was also her current boyfriend’s ex… something, all of them in varying states of dishevelment, hangover, and undress, and she started to laugh.

“Yeah,” she said. “That about sums it up.”

So Emma never did quite figure out how it happened, but somehow she ended up with a home of her own in a fairy tale town with fairy tale friends and a pirate boyfriend, where one minute she was drinking coffee in a ship’s galley with a group of people who knew each other far too intimately for anyone’s comfort and the next her ex and his girlfriend were her neighbours and her pirate was living at her place for good—at their place, now—and her son was bouncing happily between the two apartments save at least one night a week that he spent at Regina’s. She and Neal co-parented better than she could ever have hoped, and every morning she woke up to blue eyes warm with love and lattes made precisely how she liked them.

And, well. Emma’s happiness wasn’t tentative anymore.

She was happy. Really happy. Truly happy. So happy that when she came home one evening to find the kitchen smoke alarm shrieking and Henry teetering on a stool waving a towel at it as Killian and Neal grappled with some foamy, hissing, smoking substance on the countertop, she wasn’t even mad.

“What the hell do you idiots think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Ems!”

“Mom!”

“Swan!”

“It’s not what it looks like!” they cried in unison.

Emma shook her head. “I’m going next door,” she said. “To have a beer with Tink. This,” she gestured vaguely at the room, “had better be dealt with by the time I get back.”

As she turned and headed back out the door, the last thing she heard were three furious voices.

“Now look what you’ve done!”

“What I’ve done! It was your idea!”

“And I still don’t have a science project!”

Emma grinned, and shut the door firmly behind her.

---

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @mariakov81 @stahlop @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @thesschesthair @courtorderedcake @everything-person @katie-dub

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #3b canon divergence #cs canon divergence #no curse renaissance #captain swan #captain swanfire #tinker bae #or whatever tf neal and tink's ship name is #it should be tinker bae my dudes #anyway #this is all very silly #but it should make you laugh #happy friday #profdanglaisstuff #from one minute to the next

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

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Ashens (Part 7)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,235 words

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Chapter Summary: Some of Bucky's inner feelings towards Y/N gets revealed on their first day on their own.

Full Masterpage | Part 6

STEVE was the one who tightened your velcro backpack around your small shoulders.

You continued to stare into the rising sun behind the blowing trees. It must’ve been a little after 5 AM, since the orange clouds were beginning to mix in with the dark blue of a new sky, announcing the arrival of a brand new day.

Today was the first day of your mission with Bucky, and to say you were fixated on your ultimate goal was an understatement.

The camp didn’t have a running shower, but they had a secluded and private area off to the side that provided warm water and some soap made with lye and lard. The water had to be heated up overnight by an attended fire and then left for an hour before you had to get ready to let it cool down.

When one of the girls had handed you the freshly made bar, the look she gave you scared you.

She had a certain fear in them that you couldn’t quite place and it shook you to the bone.

Was she unhopeful for your return?

When you had entered the little shower, which was just four pieces of wood tall enough to cover your most intimate areas, and you dunked your mud cup into the warm water, you definitely felt like you were being prepared like a sacrificial lamb.

You felt like you were being cleansed and prepared for death.

But as you rinsed away the lye off your skin, and you shuddered against the cold winter air which was beginning to feel like sharp knives, you quickly shoved those thoughts away.

You had to focus on your goal and what it was you were actually being prepared for. This was your opportunity to give your parents what they deserve; the outcome they would want.

After your shower, you quickly dried yourself off with a long and grey rag that had been draped over the “door” for you, and you slid your arms into your heavy coat.

Quickly, to avoid getting the flu that could potentially kill you faster than any other virus ever could, you ran into your tent and slid on your attire.

It was the same one you had worn before you arrived, but Jessica had been extremely kind to you and had it washed and folded stacked neatly next to your cot.

After you zipped on your boots, Steve had shown up and ran the information with you before your departure.

None of you knew exactly how life in The Capitol was.

There had been just one agent who had ever been close enough, and it had been about a year ago.

Bucky had sent Sharon to collect information that would be vital to help their mission, including how the people in The Capitol dressed, how they wore their hair, how they behaved, and if they used any kind of special currency.

Apparently, the clothing they wore, you would have to buy when you got there. It would be possible for the camp to try and knit them so that when you arrived you would fit in right away, but unfortunately, it would not protect you during the three-day walk to get there.

There was nothing different regarding hair or currency, which was a very helpful piece to learn. It meant you and Bucky would not need to go under any crazy makeovers.

Any specific makeup look or hairdo you preferred, you were free to do as you pleased when you arrived.

The only tricky part of getting into The Capitol and not being caught was your identification.

Anyone who resided within The Wall carried a hologram ID that presented your picture, name, resident number, and occupation.

If there was anything Tony Stark left behind, it was his knowledge and technology that had been left behind and protected.

You don’t know how they managed to save nearly all of it from the war and the bombing, but you didn’t ask questions. It didn’t surprise you that the avengers would go through such measures to have a legacy and vital equipment protected.

It had been just enough for Bruce to take it into his own hands and build an almost identical replica of the hologram ID that you and Bucky would need to present in order to do simple tasks like request a hotel room or enter an important building.

You didn’t take Bruces’ hard work for granted; apparently it had taken almost a year and a half just for him to make them.

It would still be a risk when you used your identification because even though your resident number was chosen with an advanced Linux method if it were to hit a miss in Hydra’s system, you and Bucky could be screwed.

Your arrival in the city would simply be accepted by luck.

Steve continued to tighten your backpack as he reminded you of what would happen when you and Bucky both arrived there.

First and utmost important, you would need to find a place to live. According to Sharon, there was a residency area not too far from the center of the city. You would go there and try to get a room.

Next, you and Bucky would need to discover your surroundings.

What was Hydra doing there? Where is Hydra’s main building? Were there anyone there that could possibly be there against their will? How did The Capitol work? What was life there like?

You would then need to set up your false identity, which would be the majority of the mission.

Once you both found where Hydra’s main focus was and from where they worked, you would need to find your way in. You would need to gather as much intel and information about everyone as much as you could.

That is when the team had presented you with an additional ID card, except this one was physical and just a regular white laminated card.

It was a resumé and well thought out employment card, which you and Bucky would use to apply at a Hydra Facility (but not the same one to not induce suspicion). This was an important key to the mission that both you and Bucky were reluctant on participating on, but after much consideration, it was concluded it was essential to winning this.

After you found out everything you both needed to know, after the six months, you would both escape and return to camp with the intel and information gathered that could successfully bring The Capitol’s society down.

One of them being the ring leader’s location. It would be important to the mission to not have anything destroyed, especially The Wall.

This was the part of the mission you did not like.

Because you would not leave The Capitol without having that man from the diner killed.

Part of you felt bad for secretly planning how to divert the avenger’s plan, but at the same time, you now knew that Bucky was also planning something that could potentially shock everyone.

You considered saying something to Steve as he made sure you had everything in your pack - food, blankets, med kit, and a gun with a silencer (the only thing you were allowed) - but you went against it as you remembered your promise to him.

He wanted you to help Bucky love himself again and to feel like he was meant for something more.

As you both walked out of the tent and fully into the outside world, right away you saw Bucky already strapping his own bag over his shoulder.

You know his bag held the same things yours did, except his held a military gun that would serve to protect you during the walk.

Unfortunately, you would not be allowed to take any weapons with you into the city. They would be left dug into a hole and abandoned.

Your heart skipped in your chest as you observed his dominating aura.

He wore attire similar to yours, except a male version. He had a black coat with a hood that strapped across the front of his chest. Attached to it was a hood similar to yours. You could tell he had layers of clothing under his jacket for protection, and his pants were thick and tucked into heavy boots.

A pair of leather gloves covered his hands. He was tightening the one over his metal arm when he looked over at you.

His eyes were dark and his teeth clenched as he looked you up and down. You quickly looked away and back at Steve.

Steve was tightening your tracker around your wrist.

“Remember, this will only keep you off their radar for ninety seconds and it can only be activated twice. You can only use it when you enter and leave the city,” you were in a daze as you felt the need to look up at Bucky again. The pull was inevitable, “Y/N,” Steve’s tone was sturdy and you blinked at him, “Got it?”

He looked at you apprehensively, his grip tight over your hand. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Got it. Just twice. Entering and leaving.”

He nodded and pulled the sleeves of your coat halfway up both hands.

He gave you one more look and then nodded with his head towards Bucky, backing away from you, and walking towards Bucky’s direction.

You flexed your toes in your boots and held tightly onto the handles of your bag.

You took a deep breath and followed Steve towards Bucky.

Bucky looked at his boots and flexed his hands.

You didn’t realize how much bigger he was than you until now. Maybe it was his clothing, maybe.

You cleared your throat and he looked up at you through heavy lashes.

You wondered where he had been this morning while you were showering. It’s then that you catch sight of his heavy and dark bags under his eyes. Had he been up all night?

“Didn’t sleep?” Your question comes out before you mean it to and Bucky’s gaze quickly darkens.

“No.”

You sigh deeply, not knowing if you were more annoyed by his attitude towards you that clearly hadn’t changed or if you felt bad. You hoped his lack of sleep wouldn’t create more crankiness or mess-ups.

“Unlike you, I don’t need it.” He adds. He looks up towards the sky, making his sharp jaw visible to you and you curse the world for making him so attractive. You wondered then what kind of boyfriend he was to Daisy. And you wonder about the rumor of him and the Wakanda girl. Did he sleep with her? Was he good? Your questions in your head are interrupted as he continues, “We should get going. The sun is getting brighter and we can’t afford to lose one more day.”

Steve looked at you both like you were his two children going off to their first day of college and then he saluted you both goodbye.

Not one word was shared as you followed Bucky into the woods until what felt like three hours later.

The entire way, he hadn’t been kind enough to slow down for you, so you trailed behind him by at least fifteen feet.

You didn’t want to admit to defeat, but your lungs were burning and your legs were too. It wasn’t until he briefly stopped that you thanked the heavens.

As you caught up to his side, you saw what he had paused to look at.

There in front of you was an entire city. It was destroyed, defeated, and reeking of death and evil.

The broken and sharp metal of what had once been pretty buildings were now pointed into the sky. Heavy dust with lingering smoke, that had never gone away, still floated above the city like a dark halo.

You swallowed painfully, thirsty, and afraid.

Sure, he was an avenger, but the bacteria...

You looked at him, unsure.

“Bucky, we can’t go through the city. We have to stay on the outskirts,” he ignored you, taking a step forward and commencing his walk towards the city. You watched, unmoved, “It’s too dangerous, Bucky, we don’t know what is in that air—” You finally sighed and ran up to him, pulling on the sleeve of his coat, “Bucky—“

He quickly snapped around to look at you, “We are going through the city. You think I came all this way for safety? You think I care? You think I’m some kind of coward? That we’ll just be taking the easy way out for everything? Or do you actually have any courageous and strong bone in that pathetic body of yours?” His words attack your ego and you practically flinch at the last question, slowly letting go of his sleeve. He’s breathing hard through his nose and you watch as he runs a hand over his face. He points back with his metal arm, “It’s the quickest route. We’re on atimed schedule. I don’t have time for safety or convenience. I’ll go alone if that’s what it takes. Come with me or not.”

He doesn’t bother giving you another glance before commencing his walk into the destroyed city. You practically hear the howl of the wind and you pull the hood higher over your head.

You consider his words. You were trying to be safer, but he was right. This would be the quickest way and it wasn’t like you weren’t at least partially prepared for this.

You took a deep breath and followed him.

Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he was momentarily shocked when he saw you right next to him.

He took the first step into the pavement, a dry leaf crunch under his boot. The sound echoed in the air.

You were both faced with what once was the main road, fallen traffic lights and power lines lined the street.

Cars were overturned, some destroyed completely either by fire or vandalism. The buildings, if they weren’t destroyed, were broken into and also vandalized. Overgrown shrubs were beginning to grow over the street signs and into the cracks of the sidewalk.

It was also terrifying how quiet it was.

You didn’t trust it.

It was obvious Bucky was reluctant just as much as you because his pace matched yours, and at some point, he had even pulled out his gun.

Your eyes darted around as you passed the empty cars and buses. One of the cars even had what appeared to be kids' toys - a stuffed teddy bear and a baby mirror - and you shuddered looking away, not wanting to know what happened here.

Bucky’s gun followed his eyes and immediately you wondered how long its been that he’s left camp.

“How long has it been since you’ve been outside like this?” You ask.

He’s quiet as you both step over a fallen street sign that advertised some kind of clothing brand, and you take his silence as an answer, giving up.

“A while.”

You’re surprised that he responded and your eyebrows shoot up.

You wait a minute and take another bite.

“Not used to it anymore, huh?” He doesn’t respond, “I can tell.”

“Is this your idea of small talk?” He snaps.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. I’m stuck with you for the next six months, might as well.”

“No. I’m stuck with you.”

You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes. Your joyous walk continues for a few more miles until you both turn onto a street where a train now lies.

You both stare at it, confused and surprised, wondering how the hell it got there. But judging by the entry holes on the buildings on either side, it was obvious that it had probably been thrown by means of an explosion of some sort.

And you would both have to somehow get around it.

As you approached the train car, you and Bucky came to a halt.

“I’ll go first since I’m heavier. Make sure it doesn’t topple over or isn’t booty-trapped.” Bucky says, tightening his bag strap over his body, “Stand back.”

You did as you were told and watched from a small distance as he began to climb into one of the cars which had its doors still open. Some bodies that had been reduced to skeletons were still inside.

You held tightly onto the straps of your backpack, apprehensively.

Eventually, Bucky had hopped out on to the other side with a huff.

He turned to face you.

“Your turn.”

You took a deep breath and a step forward, the leaves and glass debris breaking under your feet.

Your eyes met, and once again it was like that first time he saw you in the tent.

You looked down at the cart cautiously before stepping onto it. You clenched and unclenched your right hand, and with your left, you used it to help hoist yourself onto the train.

It rocked beneath your weight with a heavy groan and your eyes shot up to his in fear.

He leaned his right arm on the side of the car for support, and with his left, he stretched it out for you to take.

You look down to where he stood on the ground, and you swallowed, scared at how far the jump looked.

He wiggled his fingers and you were about to stretch your own arm out to take his hand when you saw something move behind him.

A man.

“Oh, my God.”

It was too fast for you to even recollect what happened, but suddenly you were on top of Bucky. You were screaming and he was cursing and you saw the silhouette of the man next to you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky shouted, until fully turning around to see what you were looking at.

He cursed before pulling you behind him to shield you. He ran you both back towards a destroyed building on the far side of the street and finally aimed his gun at the man who was groaning, a green/black substance oozing out of his mouth like foam.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, sending multiple gunshots into the man’s chest. He fell forward onto the street, dead.

You stumbled back and found Bucky’s hold on you soothing before he roughly pulled away and looked down at you, disappointed.

“Seriously?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose, feeling the dig of the building behind you.

How dare he snap at you for protecting him.

“You asshole. He was about to —”

“I don’t need you to protect me. If anything, you made it worst.”

“How the hell did I make it worst?” Bucky snarled, “What if I fell on him, huh? What if we both did?”

“But we didn’t!” You could feel your heart in your veins; in your head.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he swung his gun back down, relaxing his stance.

“Jesus fuck.” He mumbled under his breath, walking away from you, “I don’t know how you survived three years. It’s like it’s a joke to you.”

You feel your tears in your eyes before you push yourself off the wall and walked right past him so this time you were the one leading the way.

“I do what I can.” You mumble.

“Pathetic is what you are.” You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t. Your pace grew faster as he continued on, “You don’t—” he grabbed onto your arm, making you quickly turn around and face him. You didn’t hide the tears and you knew very well he could see them. He looked into your eyes with his pretty blue ones, “You don’t hesitate to save your own life,” he tucked your scarf that had come loose tighter around your face, and for a second you thought maybe and finally, he had a change of heart. But his next words killed that as he stepped away, dropping his hand, “We can’t risk getting infected. And I can’t risk you getting me infected, either. I might be a super soldier, but we don’t know how that thing affects people like me.”

Him. It was always about him and his safety.

“What about me? What about me getting infected or killed?” He took a step closer to you.

“You signed up for this. You know the risk.”

He walked past you.

“So I should care about your life, but not about mine?”

“What I’m saying is you need to be careful.” You were about to say something else when he finished with, “Now tie your boots before you get us both killed by you tripping onto me.”

With a snarl, you looked down to see that, indeed, your left shoe was untied.

Shit.

An hour after your fight, the winds grew stronger and your visibility was down to two feet. You hadn’t spoken to each other since, and to be fairly honest, it’s not like you wanted to speak to him anyway.

After the winds had calmed down, you had both made it through the city and were now walking through what had once been crops. Now it was just coarse sand and rough rocks.

You wanted to ask him if you could rest for a few minutes, at least to have something to eat. But you were so afraid of what he would say to you.

But as you both walked and walked, it became harder.

Eventually, you stopped, and he also stopped to look at you. Your face was crestfallen.

“I’m not a super soldier like you. I need to eat. Maybe have a sip of water.”

Bucky looked you down but then turned and continued walking again.

You wanted to cry.

Did he want you down on your knees? Would that be enough for him?

After a few minutes, you reached forest land again.

You watched as Bucky walked off to the left side and sat against a tree.

You wanted to cry in relief.

You practically ran to him, sitting next to him against the tree. You pulled off your backpack and he did the same with his.

You both sat there, chewing on some nuts and fruits and sipping water.

Afterward, Bucky threw his eaten apple into the leaves and rested his head up against the tree.

You took that moment to observe him, but not making it too obvious.

Your promise to Steve resonates in your head.

He looked so young to you that you began to wonder how old he was, biologically. There was no way he was older than thirty-eight. You felt pity that he suffered so much so young.

“Can I ask you something?” You know you were fetching far. But screw it. His answer, was a tilt of his head and a peak of a blue iris at you, “how old are you?”

He squinted his eyes at you, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know you’re in your hundreds, but biologically?”

He looked away from you and closed his eyes again. His mouth was in a straight, harsh line.

“A lot older than you.”

You bit your lip, looking away.

“I miss my life before this. I miss Netflix and Spotify. Damnit, I miss Halsey.” His expression is unchanged, “Did you ever have a favorite song? You know, before — before everything?”

He knows what you’re asking but he doesn’t answer you. Instead, he runs two hands down his face and announces that you should both get going again.

You’re disappointed.

You had quickly gotten over the fact that he would never like you, if anything he hated you, but you both needed to find a common ground of respect, especially if you would be spending this much time together.

But he still wouldn’t abide by you. It was like he just didn’t care. Were you going to have to show him your true colors?

Eventually, the sun was beginning to set and Bucky suggested you both should set up camp.

He built a fire using wood and a lighter while you laid down both your blankets. He eyed you over the fire as you put his blanket straight across from his.

He wanted to thank you but his words wouldn’t come out. He was still stuck on the question you had asked him.

After the fire was just right, he tucked himself onto his uncomfortable grey blanket and laid his head on his arm.

Your eyes closed tightly together as you tried your best to go to sleep. You folded your knees against your small chest into a fetal position, to keep warm.

Bucky watched you from across the fire. You were a good girl.

But you shouldn’t be doing this. You were the kind of girl that was supposed to live in the aftermath of the successful mission, not the one fighting for it. You were going to get hurt.

Just like he did.

And he hated you for it. You were so young and had so much to live for.

He hated that he felt so many emotions for you that made him want to scream at you and make you go away. He wasn’t sure what they were but he knew none of them was anything romantic.

He would never feel that way about anyone else ever again.

He turned around in his blanket and closed his eyes tight together.

He did have a favorite song.

#Bucky Barens #Avengers #Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x You #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes Series #Winter Soldier fanfic #The falcon and winter soldier fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #MCU fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Reader Series

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 3 years

Text

I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead:

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it.

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before.

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.”

“If I come home.” He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody.

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet.

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected.

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about.

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience.

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye.

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else.

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles.

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs.

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering.

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance.

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples.

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect.

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things.

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy.

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day.

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?”

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?”

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease.

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie.

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes.

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more.

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for.

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall.

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger.

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously.

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue.

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared.

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them.

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes.

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why? What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job? Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with?

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same.

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.”

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?”

He glares, and Shireen clarifies.

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs.

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question.

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits.

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them.

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home.

Instead she asks an even crazier question.

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

#my writing #work in progress #jonsa fic #jonsa dystopian au #kind of inspired by songs of a distant earth #when I get to the new planet #whenever that happens #shireen!

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fourfucksake · 3 years

Text

online meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, stripping, masturbation

word count: 4.2k

p.s this workpiece is set in an alternative reality. this is a professor!chris one shot + i imagined y/n as a black girl, but i hope every single one of you lovely people will read!

Heaps of new policies bombarded universities since the spread of the virus. The amount of preparation and paperwork that had to be completed due to the newest conditions in the teaching system made everyone stressed to the maximum level. Perhaps, that’s why teachers communicated more during those challenging times; only those who work in the same environment can relate to your work frustrations. Individuals whom before appeared almost invisible where now your online buddies. It was quite incredible though.

Chris enjoyed the feeling of this community being available for him whenever he feels like expressing his irritations and or simply desires to moan about his dislikes. Before, he has never considered himself to be a whiner, but since everyone has been constantly moaning and pouting, he thought this is the right time to join the club.

Taking into consideration the current state of the world he was assured that everyone is a complainer right about now. He was okay with that though. No doubt, he didn’t know much about psychology, however, it seemed only logical to allow people to talk about how they feel. Also, it appeared plausible people felt scared, confused, or worried. Hey, these were very surreal times. There was no reason to make others feel bad about having emotions.

Of course, there was some resentment towards certain members of University since all the teaching went online. Sometimes, Chris felt like most of his colleagues gave rats ass about regulations and procedures that were now put in place. Instead of trying to provide the best learning experience possible, they restricted themselves to slamming all the work materials online for students to figure everything out on their own.

Personally, he found online teaching unbearable and exhausting. He hated it; there were no words to describe how much he despised it. At first it was alright; it was tolerable and doable. In a way, it was nice. Being at home, able to wake up later than early morning hours. Being with his dog and going on long walks wherever he wished. Being able to take his time with cooking, exercising, reading. All of those mentioned were exceedingly pleasant.

However, Chris chose to be a teacher. He loved spreading his knowledge around. Since an early age he would teach his younger brother; he was much help when it came to revising, essay or exam tips. This was his passion, he loved it. This pandemic undeniably took this away from him. However, there was still room to provide students with knowledge this way, and he tried extremely hard to do so in most effective ways.

For example, he did not have to orchestrate his own online meetings to be this long. Half an hour, that was a long time slot. This was planned completely on purpose. Ultimately, his desire was to provide students with the time to talk to him, express their concerns, and ask questions. Maybe he took this job way too seriously, he thought, and it wasn't needed. However, there’s always this teacher everyone likes, and Chris wanted to be precisely that guy. It wasn't some stupid ego thing, not at all. He genuinely wanted people to feel like he is there for them and wants them to succeed. Every single individual had an ability to be successful, some just needed an extra push too keep them on track. Although his own schooling experiences where genuinely pleasant, he knew he would benefit more from University experience if he had a teacher like him. Not to lick his own ass, he thought, of course.

After years of working in the schooling system no errors have ever occurred. Until last year, when the last class prior to pandemic began their college journey. Back then and there a problem has arisen – you. It was no one else than little Miss Perfect, the girl who made him look twice when she entered the room. Oh, how tiring and fatiguing crushing on you really was. Chris was always collected and focused while working, but with you in his classes he found himself distracted. Often losing his train of thought, his mind shifted to dark places when your class sat in front of him. Chris was a perfectionist, so this was, in fact, greatly infuriating for him.

He did not feel this way since high school. Back in the day he was not the coolest kid you could walk past in the corridor. Thankfully, he has never had his head shoved in the toilet, but not being bullied did not necessarily mean there’s a successful high school experience behind an average American. In his own opinion, he was just a normal kid that had nothing to show for back then.

Precisely that, being average, was now the reason behind this familiar feeling. A pretty girl, a popular girl causing vivid emotions to flush down himself. Looking at her while she does the most ordinary things was the reason behind the uncomfortable state in his pants. His hormones went ill around her, reminding him of how tough being a teenage boy with no control over his erections was. It felt so familiar, craving her this badly, almost as if he’s done it before. Maybe, in a way, he compared you to someone he crushed on for the whole duration of high school. A beautiful skin complexion, addictive smile and those big, shiny eyes staring at his soul; those qualities of yours highly reminded him of her.

Chris remembered that girl very well. He recalled being fascinated by her presence, by her strong personality, and hypnotic prettiness. Her name did not pop up in his mind for years. Until he met you. Chris had Pearl, Pearl Bennett, tattooed on his brain back then. Needless to say, it was embarrassing how annoyingly beautiful she was. Just like you. Now, he didn’t even know if she was alive, he hasn’t seen her for years. It never really bugged him then, it didn’t bug him now. It was just a pleasant memory that he was able to recollect because of you.

He wasn’t sure about your feelings towards him. Mr. Novak, his colleague, often commented on the way some students would look at him. Chris regularly heard Novak claiming that Evans could get any of “that young pussy” if he only snapped his fingers. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea. Maybe, he was just humble. Or stupid, possibly very stupid.

The house was practically unoccupied now; his wife was dropping groceries off at her mum’s house and Dodger was nowhere to be found, most likely sleeping someplace in the house. Chris did not mind. In fact, he was relieved to have no other human being here. Since pandemic began his marriage decreased in its quality drastically. For quite some time existing relationship brought more annoyance than joy. He was not sure if it went both ways but noticing how regularly his wife exited their house in recent times it was healthy to assume the feeling was mutual.

How did he feel about his failed marriage? Weirdly, he was awfully okay with it. There was not a single part of him that cared enough to fight for this marriage any longer. Right now, all his thoughts were concentrated around another female. How she managed to look delicious without trying. How she smiled or laughed. How her faced twisted with grumpy expressions once she didn’t understand a certain concept of a lecture. Chris could go on, and on, and on.

It was not possible he could describe you in any other word than perfect. It was quite pathetic, he thought, it shouldn't be like that. Yes, you are a pretty girl and yes, no man can probably say no to you. There was just something about you, something so extraordinary that it took his breath away. What was this fascination? He wasn't sure. However, what he was positive about was that he enjoys looking at you. He enjoys listening to you. He enjoys thinking about you. He enjoys all those things way too much; he was aware of that. He was not ready to stop thinking about you just yet.

Now, sitting in front of his Mac, his eyes were focused on the screen. He wasn’t too up to date when it came to the modern technology, but he also wasn’t clueless to how to work a computer. Setting everything up, he glanced over at the previously printed list of names with time slots besides them. The list was not in alphabetical order, students had their half an hour available for the next eight hours of his life.

It would be a lie to say he was not thinking about you. He was looking forward to seeing your face, even if it’s only on the computer display. Your surname and student ID were somewhere halfway through the list. Naturally, he searched for your name straight away after the programme generated the list.

The ticking of the clock hanged on the nearby wall sounded out so clearly. Almost like a racing heart whenever one feels more strain than usual. He could feel the nervousness growing within him as the time passed. He almost felt bad for the kid who had his scheduled meeting right before you. Chris kept on stuttering, disconnecting, and asking for questions to be repeated. Unfortunately, there was no strength in him to think about the failed one-to-one since his brain was too concentrated on you. His favourite, little student.

His thought process was disrupted as a green dot appeared next to your surname, suggesting your online availability. Licking his lips and fixing his hair, his fingers position themselves on the mouse. One click and the signal began. Beep one, beep two, beep three.

“Hi, Mr. Evans!” Her bubbly voice caused Chris to smile. She waved and in response so did he. She seemed happy, her face expression indicated nothing but joy, he enjoyed it greatly. “Hi! How are you? How’s everything?” He asked with an honest curiosity, still smiling at his student. It’s been months since the last time they spoke without anyone else around. Of course, this was the first instance of them conversating in those settings, but he did not mind. Any type of physical interaction seemed impossible now and anytime soon. This was the best he could receive for a significant period for now.

Their faces didn’t shut for the first couple of minutes. Talking about the past months, Chris was quickly reminded of how smart and funny this girl infatuating really is. They seemed to be getting on well right from the first meeting. Weirdly, she had similar likes and dislikes as well as sense of humour. It was like talking to a long-term friend whom you haven’t seen in the longest time. He noticed her hair change, spotting the long knotless braids; in his opinion she looked completely stunning in this hairstyle. He was quick to comment on it and as a reply he was given a complement on his newest buzzcut.

Sadly, but still, he ended the chit chat to focus on discussing work material. Chris tried to stay on topic and somehow it was going well. For the next couple of minutes, he chatted about work. His hand travelled to the left side of his desk to glance at a list of things he wanted to mention, however, he got cut off by the voice emanating from the screen.

“Are those meetings being recorded, Mr. Evans?” She raised her eyebrows with interest spread across her face. Her back bent forward, causing her face to enlarge on his screen. “I mean like,” She continued and coughed. “Is anyone going to watch this later? Does anyone have access to this after we finish talking?” Her question expanded or rather multiplied, sounding out in Chris’ air pads. There was no denying he was conflicted about why she was asking this question. This was not his first online meeting and not a single individual showed any concern in this matter.

“Well, no, not really. If any of us wanted to report our meeting for any reason then I guess, um, I guess it is possible to reopen the video chat,” Slow nod was all he could do at this very moment. No doubt, he still was not able to understand the nature of her question. “If any of us found the other person’s behaviour concerning, rude or inappropriate then the IT services could recover this video chat.” He added in a robotic tone almost as if he were reading from the script.

“Would you want this meeting to get inappropriate, Sir?”

He chocked a little as his eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself across the face in response to his pathetic reaction. Shouldn’t the age gap mean something? Why was he behaving like he’s on her leash? Why was he this…nervous? Excited?

Assuredly, she should be the one who is intimidated, meanwhile it’s her making the first move. He wasn’t sure whether this simply comes from his politeness and gentles; obviously, momma Evans raised him to be a respectful man. It’s apparent, the fear of scaring you was blocking all his possible moves. Risk of being reported for improper behaviour in the workplace was also a worry of his, but it came nowhere near the terrifying theory of frightening you.

But here you were. Being indecent with him. And oh, how he loved it. How he enjoyed this single sentence leaving your pretty lips. Your remarks were more enjoyable and exciting than everything he has completed with the woman he married in the past year, if not longer.

Was he being delirious? Did your comment indicated what he thought it did? Possibility of his mind playing games on him was high. It’s so easy to assume things happened when you wish for them to happen.

“Do you want to make it inappropriate? Do you want me to be inappropriate with you, Sir?” A deep breath left his mouth and a shiver travelling down his spine followed. He was now sure; he did not misunderstand. This was not his imagination playing him, tricking him into believing there’s something here that does not exist. All of this was very real.

“Whatever you wanna be on this call — I’m happy with,” He managed to speak out loud, fixing himself on the chair. This was a bad idea, he thought once again, a horrible idea that could quite literally ruin his career. Was he going to stop? Prevent this from happening? No fucking way.

“Huh, you sure about that, Mr. Evans? I can get really filthy when I want. I am a naughty girl,” Your words hit him like a truck, and he couldn’t help the blood rush in his trousers. He licked his lips slowly and pressed his back onto the chair. He could say something, but he chose not to. Whatever you planned on doing suited him and there was not an ounce of interest in preventing you from doing so.

No further words were spoken. There was a moment of short silence that felt like forever. A moment for someone to back up, break this madness off. No one expressed a need nor a want to stop. She played with her nipples through her shirt before they journeyed up. The straps of her pale pink top slowly moved down her arm, his eyes patiently followed. To him, you were mesmerising. At this moment you had his whole attention.

Looking straight at him, her hands removed the top and carelessly dropped it on the floor. His eyes glued onto her as the soft material left her body completely. He tensed as his length twitched, reacting to her breasts and hard nipples. Her skin was complemented by the colour of a previously worn top but seeing her without it sent shivers down his spine.

Chris could feel the discomfort in his pants becoming unbearable, needing to expose himself immediately. With shame, but still, he slowly undid his zipper. For a while now the feeling downstairs was insufferable, pleading and begging to be uncovered by his hand. Chris gulped back the lump in his throat as he completely freed his member. The view on the screen made his dick ache, his length twitched, jumping again his tense stomach.

“Liking this?” She teased, firmly grabbing her breasts. His eyes darken when he took in all her naked presence. The way she touched herself, he wanted that too. He wanted to feel her nipples between his fingers. He ached to be close to her.

“I wanna see all of you,” His words escaped his mouth, hand firmly grabbing his cock. Without shame nor hesitation his member was stroked, slowly and decisively, as his back leaned on the chair comfortably.

She was quick to listen. So submissive, he though, hand still firmly hugging his man part. He observed as she stood up, taking a few steps back. Still looking at Chris, her body turned around in a circle. Her moves were slow, very captivating, making Chris feel like every single movement was in slow motion. He already adored her body.

Her hands roamed around her own body before she slipped her hand inside her shorts and panties. Subtle movements of her hands indicated she’s pleasuring herself right in front of him. By her expressions, he was able to conclude that she’s enjoying herself. She didn’t play with herself for too long. Pulling the defiant material down as her eyes travelled to his, she exposed herself completely. He felt his mouth dry at a sigh of her bare body. She gave him a sultry look, realising the power she now held over him.

“Is this how you like me, Mr. Evans?” She broke of the silence, still exposing her hot flesh. It took Chris a couple of second to even register the question, his imagination run too wild to focus now. “Do I like you naked? It’s certainly a more thought-provoking image than how I usually view you,” He teased, slightly raising the corner of his lips in a smug smile.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I love imagining it’s your cock fucking me instead of my dildo,” She said completely unprovoked, making Chris widen his eyes. They did something naughty, something filthy, yet this comment really threw him off. “I’m gonna show you how I play with myself when I think of you,” She added and waisted no time before sitting on the bed. Chris had to admit, he spotted the bed straight away when the call started. Picturing himself laying there, you next to him, he took some time imagining the wicked scene you two could create on that mattress.

“I will show you how much, how much I love picturing us together,” Her seductive voice reached Chris’ ears, his interest growing with every single second. There was this unexplainable fear within him at this very moment, fearing she is going to stop. He was helpless now, he needed her to entertain him long enough for him to reach satisfaction.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid, her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I want you to watch,” His student said firmly, staring right at him. The sound of a dildo followed. Chris’ breath was caught in his throat straight from the anticipation of the next step she’s going to undertake. With hunger, Chris watched as she teased herself, rubbing her clit. The toy fondly slid inside of her, resulting in her lewd sounds and Chris’ silent moan.

Her nipples were hard, her unoccupied hand coming up to fondle them both whilst her bottom lip was taken hostage by her teeth. She was really enjoying herself; Chris could tell. The bed made a squeaky noise every time she moved. The call was so clear, thank God, he was able to enjoy every motion of hers. The moans, whimpers and groans escaping her pretty lips as she fucked herself with a toy. The quality of the video chat was good, but not great. He wanted to see her in full HD, he wanted to see the details. For now, though, viewing this was enough. This was damn good, so good. Those desperate hand movements, stuffing the length as deep as she could, it drove him insane. Oh, how he wanted to stretch her out like no one did before.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned, squeezing his hard cock. He was conversating with you through moans, examining you as the vibrations caused tingles in your lower department. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew her pussy was throbbing and pulsing, desperate for more length to enter. His body parts were no different; his balls felt heavy and his dick was hard as a rock, begging for a dream release.

The heat began to grow within his body with each and every movements of hers. She kept him going, moaning his name, calling him daddy, reminding him who she’s pulling this show for. If only she had any idea what it did to him. A shaky hand wrapped around his length made rapid movements, fighting for his orgasm to arrive. Watching her, listening to her, it was magical. This craze he had within him, this fixation she caused – it was obsessive. A loud scream, her thighs closing on the pink toy and her eyes shut while she orgasmed was enough, it was everything.

The feeling of euphoria intensely swept through him as a creamy load exploded in his hand. She could not see it, but he knew she felt it. All that left his mouth was a silent “fuck” as he collected his breathe. Chris was in pieces, still processing previous events. It was now clear to him how he pleaded for that orgasm to happen, how he needed it. He was embarrassed to admit how strong, how intense, the load bursting onto his hand really was. Lucky for him, no one knew anything about it but him and himself.

„You liked this little show of mine, daddy?” Her voice awakened his senses, causing his mouth to water once again. She caught him looking at his crotch, now surely convinced what happened. She removed the toy from her body, a silent whimper followed. She threw it away on the bed like it was nothing, like it did not help them both cum just minutes ago.

“So much baby, so much. Can you show me s’more? One more time,” He breathed, looking at her with lust. She obeyed, without hesitation; her body rose from the bed and did a slow, full 360 to demonstrate her delectable features. Maybe, he was delusional, but he was sure her juices travelled down her leg. If he were right next to her, his tongue would have taken care of that.

“See you in a seminar, right, Mr. Evans?” Her sweet voice rang in his ears followed by his quick nodding. He had a chance to see her collecting the missing wardrobe that she then put on right before him. Chris could not help but notice her shaky legs. She sat down in the exact same position as before. She reached for a cup, drinking, and sipping the liquid through a straw. Now, she was back to her regular self, looking innocent once again. It slightly woke him up, brought half of him to reality.

“Yes, Miss. I will see you there. Be good, huh?” Chris said casually or at least he tried to do so. He was caught by surprise, convinced that he’s going to slur over his words more. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, forming as much of an eye contact as possible through the processor. Her current thoughts seemed impenetrable to him, although he always thought he’s amazing at reading facial cues.

“Me and you both know - I won’t.”

The last words of his current interest sounded from his Mac. Sending him a flirty wink before pressing the right button, she terminated the call. The intense orgasm left his hand still somewhat shaking. Eyes focused on the screen, he looked like he was awaiting another glimpse of her to come back.

Chris’ ecstatic state wasn’t quick to falter. It took another couple of minutes for him to do anything. Literally, anything. He was already late for the next meeting, which he felt absolutely no remorse for. His eyes lowered to look at the mess he produced; his mind displeased as he had realised, he needs to move to clean it.

Once again, it was just him and his usual surroundings. The call was over, just like that, almost as if it never happened. Despite his deepest longing, he could not go back to what just happened, he could not relive it. Your moans and whimpers performed in his head like a favourite song one would put on replay without a hesitation. He was craving more, his fingers curled into fists as he felt his cock hardening again. He was not sure what his next moves in this matter will be, but he was more than sure he needed to be inside this beautiful body.

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