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loruleanheart · 3 years

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Desired Fate, Chapter 18

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Read on FF.net

I wanted to post this tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Here it is! Warning, this chapter is coming at you with razor blades and lemon juice. You were warned.

Revali drew back the string of the Great Eagle Bow, preparing to deliver the killing strike to Windblight Ganon as it had grown more and more languid in its movement, and while it was still distracted by Sooga.

“This is it!” Revali called victoriously, letting the bomb arrows fly.

Sooga dodged the incoming explosives and they collided with Windblight in a grand explosion. The creature’s resounding bestial shriek was like a reward for a battle well fought.

Lowering his bow, Revali watched, savoring the moment as the blight hemorrhaged malice. He had faced the most grueling battle he’d ever experienced, and he would live to regale his fellow Rito of his triumph.

He turned his attention to the Yiga, still at a loss for their motivations. What had possessed them to turn against Calamity Ganon?

Well, whatever… Revali thought. At least it wasn’t the vexingly silent knight wielding the sacred blade who came to save the day. He’d never live it down if it had been him…

Revali alighted before the two, holding back any outward sign of exhaustion or weakness. He regarded the Yiga with a hard look of suspicion.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I must thank you for coming to my aid. But just as a warning, if you do anything to make me question this...alliance, I won’t hesitate to -”

“Your threats won’t be necessary,” Sooga said simply, resheathing his dual blades.

Sooga’s words were clear despite the mask he wore, yet Revali paused, contemplating his words, not fully believing the situation. Revali braced himself for a surprise attack that never came as the moments passed.

He stared into the inverted crimson eye painted on Sooga’s horned mask and the long crack that ran across it, slightly unnerved that he could not see the man’s eyes or facial expressions. He’d have to rely on the man’s body language and tone of voice for assurance that he was not a threat.

Kohga approached, having remained a safe distance away during the fight. “Well done, Sooga! That was quite the display of Yiga bravado.”

Revali opened his beak to say something more, but before he could form the words, their attentions were drawn to the thunderous and deliberate footsteps of a Divine Beast.

He lifted off the surface of Vah Medoh to see which of the other Champions had come to his aid. Kohga and Sooga likewise rushed across the mossy stone that stretched the wingspan of Vah Medoh to look out into the distance.

“This should be interesting…” Revali remarked as he watched Vah Naboris approach.

“Urbosa’s coming….?! ...That’s our cue to leave!” Kohga blurted before retreating into a cloud of smoke and falling talismans.

Sooga turned to Revali and shook his head. “Master Kohga can be a bit of a coward when it comes to the Gerudo Chief. “Uh… Don’t tell him I told you that!” And with that Sooga followed after Kohga, leaving Revali alone.

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The was a sterile, stillness that belied the Champion’s victory over the blights as Hyrule Field was cast in a dreary grey. There would be no breathtaking sunset to behold, nor the comfort the moon’s brilliant glow could bring, only the world darkening as night crept in.

The four that had seized the bokoblin camp for a moment of rest could sense the encroaching storm from the dark clouds above, but none spoke of it aloud.

Robbie cleared his throat. There was no longer a levity in his voice. “Where are you headed next?”

Astor didn’t meet Robbie’s eyes as he smoothed Zelda’s long golden hair with his gloved hand. It took a moment for him to respond, too focused on her downcast gaze.

“Fort Hateno... That’s where she is fated to awaken her inner power.”

“Then I wish you both luck.” Robbie offered, humbly.

Zelda hung her head and Astor squeezed her hand in comfort. The bleak refrain of Zelda’s court came to mind.

Heir to a throne of nothing…

She said nothing in response, and he wondered if she was thinking the same. She seemed to have retreated inward, having cried herself out.

Purah leaned forward to address Zelda. “Princess, I have faith in you, I do. You are not alone and we’re not going to give up trying to turn back the Calamity. I think we could all benefit if we set up camp here and call it a day. And if any monsters come by, we’ll beat them with our flails.”

“No… I must go to Fort Hateno right away.” Zelda replied shakily.

“I hate to be blunt, Princess, but you aren’t in any condition to operate the Master Cycle.”

“I’ll be fine, Purah.”

She didn’t sound fine.

Zelda quivered in his arms, and Astor’s chest tightened with unfamiliar apprehension.

Purah’s earlier antics would have made Kohga proud. Just like Kohga, she was perceptive, yet Astor was relieved to see a more serious side to her - as the situation demanded. He just hoped Zelda would heed Purah’s warning.

“A rest wouldn’t disturb fate, Zelda. And you do need the rest,” said Astor.

Purah and Robbie observed the couple pensively, and Astor felt like an oddity under their analytical gaze - as if they were trying to ascertain what Zelda had done to tame the Prophet of Doom himself - something Astor was in awe of as well.

“I won’t rest until I awaken my inner power,” Zelda said with as much determination as she could muster looking up at him with reddened, weary eyes. “We don’t have a moment to waste. Let us be on our way.”

Astor followed Zelda. Despite his fatigue, despite his trepidation about getting back on the Master Cycle, he couldn’t fathom not going with her.

“Astor!” Robbie called after him.

“Hm?”

“Take care of her.”

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Their journey to Fort Hateno proved to be miserable and treacherous as it had begun to rain not long after they departed. As they neared the West Necluda region, the moisture laden clouds above spilled their cold tears on the Goddess’s descendant and her elect. The rain slicked the grass and turned the packed earth roads to mud. The Master Cycle was at times buffeted by strong winds that made it difficult to maneuver. Visibility was low. Bridges became slippery.

Astor’s grip on Zelda’s waist tightened. Dread and guilt crept in as she began to second-guess her decision.

Why are we doing this? All my previous attempts to awaken my power have failed. What is it about Fort Hateno that will suddenly change everything? Ugh, I can’t allow myself to think like this.

The Master Cycle traversed through Dueling Peaks, and Zelda felt as though those towering cliffs were pressing in on them. The cliffs gave way to a vast plain, and the mountains in the distance were barely an outline in the night sky.

Zelda took care as they crossed the Big Twin Bridge, breathing out in relief when she had made it to the other side.

Almost there…

Even as Blatchery Plain stretched out before them, Zelda felt no closer to awakening the power within herself, and she didn’t know what recourse she had if this too did not work. These thoughts lingered as she pressed onward.

Blatchery Plain lay in ruin, desolate, and devoid of life - or so it seemed. A figure appeared in the immediate dim horizon, and Zelda’s heart froze as she swerved to avoid colliding with it. The Master cycle dipped a little too far for comfort to one side. Her heart thumped rapidly as she struggled to keep it upright. The tires squelched through the mud as they veered off the path and then returned.

“It keeps finding us…” Zelda said worriedly.

“Ganon always knows where we are…” Astor replied, trying not to let fear enter his voice.

Zelda looked back over her shoulder, a pit opening in her stomach when she realized the Harbinger wasn’t as far back as she expected. No, it was following them at a speed unlike other Guardians.

“Astor, whatever you do, hold on tight…” her voice was nearly muffled by the rumble of the engine.

A chill ran down Astor’s spine as he perceived the words of Calamity Ganon. It was a voice he knew all too well from prophetic dreams, the one that had urged him so fervently to kill the princess.

You are nothing, my wayward prophet without a prayer.

“Leave me alone!” Astor screamed, tearing his circlet that bore the eye of malice from his forehead. He turned and pitched it at the charging Harbinger. The red and yellow stone was crushed under its rampaging claw the next moment.

Do you think you can rid yourself of me that easily? That was merely an outward symbol of your devotion to me. Nothing more. You’ll never be able to wash the taint of malice away. Everyone is going to know who you are and what you did. You belong to me!

With the Harbinger closing in on them, Zelda pushed the Master Cycle to its limit. The engine chugged. Her stomach soured as the cycle struggled to gain speed.

There was a dreamlike sensation of slow-motion despite her rapid heartbeat, beating in time with Astor’s against her back. She felt as though -

The Harbinger’s laser is trained on them and after what feels like a silent eternity it fires. The high-powered beam of ancient energy tears through his back and exits her chest. They are enveloped in a blinding blue light as that final scream of failure is ripped from her.

She snapped herself out of that grim vision, still awash in panic. It had been easy to outrun the Harbinger in the Lost Woods, but there was nothing to slow its chase out in the open plain.

Her panic-fueled delirium reached a fever pitch. She didn’t dare look again, but she could hear the gurgle of malice and the mechanical whirring of the automaton itself.

Goddess Hylia... It’s right on us...How is it so fast? It’s somehow running at full tilt on three mechanical legs just to get at us. The effort alone should cause it to break down. It wasn’t designed to go at that speed.

Zelda despaired, thinking of how something her mother made so long ago with loving care had been corrupted by Calamity Ganon.

This was her final thought as the Harbinger swung its distended bladed arm, colliding with the vehicle’s back tire. The Master Cycle wavered pathetically from the force of the automaton’s slap, and then went down, skidding through the mud.

The sky and ground spun as she felt herself hit the ground, narrowly missing becoming pinned under the fallen Master Cycle.

The falling rain on her skin brought Zelda back to a vague awareness. Groaning, she opened her eyes. She barely registered that they were lying in a crumpled heap, but when she did, she reached for Astor as he stirred slightly. Her hands moved over him as she fought to regain her bearings.

“Astor… Please say something...” She could only mumble as her fingers stroked the braids that draped the side of his face.

Astor sucked in a breath, wincing. “I... think I’m still in one piece…”

There was mud all over her dress and numerous scrapes on her exposed shoulders and arms. The rain stung her open wounds, but that was only the beginning of her pain.

Lifting her head weakly, she saw that the Master Cycle was a complete loss - and the Harbinger loomed over them, its corrupted red display ebbing outward hypnotically as it regarded them.

“Zelda, run....” Astor urged her, helplessly.

She took in the glowing blue of the Harbinger’s many blades. It was toying with them, taking its time as a predator with prey.

“I can’t outrun it any more than you can. I won’t leave you.” Zelda gripped his hand, her voice resigned and weak.

The Harbinger began to emit a discordant tune.

To Zelda, it sounded so familiar in her mental haze but deeply wrong. However, Astor knew it all too well.

There were times when the Harbinger used to play a strange song. Even Kohga and Sooga had heard it ‘sing’ at odd intervals. They didn’t know what to think at first. Then, Astor learned the origins of the Harbinger and he realized its significance. The tune was little more than a malfunction - simply the machinery morbidly regurgitating a lullaby meant for the princess out of key. Kohga and Sooga’s howls of laughter carried through the Yiga Hideout on the day they came to the same realization, much to Astor’s annoyance. The toy Zelda had once cherished was now possessed by the most malignant spirit in the realm and Astor was hanging on its every instruction.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Terrako…” Zelda said numbly.

And then Astor heard her make a seizing sound. The alarm and pain in her voice turned his stomach to rot.

Zelda stared at her feet in horror. They were as black as a decomposing corpse. She held them out as if paralyzed with pain. The same concerning blackness had appeared on her cheek, and others were appearing elsewhere, spreading.

“No, not her!” Astor screamed, taking hold of her in his arms.

Malice licked and traveled her body like a flame. It had started at her feet, blackening her skin and sandals, and traveled up. The malice infected her body, consuming her dress, her hair, and finally blooming in the whites of her eyes.

He cradled her in his arms, her darkened eyes staring back at him in wide open agony, and he wished the malice would consume him as well. She opened her mouth to say something, but the only sound that came forth was a terrible gasping sound.

“No… No…”

He pressed his face into the exposed skin of her shoulder, feeling the blighted flesh against his own. Her body gave no warmth, just a husk of her former beauty.

The anguish crashing down on him was unbearable as his raging thoughts took over - Hylia’s words turning over and over again in his mind, and all the things he wished he’d told Zelda.

I was supposed to die that way. Not her… I can’t let her die believing she’s a failure.

Hyrule’s future lay in ruin along with his own. What was fate if even the prophecy of the Goddess could be undone?

The Harbinger watched the prophet grieve, viewing the scene in the red tones of its censor. Certain the princess who bore the goddess’s blood would soon pass away, it turned to retreat.

Astor raised his head, hearing himself utter words he never thought possible.

“I love her… Know this, Calamity Ganon...I love her!” His voice shuddered in horrible defeat and desolation. “And I always will...”

Zelda grit her teeth as she shakily held her wasted right hand high.

The Harbinger had stopped in its tracks. It had ignored its former prophet’s confession, but now sensed a holy power brewing within the nearly lifeless girl.

A golden light had manifested in the palm of her hand, and in the next instant intensified into a brilliant and blinding dome that eclipsed the field.

Astor lifted his arm to shield his eyes, still embracing her with the other.

The dome of light faded out. Astor opened and closed his eyes, his vision coming back into focus.

“That light… It's…”

She held her arm out still, rigidly. Astor could only stare in awe at the unmistakable triangular mark on the back of her hand, and when her extended arm began to falter, he clasped her hand before it could fall limply to her side.

Zelda serenely closed her eyes. Astor thought he heard her exhale softly as she sank back into his arms, going limp. The black malice receded slowly, beginning at the sacred mark on her hand. The skin beneath had an otherworldly immaculate quality to it. And though the malice departed from her body and hair, it was plain to see that her clothing and jewelry would remain corroded and black.

The Harbinger was gone. Astor could only imagine it had retreated. There was nothing but the calming sound of rain falling as it began to taper off, and the dark clouds began to break, leaving nothing but the starry night sky and the moon. Astor’s gaze rested on the soft rise and fall of her chest.

There was the clanging of armor and Astor turned his head to see two Hyrulian soldiers approach.

“What was that light?” The soldier let his gaze fall on the girl in Astor’s arms and then the wrecked vehicle, going silent.

“Who are you? What did you do to the princess!?” the other barked.

“I... I’m her seer. I helped her awaken her sacred power.” Astor gave them a tired, elated smile, too thankful to Hylia that Zelda was alive to demand respect from these two lowly Hyrulean Soldiers.

The soldiers glanced at one another skeptically, not sure whether to take the strange, suspicious man at his word, but there was no denying the light shining dully from Zelda’s hand.

“Should we believe him? I know of no royal seer in attendance to the princess. Where is her appointed knight?”

“He certainly doesn’t look the least bit royal to me… Anyways, we need to get Her Highness to safety. Alright, Sir, you’re going to carry Her Highness to Fort Hateno, and you’re going to mind your hands while you do.”

Astor bit back a scathing insult and gathered the princess in his arms, following the soldiers in the direction of their destination. It wasn’t long before his arms ached terribly, and he didn’t think he would be able to carry her any longer, especially in his condition.

“Just a little further,” the first soldier said, not unkindly.

Astor adjusted his aching arms, Zelda still not stirring, and he pressed on.

They passed by countless broken-down Guardians.

“That light… It seems to have disabled the Guardians in the vicinity.” The soft-spoken soldier remarked.

They passed through the raised iron gate and the stone-faced soldier directed Astor to a tent.

“She can rest here. You rest over there,” the soldier ordered testily, pointing to another tent some distance away.

“You must be joking... We haven’t been apart during the entirety of the Calamity.” Astor felt the words leave his mouth helplessly.

“I care not! And I’m going to be keeping an eye on these tents to make sure nothing untoward happens until she can be reunited with her rightful appointed knight or advisor.”

Astor’s chest tightened, furious and in disbelief at the soldier’s callousness. “Just what are you accusing me of? We were attacked! Listen to me, you presumptive scab, there’s a very dangerous Guardian still out there and it's not done with us. I can’t leave her side. She’s incapacitated and defenseless.”

The soldier drew his sword. “Which is exactly why I won’t let you stay by her side,” he spat. “I’m not going to let you take advantage of the Calamity and sully her reputation, whoever you are. You expect me to believe your tall tales? I’ve yet to see a Guardian I couldn’t handle. Now, do as I say. I’m already granting you far more accommodation than you deserve!”

Astor shut his eyes in surrender and hugged the girl in his arms, knowing he could not afford to escalate the situation any further. He laid her in the tent and then turned to tiredly lurch toward the other, grumbling under his breath about how he was going to be sleeping with one eye open.

In his dreams, they stand under the Blood Moon hand in hand. The sky and land are awash in a scarlet glow. As her right hand clasps his left, he can sense her power resonating. Zelda stares up at the beast circling her home, undaunted, and smiles.

#Astor #Age of Calamity #HW:AoC #Zelast #fanfiction

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

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The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 15 - Make Up Your Mind

Masterlist; Chapter 14

Summary: The mission in Oslo does not go exactly to plan, forcing you to face irritated Neil. What unfolds then surprises you both...

Warnings: A little dose of hurt (nothing graphic however); swearing; some nsfw content (nothing too explicit as well; yet)

Author’s Notes: Okay so here we go, my first attempts at a little more than kissing... It turned out that once I let these two loose, they knew exactly what to do. I’m terrified but also excited to see what you all think! Feedback will be greatly appreciated! Enjoy!!!

The next day went by in a mad blur, filled with perfecting the plans, getting hold of the equipment, and rehearsing the itinerary. The only plus side of your late evening encounter with Neil was the return of texting. It became not only the most fun part of the day but also an opportunity to talk to him freely, without the curious stare of TP, who seemed confused by the dynamic between you. But then you could not blame him when Neil had the nerve to send you rather questionable texts during the hours spent planning…

“I can’t help but wonder whether to treat what you did last night as a promise” as soon as you read the message, you raised your head to look at him across the room.

There he was, nonchalantly sipping the espresso you handed him mere ten minutes prior. When he noticed your look, he smirked. Intentional teasing in public was new. You wondered whether that was a punishment for your own provocations the previous day. And the very self-indulgent kiss. If so, then you probably did deserve it. One thing was certain, it was hard to forget how it felt to touch his skin beneath that shirt. Or the sound he made when it happened. The memories flashed before your eyes, and you blushed. Neil noticed but luckily chose to keep the information to himself. In response, you typed back:

“Maybe, if you behave nicely, you’ll see soon ;)” you hit sent and got up to help Mahir with choosing the right kind of gun for the job.

You certainly did not ignore the way Neil’s eyes lit up when he received the text. Or the way he made sure to brush against you on the way to the bathroom. Hiding a grin in your coffee cup, you had to admit that you liked this evolution of events.

The next day, with the operation set to begin at eight o’clock in the evening, you were forced to spend most of the day in the hotel room. You have all decided that for the sake of safety, it was best that TP and Neil have not been seen meeting anybody before their scheduled visit in the Freeport. And so you have spent hours watching tv, going over the plan and conversing with Mahir, who turned out to be an excellent companion. He entertained you with tales from his previous Tenet missions, usually just as crazy as the Oslo one. You responded by telling him the story of how you ended up in the organization. Before you knew it was time to go. You both got dressed in civilian clothes, based on what research told you about the clothing of the airport crew. The first part of the plan involved entering the perimeter of the Oslo Airport with the rest of the evening shift, blending in with the crowd, using the hi-vis vests and ID cards. When you succeeded, you located the Norskfreight plane. It was exactly where it was supposed to be, with the airport crew busily loading the compartment with the gold bars stacked on crates and secured with straps. So far, so good.

You checked the time. There was still some left till the beginning, so all you had to do was lay low, stay out of the spotlight and make sure you were on that meal cart when it will be loaded onto the Boeing. You hid in the shadows on the hangar, letting Mahir and his associate, Rohan, take up their posts. Using the few minutes of freedom, you glanced at your phone. One new text message.

“Stay out of trouble there, please” he must have sent it before they left the hotel.

Despite the rising anxiety, you smiled.

“Same goes to you. I need my idiot back” you typed, for once giving in to the temptation of honesty.

It felt like things were about to shift at any point now. And it was not as scary as you expected.

Mahir calling out your name brought you back to the present moment. You took a deep breath, checked the gun holstered underneath the vest, and joined your partners on the tarmac. Nodding politely at the guards that were to accompany you onto the plane, you sized them up. Three rather large men with years of experience guarding precious cargo. You should manage. As the lift went up and you stepped aboard the plane, you let the guards escort you to the compartments with the plane meals. The three of you unloaded the cart purposefully slowly. Your eyes met Mahir’s, and you nodded. It was time. Silently you counted the seconds before turning to the guard nearest to you and placing a cotton pad over his nose. When he passed out, you lowered him onto the floor and watched your partners do the same with the rest. You then dumped the sleeping bodies onto the cart and let Rohan send it down, sealing the plane door. You followed Mahir into the front of the plane, opening the cockpit door without knocking. When the two pilots turned to you with a startled look on their faces, you cocked the gun and showed it to them with a small smile. A clear signal.

“Don’t touch the radio,” Mahir warned and sat down on the additional seat in the cockpit.

Taking your position, you aimed the weapon at their heads, alternating between the men every few minutes, suiting your fancy. Sometimes it was terrifying how much you enjoyed having such power.

“Now, let’s begin” your partner motioned for the pilots to start up the towing procedure, pulling out from the hangar and onto the tarmac.

Their nervous gestures were somewhat adorable. You glanced back at Rohan, who was busy with the gold bars, slashing up the straps and preparing the grenade. Feeling the incoming explosion, you braced yourself against the ear-piercing sound. You were rolling down the taxiway now, at a comfortable speed. When the blow came, you flinched instinctively. The distant clamour of gold toppling onto the tarmac made you beam. Mahir got up and tapped you on the shoulder. Now for the fun part…

“Alright, gentlemen,” you grinned at the panicked pilots “Let’s get going” at their hesitation, you smacked your tongue and raised the pistol “You don’t want me to use this. Trust me” you winked.

That was enough. The got up hastily and left the cabin, while you followed behind with the gun ready to be used at any given moment. Rohan opened the front emergency door and unfolded the slide. Nudging their backs with the barrel of your Glock, you urged the crew to roll down the slide and onto the tarmac.

“Ouch,” you flinched when their bodies made contact with the surface.

That was bound to hurt. But then, supposedly, it was better than dying. Once that was done you made sure Mahir was on his task of steering the giant plane off the track and in the direction of the Freeport. Everything seemed perfectly executed. At least so far.

With the back wall approaching fast through the panoramic windows in the cockpit, it was time to work on the exit route. Rohan has opened the flap on the floor and lowered the ladder just as Mahir made sure that the plane was on the right track and stood up from the pilot’s seat.

For the last time, you checked the trajectory, the speed of the machine, and whether there were any signs of trouble around.

“Y/N, it’s time to go!” Mahir called you out from his place by the ladder.

Your ears perked at a strange sound coming from the lavatory on the side. That was worrying… Sensing trouble, your eyes’ met Mahir’s. You urged him to go on, hoping he will take the hint. With a small hesitation, he nodded and left the plane. You looked out of the window. You were approaching the building too fast. But there was no time to waste.

Using the training, you aimed the gun and kicked the toilet door open. You were met with a pair of startled yet determined eyes belonging to a young man. You realised he was probably delivering some papers when you barged in and so hid in the bathroom. Not checking was on you, a definitive fuck up. There would be time to dwell on it later. Now you had to act. One look at the boy was enough to let you know that he was harmless. You yanked him up from the toilet seat and wordlessly pushed him towards the doors open with the slides unrolled.

“What are you doing?” he stammered.

At least he can speak English.

“Saving your ass. Thank me later” you pushed him down the slide.

You could hear the sound of light posts toppled by the plane and the cars crushed by the rolling wheels. It was late. Perhaps too late. You could see the details of the building as you leaped towards the ladder. Fuck it. Landing on the penultimate step, you turned to see people running around, sensing the impending impact. It was definitely too late.

Just as you jumped, Boeing’s nose was two meters away from the wall. With that speed and overwhelming panic, you could not land properly and fell to the ground hard. The impact with the tarmac blew the air out of your lungs, and it took you a long 30 seconds to get up. When you did, the plane crashed into the wall with a bang. The explosion sending you back onto the hard surface of the runway. The instinct kicked in, and you tried to cover your head with your hands, bracing against the potential debris. That was a good decision as soon you felt the sting on different parts of your body left uncovered. You did not want to think about the future bruises and scrapes. Once the initial explosion died down and the biggest pieces of the wreckage fell, you pushed yourself up. Only now, when the adrenaline levels dropped, you realised that the pain was, partially, because a few articles of your clothing were singed. So burns too… brilliant. Your whole body ached, with few areas stinging more ferociously. You glanced at the detritus covering the tarmac all around you. It was a miracle you could do as much as get up and run away from the breach, using the remains of strength. You spotted Mahir and Rohan on the sideline of the crowd that assembled by the plane wreckage. The gold bars were by far the most interesting feature, and so it worked. Nobody stopped you as you joined the team. Worried looks from them both were enough to assure you that they saw what happened. But there was no time to talk.

You waited until the police forces arrived and then used the increasing confusion to slip out unnoticed. Glancing at the Freeport building, you could only hope that Neil and TP had more luck than you. Running away from the chaos, you noticed something strange on the periphery of your vision. You turned sharply and stopped, watching. Two men running with a stretcher. It was most likely nothing but… You would swear there was something familiar in the movements of one of them. It couldn’t be. He turned as though noticing your stare. Just for a quarter of a second, your eyes met. For some reason, you knew then that it was him. And he saw you, acknowledging your existence with widened eyes. The moment ended with Mahir tugging on your arm, urging you to follow him. When you turned again, there was no sight of the two men. Briefly, you wondered whether you should tell Neil, but you knew the answer. What’s happened, happened.

*** Escaping the Oslo Airport turned out to be rather easy. Despite the aching body and tiredness that was slowly catching up, you followed the plan. After splitting up with your partners, you hopped on the public transport that took you back to the city centre within a half-hour. The early reports were calling the incident a terrorist attack, and because of that, there were many people aboard the train that wanted to get away from the epicentre. You blended in well, choosing to sit by the window at the back. No one asked questions.

Once you made it back to the city, you went back to your hotel and changed into something more comfortable. Taking off the shirt, you frowned at the forming bruises, burns, and scratches littering the whole of your torso and back. Somehow, you knew that you will not be able to hide it from them. Especially not from Neil.

You glanced at your watch. You were late. Cursing, you sped up the movements, left the hotel, and hurried down the empty streets. Adjusting your hood now and then, you kept glancing at your phone. Just as expected, your lateness did not go unnoticed.

“Where are you?”

And then:

“Is everything alright?”

Normally, that would make you think, but with everything that happened tonight, you just replied.

“Yes, I’ll be there in 2mins” pocketing the phone, you practically jogged the rest of the way.

Using the skills in sneaking, you managed to pass the reception desk unnoticed. Upstairs, you knocked on TPs door and awaited a response. It did not take long.

Five seconds later, the door opened, revealing Neil. You offered him a weak smile, suddenly relieved you made it back in one piece. Without a word, he took your hand in his and dragged you inside, closing the door and turning the lock. TP was waiting in the corridor, evidently troubled.

“Sorry, I…” you were acutely aware of the fact that the questions are about to be asked.

“We’re glad you made it” TP smiled at you and wandered over to the adjacent room, giving you privacy.

Now that was even more concerning. You watched wide-eyed as Neil approached you with a rather nervous smile on his face. He was worried. Before you could react, he closed the gap and embraced you. You did not have time to relax into his touch. When his hand brushed one of the sore spots on your side, you flinched. Of course, Neil would notice. He let go of you in a flash:

“What’s wrong?” his blue eyes studied you worriedly “Are you hurt?” he skimmed over your body as though trying to see anything obvious there.

You frowned. It was hard to resist that sudden urge to run out of the hotel room and onto the street, avoiding the conversation. Avoiding those eyes that could always see right through you.

“It’s nothing” you faked a smile and tried to turn away from him.

But he reached out and grabbed your arm, holding on strong. There was no escape.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me” his brow only furrowed more.

You could tell that although their mission was successful, he was weary. And all because of you. That realisation was a hard one to swallow.

“Just a few scratches,” you shrugged, aiming for nonchalance “It’s okay, seriously”.

You could tell that he was trying to keep his emotions in check. He breathed out, as though composing himself, and asked:

“What happened?”

God no… Briefly, you were grateful for the fact that Mahir was still MIA. At least only you knew the truth, and that allowed some room for… lies.

“Got held up before I could escape the plane and... I jumped too late onto the tarmac” you blurted out, staring at the carpet purposefully.

Everything was better than meeting his eyes again. You heard movement across the room. TP was most likely hearing this too. Bloody brilliant.

“Jesus, you could’ve...” Neil let out a long exhale, unable to finish the thought.

Despite knowing better, you raised your head to look at him. The concern and anguish you saw in his expression were enough to make your heart stumble. Maybe it was not all want and his needs?

“But I didn’t, so please stop” you tried to regain composure, wrestling out of his hold and stepping out of his reach.

He clenched his jaw, clearly battling the emotions. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.

“I need to check if you’re okay,” his voice broke at the end of the sentence.

Fuck.

“I am” attempting defiance, you straightened your back and wandered into the room.

“I don’t believe you,” he followed and blocked your path in no time.

You stared, trying to stifle all that his worried eyes were making you feel. Why does he have to be so goddamn difficult?

“And who’s problem is that?” you shrugged out of the jacket, careful not to show the pain you felt “Neil, just let it go” you pleaded.

“I can’t” he stepped in closer, trying to get to you the only way he knew was successful.

But this time, you were determined not to give in. Maybe it was ridiculous, but his concern set off the stubbornness you were full of. You could not let him see how badly you have fucked up during that mission. Because then he could look at you differently. And that was terrifying. Especially when combined with feelings that you have tried to repress for the past few days.

“Brilliant” you sighed and collapsed onto the nearby armchair.

That was a mistake, as the wounds on your back stung the moment you sat down. You were unable to stop the grimace of pain. Neil, naturally, did notice. The concern on his face quickly shifted into annoyance. Before you could continue the strange quarrel, TP walked back into the room. The way his eyes shifted between the two of you, you knew he heard most of it.

“Is everything alright there?” he asked, seemingly casual.

“Not quite. We’ve reached an impasse it seems” you shrugged, rolling your eyes and ignoring Neil, who was very much in the centre of your vision.

“You’re being childish, so there’s that” the dark edge to his voice was surprising.

But that relentless voice in your head found satisfaction in it. And decided to press forward.

“If I’m childish, then what does it say about you?” you met his gaze with one eyebrow arched “Why do you even care so much? Didn’t take you for a neurotic” once you spit those words out, his eyes darkened.

That might have been a step too far.

“Fucking hell...” he took a deep breath “Okay, I’ve had enough” he grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the chair “You in the bathroom now. I’ll look at those wounds” he practically pushed you in the direction of the corridor.

You stared, shocked. For a split second, you looked at TP and noticed his perplexed expression. This was definitely not how casual co-workers behaved.

“Is that absolutely necessary?” you risked another question.

“Yes,” Neil was not even looking at you, searching for something on the desk.

You sighed defeatedly. Seeing him that angry was startling. And you were not sure you wanted to know why he was behaving like that. Because, surely, it could not have been all caused by your disobedience…?

“Do you want tea for later?” TP’s question broke through your messy thoughts.

One look at Neil’s tense figure was enough to give you an answer.

“Whiskey would be better, thanks” you smiled at the boss and went into the dreaded bathroom.

You did not have to wait long for Neil to follow you and lock the door behind you. At the sound, you turned to face him. Taking in the irritation in his eyes, clenched jaw, and furrowed brow, you quipped:

“I see you finally got what you wanted. Me and you, locked in the bathroom. What’s it gonna be?” you drawled out the question and wiggled your eyebrow, giving in to the weird mood that suddenly overcame you.

That took him by surprise. You watched as his eyes widened and mouth opened a little. For a second, you wanted nothing but to close it with a kiss. No, stop.

“Think I’m starting to rub off on you” Neil gave you a half-smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Is that bad?”

“Potentially,” he grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair “Now, sit” obediently, you perched on the edge of the bathtub “Where is it?” his eyes roamed over your body again.

There we go, you ignored the blush creeping over your cheeks as you sheepishly glanced down at your chest and stomach.

“Okay. Off” if he was bothered by the information, he did not show it.

You could not tell if that was good or bad.

“Really?” you glanced up, hoping that maybe he will change his mind.

“Yes. And I’m not going to say that I won’t look because that’s kind of beyond the point” there was nothing playful in those eyes.

“Well then…” awkwardly, you took off the loose shirt you found at the bottom of the suitcase.

As it came over your head, you dropped the material onto the floor. The moment cold bathroom air hit your bare skin, you felt exposed. Swallowing down the nerves, you met Neil’s eyes. He did stare, there was no denying that. You felt him skim over your chest and stomach, drinking in everything that was suddenly revealed. You knew that he saw all the bruises, scratches, and burns that you have acquired tonight. The expression in his eyes was as close to cold scrutiny as you have ever seen. You felt judged, and it was a rather uncomfortable position to be in, considering everything. But before you could let that feeling consume you, he ended his examination and kneeled on the tiled floor, right in front of you. He met your gaze, asking for permission to touch you. You just nodded and turned away, focusing on counting the little white squares in the shower floor mosaic. A moment later, you felt Neil’s fingers ghost over one particular scrape on your rib, just below the band of the sport’s bra you kept on. At least that one bit of dignity was allowed.

He was gentle you had to admit. First, he identified all the spots that needed attention and then went on to clean them with a wet cloth. With his face this close, looking over the parts of your body that you were self-conscious about, it did not take long for anxiety to kick in. The fact that it was Neil, the man who you had tried desperately not to fall for, only made it worse. The faster breaths and shaking hands did not go past his attention. He leaned back, searching your face for any clues about what was going on. He must have found the answers quickly.

“Hey, it’s okay” tipping your chin, he turned your face, forcing you to meet his soft gaze “I didn’t mean that I don’t care… about how you look, because I really do” you were surprised to see him nervous “I know that this isn’t the most comfortable situation for either of us but…” he trailed off, looking for words.

It looked like the anger from earlier was gone, and now he was just as tense as you were. It was increasingly hard not to think about all those times you got a little too close. You had a sudden feeling this might be the moment that the dreaded ‘elephant’ will make its appearance after four days of silence. And you were not wrong.

“You know… What I said the other day?” he asked, and even though you knew what was coming, you felt your heart speed up.

You did not respond, instead choosing to stare at him curiously with a dose of apprehension.

“It wasn’t just alcohol talking” the earnest look in his eyes was not helping “I have realized that recently but I do l-“

Okay, that was enough.

“You’re making it worse” you interrupted him, refusing to maintain the eye contact any longer.

You were scared of what you both could potentially see. The whole situation was somehow getting more and more overwhelming.

“I want you to know that it doesn’t matter that this is how I first saw you... I...”

You used the break in his rambling to bring an end to the suffering. You reached out and placed your hand over his mouth. The blue eyes glanced at you, perplexed and lost. It seemed like neither of you knew how to deal with this situation.

“Neil, please stop” you muttered, hoping that maybe if you showed him the extent of your discomfort, he would understand “I know what you’re doing but please… I’d rather we didn’t talk about it right now”

Before you could retract your palm, he grabbed it and kissed your knuckles lightly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… everything that happened today has been rather draining and now…” he sighed and squeezed your hand before letting go “Should I…?” he motioned at the first aid materials on the side.

“Yeah, let’s get this over and done with” you attempted a small smile, which he mirrored.

You let him continue the work, cleaning the cuts and scratches, applying ointment to the burns. He frowned when he noticed the wound that began the whole affair – a rather large cut on your side, a result of colliding with a piece of debris from the plane. The silence made you think. Probably a little too much. Finally, after battling with yourself, you decided to ask:

“Why did you get so angry? If it were you, you wouldn’t even care”

Neil glanced at you, seemingly unbothered. His long fingers brushed over your rib cage thoughtlessly. So far, you were succeeding at ignoring the very way his touch made you feel.

“That’s the difference, it’s you, not me,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and went back to his task.

“Does that really matter?” you hissed when he applied some hydrogen peroxide to the cut.

“It does to me” the blue eyes met yours with defiance you did not expect.

Oh. You inhaled, realising the implications behind his statement. Suddenly, his proximity, the gentle touch, and the things he said meant much more. Because if he cared so extremely, then maybe… maybe he did actually mean it. Surprisingly, the doubtful voice was not present to give any counterarguments. You took that as a sign to let yourself do what you wanted.

You reached out and dragged your hand through Neil’s hair, making him look up with a surprise. As your eyes met, just for once, you decided to look at him without holding anything back. You poured all the fondness, attraction, affection, and desire into that look. It was enough. Neil exhaled as he took in the sight. For a second, he rested his chin on your lap, staring up at you.

“If you keep on looking at me like that, I’ll do something stupid” it was a warning, and yet you found that you were not scared.

“Like what?” the confidence was new but not unwelcomed.

“Do you really want to know?” that was a challenge.

Something changed in the way he was looking at you. The softness got replaced with darkness you got to know well. Only this time, seeing him like this made you want to experiment. Using the hand that you ruffled his hair with, you traced the outline of his sharp jaw. That simple gesture had much effect on Neil. He dropped the cloth onto the floor and stood up abruptly. Before you could determine what to expect in response, he motioned for you to get up as well. One look at his tense posture was enough to make you decide and obey. Once you were levelled, he made you turn around to look at the bruise below your right shoulder blade. With your back turned and inability to see what his eyes held, you had to depend on the way he touched you. Something felt different. Especially in how close he stepped and how his fingers trailed over the skin surrounding the purple bruise. Then, before you could prepare, you felt his breath on the back of your neck. You shivered as he kissed your shoulder and pulled you flush against his chest. Arms encircled your waist, taking time to explore every curve. Fuck.

“Neil… what…” the coherence was gone.

All you could do was gasp when he lightly scratched the skin on your stomach.

“Let me show you what’s going on” his voice was huskier than you have ever heard it.

He started kissing the back of your neck with urgency. Looking for support, you grabbed the hands that were wrapped around your stomach and held on tight, only gripping stronger when he started biting the skin on your shoulder. You knew that was bound to leave marks. With every new kiss and bite, Neil was getting more confident, using the lack of your protests as a sign to continue. In response, you could only give him access to new spots on your neck.

Using a break in his exploration, you turned in the embrace to face him. The darkness of his irises and blown pupils were enough to make you feel faint. His parted lips were the only thing you could focus on, desperate to kiss him again. Before you could lean in, he whispered:

“If you want to stop, this is the right moment” with how close you were you could see his long eyelashes and slightly crooked nose.

He was beautiful. Feeling the steady grip of his hands on your waist and seeing the longing in his eyes, you realized that, in fact, you did not want to stop. Not when his every touch and kiss made you feel wanted like never before. Neil was still waiting for consent, looking at you with adoration. That was all you needed to tip the scales. You nodded and pulled him closer by entangling your hand in his hair. As your lips crashed, he let out a groan. A giggle rose in your throat and tinted your next kiss with sighs. The heated kisses were everything you needed. He was never close enough. Desperately, your hands tugged at his shirt but to no avail. You let out a frustrated whine when he broke the kiss and took half a step back. The playful sparks in his eyes were enough to assure you that he knew exactly what to do. With wide eyes and shallow breath, you let him part your knees with his long leg, providing support as his hands continued the reverent exploration of your upper body. Hands palming your breasts through the thin fabric of the sports bra were enough to make you curse. The heat flowing through your veins was pooling in your lower stomach, making everything hazy.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

The intoxicating smell of his cologne was slowly overwhelming the last bits of sanity.

“That bad?” Neil sounded smug.

His hands travelled south now, brushing over your sides and settling on the skin just above the trousers hemline. All it took was for him to scratch that spot under the belly button, and you shuddered. The only response from him was a short laugh that revibrated through your embraced bodies. That raspy sound was more than revelatory. Suddenly the leg that was so conveniently placed between your knees became the only thing you could focus on. Hooking one of your legs around his hip, you ground down on his thigh, beginning a little movement to ease the ache. That kind of friction had to do.

If he was surprised by your actions, he did not show it, instead working on unbuckling your belt. His hand slipped just as far as the band of your trousers allowed, testing the waters. The gasp and the way your fingers dug into his biceps were all he needed to continue. You sucked on the skin of his neck, wanting nothing but to mark him in any way. At that moment, you realized one thing – you wanted him to be yours. The quiet moan he let out upon your action made you believe that maybe he wanted that too.

The moment he succeeded at undoing the belt on your jeans, you could not hold back the only plea that came to mind.

“Neil, I…” you breathed in his scent, hoping to find salvation in any way possible.

You what? Need you? Want you?... Love you? Perhaps you did.

He responded by unbuttoning your jeans and meeting your eyes for the first time in a while. You knew that was the final opportunity to back out. His eyes were almost black, clouded with the need that made your breath hitch. You did not want to imagine what sight he saw in your flushed face and unfocused eyes. All you could think, and feel was him; his hands knowing exactly where you needed his touch; his eyes making you feel wanted and important. It suddenly made sense, every shared look and close encounter building up to this exact moment. You leaned in, determined to kiss him again when a knock resounded in the bathroom.

“Mahir is here” TP’s voice breaking through the silence was like a sharp wake up call.

You stopped with your lips brushing against Neil’s, sharing a breath. Your eyes met, and you could see that he was just as shocked as you were. There was no going back from this. He closed the distance and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips before taking a definitive step back. You disentangled from him, feeling embarrassment take over any other emotion. Once you were stood on your own again, you swayed a little, overwhelmed by the situation. Even now, Neil noticed and reached out to steady you, carefully touching your arm. Without a word, he picked up your shirt from the floor and passed it to you with a rather contrite expression in his eyes. That was worrying. You swallowed the increasing panic and quickly got dressed, using the fact that he turned away, giving you privacy. While the gesture was thoughtful, you could not help but worry that it meant he was having regrets. Or worse, that he realized that this was not something he actually wanted. Battling those thoughts, you splashed cold water onto your face, hoping to cool off the flushed skin. Looking up at the mirror over the sink, you noticed those blue eyes watching you closely.

“Go, have that whiskey. I’ll join you in a minute” he spoke when you turned to face him.

The space between you felt like an ocean that neither of you could breach. You noticed the furrowed brow and conflicted eyes.

“Neil...” your voice sounded strange without that passionate tone “Are you alright?” you watched him with concern.

What if that’s how you fucked it all up? You could feel the incoming panic attack at the thought. That probably cleared up the question of your own feelings on the matter.

“I just need a moment” upon seeing your worried eyes, he stepped in closer again “Don’t worry, it’s not about this”

But what if…? You desperately wanted to get rid of the sabotaging brain. As though Neil was reading your mind, he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. The softness took your breath away. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly until you could think straight again.

“Think we should join before they…” he trailed off, and you were hit with the realization of how suspicious the whole situation was.

Bloody hell.

“Yeah, sure,” you hesitated before asking the seemingly most crucial question, “Are we… are we okay?” once you stumbled over it, you met his eyes timidly.

None of that previous bravado could be found right now. You wondered how it changed within mere minutes.

“Yes, of course. Never been better” he picked up a stray long hair from his shirt.

A tell-tale sign of what happened. Or nearly happened. You eyed him curiously once more, to assure yourself that he was real and fine. Your eyes froze on the reddish mark on his neck, visible through the unbuttoned collar. Your work. Feeling shame burn on your cheeks, you decided to let him know.

“Neil… there’s… you’ve got…” you huffed, unable to formulate the sentence.

He was watching you with a charming expression in his eyes, making the matters worse.

“You might want to look in the mirror before you go outside” you blurted out the sentence and added, “I’m sorry”.

You could not miss the way his eyes lit up as he glanced at the mirror then.

“Nothing to be sorry about” he sent you a smirk.

*** When you finally joined TP and Mahir, you realized how badly that whiskey was needed. You took a long sip even before acknowledging them both. If that was in any way surprising, they did not show. And neither did they comment on how long you and Neil stayed in that bathroom. Luckily. You hugged Mahir and settled down on the sofa.

“Are you alright?” TP eyed you quickly.

“Yeah, I’ll live” you smiled lightly, enjoying the way alcohol hit, taking the edge off.

“Neil made himself useful, I hope”

Oh no. You tried to mask the horrified expression on your face by taking another large gulp. Fucking hell. It was meant to be a joke, but you had a hard time finding words again. This was looking to be a long evening…

“Yeah, he did” you looked up for a split second and gave your brightest grin.

That had to do. You had no way of knowing whether TP bought that because, at that moment, Neil chose to make an appearance.

“Good to see you back Mahir” he wandered over to the man in question and slapped his shoulder gently.

You took the notice of his shirt collar, buttoned up all the way. Without the tie, that looked suspicious. At that moment, you vowed to never again let yourself get that lost in such circumstances. Even for Neil, the embarrassment was not worth it. You kept on staring as he poured himself a shot of whiskey. Huh. Apart from that, he looked perfectly composed.

“So… how did it go on your end?” Neil joined you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance.

His eyes flicked between you and Mahir.

“Everything perfect up until the last moment” your partner looked at you with interest “But maybe that’s best explained by Y/N”

“There isn’t much to explain… I… uh, got caught up by unexpected obstruction and had to make late-exit onto the tarmac just before the explosion” you shrugged halfheartedly.

The three pairs of eyes were staring at you with a wide range of emotions. TP was shocked, perhaps a little worried and suspicious. Mahir was perplexed, undoubtedly wondering why your story felt so disjointed. And Neil was looking at you with that same concerned and infatuated expression you knew well. Sighing, you tried to steer the attention away.

“What matters is that it went well, and we’re most likely getting away” you plastered a weak smile onto your face.

“Fair point” Mahir came to your rescue “How about you lads? Everything good?”

TP tensed at the question. You knew that he would rather keep you all out of the circle of those initiated. To him, all three of you were only helping, necessary but costly additions to making his mission succeed. You were not supposed to know the truth.

“The distraction worked” he answered, finally, smiling at Neil lightly “No one suspected anything, and we had time to explore the pentagon” he hesitated.

Your eyes flicked to Neil, but his troubled expression gave nothing away.

“I got my answers and even more questions” that was a definite answer, as TP picked up his drink from the table.

“And the rest is silence, huh?” Neil smirked, and you glared at him.

You ignored the warmth that spread in your chest upon seeing his cheeky smile and sparkling eyes. Shit. He mirrored your look with a little head tilt, still smiling. The look in his eyes was something you could not describe. But it felt important. Before you could contemplate it further, TP replied.

“Well… yes. The job is done for you, and unfortunately, I can’t give you any explanation” he shrugged apologetically.

Not everything is so different.

“Understood” you nodded curtly and focused your gaze on the carpet.

“Well, if this is our last night together… we might as well have fun” Neil got up, on the way brushing his hand over your knee.

You clenched your jaw. His nerve never failing to surprise you.

“Anyone wants more whiskey?” he raised the bottle, undoubtedly glancing at you.

“Yes, please,” you deadpanned.

When he came over to give you a refill, you stared at the ruffled blonde hair and inhaled the whiff of his cologne that accompanied him. Creepy or not, it was needed.

Once everyone had the needed amount of alcohol, you drifted into a rather confusing terrain of trying to talk to TP without disclosing anything significant about yourselves. Mahir went first, and you were surprised by how good he was at spinning his life story in a way that made him seem like a freelancer. He mentioned working with Neil, another fellow free spirit. That seemed strangely fitting, and the boss bought it in no time. And then he asked about you. Or more precisely, how come you had all that experience and where Neil knew you from.

“I’ve started the freelancing gig a few years back after gaining experience in the gov” the lie rolled off your tongue easily.

All that thanks to alcohol.

“You’ve worked with British Intelligence?” TP arched his eyebrow skeptically.

You knew what he meant; you were quite young for that kind of experience.

“Yeah, I was a young prodigy,” you shrugged, attempting smugness “And then Neil and I met on a little job recently” you glanced at the man in question and found him staring at you “He must’ve taken his liking to me since he went straight to me for this one” you smirked upon seeing Neil’s eyes widen.

How about that? It did not take him long to recover.

“Who can blame me if I did” he grinned “You’re good at what you do. And at everything really” he batted his eyelashes at you.

Stifling the urge to groan, you replied:

“Thank you, I’ll take that,” downing the rest of the drink, you got up “I’m pretty tired, so I’ll head off now. It was a pleasure to work with all of you” you shook TP’s hand and nodded at Mahir.

Neil was to be ignored. Which was inconvenient given the fact that he was the one to let you of the apartment. Once you were out of sight in the narrow corridor, he placed his hand on your waist, effectively pinning you to the wall. You gaped at him, surprised and intrigued. He leaned in close and whispered:

“Thought you’d know better than to slip out without saying goodbye,” he nuzzled your neck, just below the ear.

You shivered, unable to pretend that it was not working. You realized that act might need to be given up now.

“I was hoping you’ve had enough of me tonight” biting hard onto your lower lip you tried to level your breathing.

Neil kissed your neck before responding.

“I wouldn’t count on that” he took his time, breathing you in and making sure you understood his intentions.

“Ever?” you cringed at how breathless you sounded already.

“Mhmm” he left one more reverent kiss in the crook of your neck before raising his head “For me, this was only a little prelude” his eyes sparkled playfully.

He grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“Fantastic. Now let me go, please?” you ignored the voice that suggested letting him do whatever the hell he wanted to you.

But it was easier said than done. Your breath hitched when he lightly nibbled on your earlobe, letting his hand travel down your hip and then between your thighs in a smooth movement. Relentless bastard. The previous ache was threatening to come back at any moment. And now was definitely not the time. You leaned back as far as the wall allowed you and glared at him. With a cheeky smile, he retracted his hand and beamed at you, ever so innocently.

“Of course,” he kissed you on the lips chastely, for the second time tonight, “I’m nothing but a gentleman”

“That’s debatable” up this close his eyes seemed too blue to be real “Goodnight, Neil”

“Night night, darling” letting go of you, he opened the door with a flourish “Sleep well and dream of me” he winked when you were out in the corridor.

“Kindly, fuck off darling” you stormed down the corridor.

It did not take him long to keep on bothering you. Entering your own hotel room fifteen minutes later, you heard the text chime:

“Good thing I’ve got that scarf with me” Idiot. You grinned fondly despite yourself.

“You have a slap incoming, I think” you typed back and lied down on the bed.

“You can start tomorrow night with that then” that did not take him long.

Ah yes, your night out… absolutely terrifying.

“Is it still on?” you nibbled on your lip, not sure what sort of answer you wanted.

“Of course. If anything, tonight gave more reasons to take you out”

Okay… You rolled onto your stomach and hid your face in the pillow. Now that is going to be a nerve-wracking day… and night. You had a feeling those butterflies in your stomach were not going to stop.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion #image not mine

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evandearest · 3 years

Text

The Garden of Eden | Part I: Cycles

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (1/4)~

Summary (Part One): Life with James March involved has had many cycles. In a time long ago, you once flourished. But things don’t always stay the same forever, do they? Will James find his way back to you?

Warnings (in this part): physical / mental / verbal abuse (child and adult), violence, graphic descriptions of murder / blood, dark themes, heartbreak, extreme emotional grief, just overall dark. avoid if any of the aforementioned is triggering.

Word count: 2,223

IMPORTANT Notes: Hello! I’m so excited to start this series that @etoile-writings requested that I can hardly type fast enough! lol. I really hope that I can do this justice!

The request was: juxtaposition - (noun) the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect. AND true love over a forced marriage + lots of fun ideas, such as flowers. Read on my blog for more if you want. I also suck at summaries but I thought I’d give it a try.

Speaking of flowers, I just wanted to say specifically to the requester: I didn’t just pick white roses because they are my personal favorite, but also because of their symbolism to the reader character. White roses symbolize purity, innocence, and youthfulness, associating with young love and eternal loyalty, and can also symbolize a new beginning and everlasting love. Just wanted to say that because I found it very interesting and symbolic!

SO... I have a few notes before we begin. 1) This is set before James died, approximately the year 1926. Since this is a fan-fictional story, the events are slightly warped from the show. The main plot of the show still flows, but this is kind of worked in, in a way. So the plot of the show doesn’t really change all that much. The second thing 2) a lot of things in this story will become clear as I post more parts. There will be more flashbacks and the plot will expand drastically. This is pretty much just an introduction. Just wanted to put that out there. And 3) I plan to do four parts, but that may be subject to change.

Some things never change.

That you had found to be true. The cycle of life was incredible. The lessons in life you were meant to learn were imprinted into your being by repetitious events that were sometimes out of your control. You knew that too well.

People had always told you, “God works in mysterious ways.” It hadn’t been so apparent to you until you had experienced that mystery yourself. It seemed that your life had entered its second cycle. It seemed that you had lived this exact moment once before.

Your head was pounding, a moan sounding when his fist collided into your side again. You kept your arms up in defense, as it was the only thing stopping him from hitting your face. That hurt much worse, and it was harder to hide. Explaining to your neighbors why there are bruises on your face was the last thing you would need. You’d already done it last time this had happened. Of course, you hadn’t expected this to happen again. You’d put too much faith into your husband. A wretched sob left your burning throat, your face soaking wet with tears.

“Please stop,” you pleaded, whimpering, while your husband Robert laughed.

“Maybe next time you should just keep your mouth shut,” he spat, sighing as he rubbed his knuckles. A fleeting memory flashed before your eyes.

“Maybe next time you should just keep your mouth shut!”

“I-I’m sorry!” you cried, clutching your jaw as you scrambled across the floor.

“Yeah, of course you are now,” the old man said maliciously, towering over your small frame. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think in vain of yourself. You can’t believe that a man would ever want a woman who talked to him like that. You believe that because you’re so innocent people will treat you as such.” He squatted down in front of you, his face getting closer to yours. “Well, I have something you need to know, young girl. Most of us humans don’t really care about others.” He chuckled again, standing up. “We’re all in it for ourselves.” He shook his head. His fist pulled back again, and you gasped, throwing your arms over your head.

“Leave her alone!”

James came racing into the room, his hands pushing his father’s fist away before it hit you. He shoved him back, and you watched in amazement. You couldn’t believe that he stood up to his father. Just moments before, as he had told you of the abuse, he had been shaking at even the thought of his father hitting him.

That’s what had led you into the conversation in the first place. When James had told you of how his father had been treating him since he was seven years old to now, at almost eighteen, you couldn’t help yourself. You’d thought that confrontation would stop him, or maybe he would realize how wrong it was if you had showed him. You were wrong, and now here you were, your favorite floral blouse torn, your jaw aching from the impact of his father’s hit.

You were wrong, and now James was in another bad situation. You stared at James, wondering why he would ever step in. Why he would ever step in when he knew what his father would do.

“You stupid boy!” The old man yelled, his fist striking James’ face. “Do you just like being beat? Don’t tell me it’s because you love this naïve girl!” James’ glare burned holes into his father’s face, his jaw set firmly.

It clicked behind your eyes. He loved you. He stepped in because he was protecting you, because he didn’t want you to experience what he had.

His father chuckled as he looked between the two of you; James now standing beside your form on the floor. He shook his head, and left the room without another word, although he slammed the door. You jumped at the loud impact, scurrying to stand beside James. There was a moment of silence before you spoke.

“James,” you whispered, studying his face. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was listening. “Do you believe him? Are all people really that selfish?”

James still remained silent, but that was enough of an answer for you. You simply couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that all people only cared about themselves. Not when you had seen it for yourself, firsthand with James and your family, or even the kindness of strangers.

But you were wrong again. Your own father had proved that to you when he had you married off to Robert Williams for money. It opened your eyes, and only then had you seen everything that people did just to get what they wanted. And now you know that the only person who ever cared about you was James. And you were ripped away from him just before you were able to begin a life with him, all because your father didn’t believe he would be able to take care of you. You’d never even known he cared so much about James’ wealth, or lack thereof.

For a while, that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d still think about James in your every waking moments. Sure, you’d settled into your new life with your new husband. At first, you had even gotten along with one another. You learned how to accept what you had, keep your spirit, and be as grateful as you could for simple things such as safety. But that changed too. The problem arose at the topic of children. To you, the thought of having a child with Robert made you sick to your stomach. You just didn’t want to fake it with him, but you didn’t know how to tell him that. You couldn’t give and raise a child with a man you didn’t love. You supposed it was because you still had hope that you’d see James again. For many years, he had believed your excuses, until he had grew tired of you pushing it off. That’s where the anger and violence had begun. So you ran.

At the very moment that you read about James in the newspaper, you ran. You ran straight to his luxurious brand new hotel. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that poor boy you’d left behind all those years ago had turned into such a successful man. You’d just hoped that he still loved you like you loved him; that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

But once again, as life repeats, you were wrong. James’ life was nothing you ever could have imagined. He’d built his hotel from scratch, and that was after he had clawed his way up the chain of command. He was filthy rich, living life in the most prosperous way imaginable, his power undeniable. You were in awe. If only your father could see him now. If only he’d seen what you had in James all those years ago when he had first began his journey to being a self-made man.

But wealth wasn’t the only thing that had changed. James obviously didn’t love you anymore. How could he, when he had a new wife? Elizabeth was her name. She seemed lovely, and it was wrong of you to assume he would never move on from you. Even if you’d never moved on from him.

So you stayed. You had no choice but to at this point. You had no where else to turn, no where else to go, no real life of your own. Just memories of a life long ago to hold onto.

You wept as you curled in on yourself. Your husband stood there, his breathing heavy as he glared at you with the anger of a thousand hurricanes in his eyes.

“You were the biggest mistake of my life,” he snarled, an expression of disappointment settling on his face. “A wife that won’t even give me children.” He scoffed and chuckled dryly. “What a pathetic joke.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You cupped your hands over your face, sniffling.

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly boomed, his fist raising once again. You shouted out in protest at the incoming attack, bracing yourself for the pain.

At what seemed to be the most perfect timing, a knock sounded at the front door.

Robert froze in his place, his fist hovering in mid-air. You sighed in relief, pushing yourself further into the wall, balled up in a fetal position on the floor. He turned, shooting a hesitant look back at you, before slowly making his way to answer the door.

The door handle jiggled as he opened it, and although you couldn’t see, you listened intently from your position in the living room.

“Hello,” Robert greeted whomever was on the other side of the door. “May I help you?”

“Greetings, sir,” replied the voice of a man. You froze. You could’ve sworn you knew that voice. But it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” said your husband.

“Would it happen that a woman by the name of ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ resides here?” said the man. You let out a breath. It was him. It was James.

Robert paused, and you began contemplating revealing yourself.

“She’s busy,” Robert rushed out nervously.

There was another pause, this time from James.

“I’m not sure you’re telling the truth, sir,” said James. “You seem to be quite flustered.”

“She- she can’t come right now,” Robert demanded, “she’s busy. Come another time.”

You panicked. He was going to make him leave! This was your only chance!

“Help!” you shouted, before even having time to think about it.

Before you knew it, the man you had dreamed of for so many years was standing before you. You gasped as your eyes met his, the same dark brown framed by his sharp masculine features. It was as if you had seen the sun after years in the dark. Your eyes took in his features before shifting to look at the object in his hands. A bouquet of white roses lay clasped between his hands; your flowers. He had remembered. He really had come back for you. Finally, you had your James again.

“What is the meaning of this?” Robert shouted as he followed quickly behind James. James’ head turned slowly to look at the man, his jaw locking firmly as his eyes settled on him.

“How about,” James clicked his tongue, pausing for a mere second, “you explain the meaning of this.” He gestured toward you, his head turning to briefly look at you again. Robert crossed his arms.

“I don’t think I’m inclined to tell you anything,” he said, a look of resentment taking over his expression. “In fact, I think you should see your way out.” James stared at the man for a moment before his lips upturned into a small smirk.

“Of course,” he grinned, his accent drawing the words out. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly began walking towards the hallway to the front door. No, you thought. He couldn’t leave. You thought he had come back for you. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed him the most. Not when you’d waited this long.

Just as your hopes had almost been crushed, James spun around. What happened next was hard to process immediately. Blood suddenly covered James’ face and chest, spurting out from Robert’s throat as James’ knife slid smoothly across, the skin slicing like butter. James stood, a look of satisfaction on his face, his eyes settling upon yours. A flicker of what seemed like doubt rushed across his face as you grew silent, your eyes wide and innocent as you stared at him, digesting what had just happened.

“James?” you whispered.

“Yes, dear?” he said smoothly, his jaw moving back and forth slowly as he worked it nervously. You climbed to your feet, padding over to him softly. Your hand slowly came up to rest upon his cheek, thumb softly gliding over the bone there, the blood on his face smearing with the movement. Your other hand gently grabbed the roses from his hands, glancing down at them adoringly, your lips curling into a smile.

“Darling,” James said hesitantly, eyebrows furrowing, “I apologize if I’ve frightened you.” You smiled up at him.

“No,” you said reassuringly. “No, quite the opposite.” You paused, studying James’ handsome features. You leaned in slowly, your breaths mingling. “You’ve freed me.” It was a whisper, barely audible, but at your close proximity, you knew he could hear. You could feel the warmth of his body so close to yours as you moved closer and closer. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, James arms enveloping you, the world seeming to align once more.

It seemed as if you had no worries, no hardships; that all of your anxieties had magically disappeared with his kiss. He’d reset your life. He’d given you everything you wanted just by being in yours. All those years that you had waited for him seemed worth it. All of your blind devotion seemed worth it. James had finally, finally come back to you.

All those people had been right: God did work in mysterious ways. And in that moment, you decided James was your meant to be; your heaven on Earth; your purpose of being. Or further... he was your God.

---

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

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ill-go-with-that-then · 5 years

Text

A NEW ERASERMIC AU I'LL NEVER WRITE!

Imagine Aizawa works at Buzzfeed, and gets the idea to write an article about how Twitch streaming is stupid and pointless (because he’s a video game snob.) He chooses Present Mic’s channel to watch at random, because he’s super popular, but Aizawa immediately goes from undercover reporter to absolute fan. No middle ground. Just “huh, okay i was wrong” and subscribes.

He tunes in to all the live streams, because Mic is very funny and also very good at video games, and it’s cool to watch him play. He has skills, his commentary is A+, and Aizawa develops a little crush. But it’s not a big deal!! Mic is a celeb, Aizawa knows they’ll never meet, it’s harmless.

Sometimes the chat for the stream gets assholes in it, as you’d expect. Mic can’t monitor the chat too much, but Aizawa has no problems telling jerks where to stick it. And once, after a particularly egregious incident where some moron said something crude about women in gaming and Aizawa ripped him a new asshole, Mic sends him a personal message thanking him and asking him if he wants to be a mod, which of course, he does. He doesn’t know how to reply - this is his big chance to talk to Mic!! So of course he just says “sure” - no further conversation.

Aizawa has, of course, zero personal details on his Twitch account. No info, no icon, his screen name is a random string of numbers, he’s a ghost. The Ron Swanson of video game enthusiasts.

So Aizawa is working at Buzzfeed, living his best life writing articles like “10 Video Game Themed Products You Can’t Live Without” because journalism is in shambles and he drinks to forget, and one day his editor is like “hey, we’re gonna do a feature on Twitch streamers. Everybody is gonna go sit and watch a stream in person and get the behind the scenes info. Here’s a list of people who agreed.” And PRESENT MIC IS ON THE LIST

One of his colleagues reaches for Mic’s info sheet, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I can’t believe these are considered celebrities. Have you ever heard of any of them?”

Aizawa practically slaps the paper out of his hand. “Present Mic is a consummate professional and his content is high-quality and entertaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand it since it involves technology more current than a compact disc.”

The room goes silent. Nobody’s heard Aizawa say anything nice about... maybe anything? Ever? But his editor, Kayama, pounces immediately. “WELL if you like him so much, Aizawa, that can be your interview!!”

Aizawa panics. On the one hand, he wasn’t going to let anyone else take that assignment. But on the other hand, now he’s going to meet Mic IN PERSON. During a LIVE STREAM. Is he supposed to tell him he’s a fan? Is that tacky? Will his crush be obvious? What if Mic sucks in person?? This is a double edged sword.

He only gets more nervous on the day of the interview. He’s tempted to dress up a little, look his best. Mic is a good-looking guy after all, and he’s always well put together when he streams. And even though Aizawa knows, knows he really doesn’t have a chance, he still doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

BUT he also doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard. That’s not who he is, and dressing up would be admitting to himself that he DOES want something more than a simple interview, even if it’s as little as Mic’s good opinion or positive attention.

He debates too long. While he’s still thinking about it, the alarm on his phone goes off, alerting him that it’s time to leave. He’s still in his pink sweatpants and he hasn’t shaved, and he realizes, just at that moment, that he probably should have tried harder at least for the sake of professionalism. But it’s too late. He has to go.

Mic actually doesn’t live all that far away. Just a short train ride, less than 20 minutes, and Aizawa is standing in front of his nondescript apartment. It’s a little odd - Mic is a very popular streamer, theoretically with income to match, and his style seems flashy. Aizawa had expected something a little more over the top. But this place is simple. Storing that information away for later, he knocks.

“COMING!!” He hears from inside the apartment, followed by the thud of footsteps. Aizawa just has one moment to brace himself because this is it before the door opens and there he is. Present Mic himself, all smiles. “Come in, come in!! You’re from buzzfeed right? Wow, this is so exciting!!” Mic ushers him in the door, taking his jacket and hustling him into a tidy living room before Aizawa can even respond. And of course, when he finally gets himself together enough to say something, the first words out of his mouth are “You’re... tall.”

He wants to smack himself. Yes, Mic is taller than Aizawa had realized from the stream, even a little taller than Aizawa himself. But those are thinking words, not speaking words. Certainly not the first words you use to introduce yourself to your celebrity crush. But Aizawa, a champion moment-ruiner, has made his bed, and now he must cry in it.

But Mic just laughs. “Yeah,” he says, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “I get that a lot. Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize,” Aizawa says immediately, then wonders if he is, in fact, under some sort of curse. “Shouta Aizawa,” he introduces himself.

“Hizashi Yamada, also known as Present Mic!” Yamada’s smile is friendly, like Aizawa hasn’t made an absolute fool of himself so far, and Aizawa has to look away from it. He glances around the room, which is tidy and clean, but cluttered with various objects that seem to have no connection to each other. There are books in a variety of languages, musical instruments, shelves of CDs, and an assortment of other things that have nothing to do with video games.

“Quite a collection you have,” Aizawa says, because it is, and because he’s curious.

“Yeah! I have too many hobbies but what can you do? Come on, I’m sure you’d rather see my workspace.” It’s not true, Aizawa has seen the office where Yamada streams before, and he’d much rather stay here and poke around, build up his mental picture about who Yamada is outside his Present Mic persona. But he’s not here for that. This is business.

But the streaming room is also not what Aizawa expects. Some things are familiar - the area visible to the camera is the same, set up and ready for tonight’s stream, but the rest of the room, the part that isn’t on screen, is PACKED. There’s a wobbly desk in the corner, covered in neatly stacked papers and binders labeled by month and year. The wall over the desk is a massive whiteboard filled with notes and ideas for upcoming streams. And there, in the lower right corner of the whiteboard, right where it would be even with Hizashi’s eyes as he sits at his desk, is a familiar string of numbers - his own Twitch username. And next to it is a little note - don’t forget. Good dude.

Aizawa sees his username and just - freezes. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mic thought of him at all outside of that one occasion he DM’d him, let alone that he considered Aizawa important enough not to forget. And the idea that Mic thinks he’s a “good dude” makes his face BURN in pleased embarrassment. He wants to say something but what? Is it weird? It’s weird, it’s too weird, and before he can think of how to do it, Mic is talking again.

“Okay, this is where the magic happens!! Actually, it’s more like weeks of frustration and repetition followed by 3-4 hours of intensely stressful streaming, but hey! People seem to like it!!” Aizawa wants to say something here - Mic is being a little too self-deprecating for his taste, but he stops himself. He can’t defend Mic’s honor to Mic himself - can he? The moment passes while he debates.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be on camera or not?” Mic says, tentatively.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” says Aizawa. “I’m more the behind the scenes type.”

“Totally, no problem!” Mic says, gesturing to his desk. “You can sit there, if that’s okay? The only other seat is by me.”

Aizawa looks at the chair, then back to the small couch where Mic will be streaming from. “I think I’ll have to be closer to get photos for the article, if that’s all right.”

“You’ll be on camera,” Mic bites his lip. “I mean, maybe i could re-angle it, but then the screen-“

“It’s fine,” Aizawa says. “Journalism is about hardship.”

Mic snorts, and Aizawa can’t keep a little smirk off his face, proud that he got a laugh.

The stream goes smoothly - Aizawa likes it even more like this, without the chat to distract him, and close enough to notice things he’s never seen before. Mic’s feet twitch when he’s focusing hard, and his socks have cats on them. It’s adorable. Aizawa takes no notes - he doesn’t really need to, he’s seen enough streams to write this article in his sleep, and anyway, it’s not like he’s going to forget a minute of this.

Afterwards, once they’ve signed off, Mic talks him through his post show routine, everything from calculating how much he made and comparing it to previous weeks in a spreadsheet to going over the chat. “Huh,” Mic’s eyebrows crease as he looks at the chat logs. “Things got a little out of hand tonight.”

“Oh?” Aizawa says, shuffling uncomfortably. He suspects he knows why that is.

“Yeah, one of my regular mods wasn’t on tonight. I hope he’s all right - it’s not like him to miss.”

“You have a lot of viewers,” Aizawa says, tentative now. “Do you know them all so well?”

Mic shrugs, embarrassed. “No, i wish I did! But this guy’s special, he’s really funny and he keeps all the trolls in line. I’d DM him to see if he’s okay but that’s weird, right? That’s weird. And anyway I tried to talk to him once before but he shot me down.”

“I didn’t-“ Aizawa says before he can stop himself. The curse is real. Mic stares at him, open mouthed, confused at first but then his eyes widen as he realizes what must have happened. Before he can say anything, Aizawa cuts him off. “Sorry. That i couldn’t mod tonight.” He mumbles, hand buried in his hair. He can’t meet Mic’s eyes anymore. “I’ll be back next week.”

Mic opens his mouth to speak, but Aizawa interrupts again, before he can. “And I didn’t - I didn’t shoot you down. I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. Why would you?”

Mic blinks, and Aizawa isn’t sure what he’s going to say. Will he be mad? Aizawa kind of lied to him. Is he disappointed? Does Aizawa not look like he expected? Has he been too silent? Too unfriendly? Does Mic not want to get to know him anymore? But when Mic finally speaks, what comes out is

“I can’t believe you made me memorize that stupid fucking username, we’re picking you a new one right now.”

#erasermic #maizawa #my writing #my ramblings #I have no explanation for anything I do ever

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tumbledfreckles · 4 years

Text

Done

Jilytober Day 12: An Order Mission. Didn’t post this to here yesterday as I wasn’t happy, but it’s more Lily and Sirius and they’re my favourites today so enjoy.

AO3

Sirius slowly stretched his arms over his head, hearing as well as feeling cracks and pops from staying in one position for so long. He rolled his neck around and couldn’t surpress the low moan as his muscles protested the stretch.

“Shhhh,” Lily hissed beside him. He didn’t need to look to see her arms were still crossed over chest.

As they had been.

For eight hours.

“Chill, Evans. That was barely a sound.”

“They probably heard three streets over.”

“Hardly,” Sirius scoffed. “Just because your pissy at Prongs doesn’t mean you can take it out on me.”

“I’m not taking it out on you, I am angry at you,” Lily glared at Sirius before turning back to watch the building in front of them.

“What the fuck did I do?”

“You let him order you to bloody watch out for me,” Lily huffed. “As if I’m some bloody damsel in distress. As if I haven’t fought in as many battles as you both have. As if I haven’t saved your skin numerous times.”

“He wasn’t ordering me to look out for you, Evans.”

“He was. I saw him. I saw the look, and the head tilt. And I saw you nod back.”

“That’s not what that was.”

“Well, what was he doing then?”

Sirius sighed, “He wasn’t asking me to watch out for you. He was asking me to make sure you come home.”

“That’s the same bloody thing!” Lily’s whispered yell had all the same scary rage as her loud voice, Sirius couldn’t help thinking.

“And why is that a bad thing? Why is it so terrible that he wants to make sure you come home?” Sirius glared back at her now.

“Because he thinks I can’t look after myself! Like I shouldn’t be out here.”

“For Merlin’s sake. He doesn’t think that.”

“Then why the look?”

“Because he bloody loves you, you daft bint. He loves you so much and it drives him bloody crazy to be away from you.”

“He loves you too,” Lily frowned petulantly.

“And you get bet your arse that he gives Remus the same look when we’re sent off together that he gave me today.”

“Why doesn’t he look at me to save you then?”

Sirius smirked at the challenge in the tilt of her chin, “Priorities, Evans. There’s a pecking order and you’re at the top. Not because you can’t take care of yourself. But because your worth more than the rest of us combined.”

“Oh,” Lily was quiet for a few minutes. Her arms slowly relaxed, coming to rest in her lap. Her shoulders slumped forward, and her gaze went down.

“Alright, Evans?”

She smiled gently, “You sound like him when you ask me that.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Lily sighed, shaking her head. “I stormed out of that briefing, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Sirius confirmed.

“I didn’t say goodbye,” she said quietly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“He was being sent on a mission too, wasn’t he?” she asked fearfully.

“He was. Assigned right after you walked out. That’s why he couldn’t go after you,” Lily could see Sirius shrug his shoulders out of the corner of her eye as they both focused back on the building in front of them. It was nearing time.

“What if something happens to him and the last time we saw each other I was angry at him for caring too bloody much,” Lily half wailed.

“Be a pretty fitting reflection of your relationship, wouldn’t it? Ending how it began and all that, Ow! That hurt,” Sirius rubbed at his chest where Lily had taken a blind whack.

“Not funny, Black.”

“Oh, that’s low Evans, using the last name,” Sirius dodged another whack even as he continued to snicker. He paused for a second, staring closely at one of the windows as a shadow moved. “I wouldn’t worry about that being the last time you saw him, Evans.”

“Why’s that?” Lily asked distractedly as she too started to prepare to move, grasping her wand.

“Cause your boy got assigned to search that building after you left. And it looks like he’s got company,” Sirius moved to a crouch.

“What the fuck?” Lily whirled on Sirius even as she braced to run.

A light flashed in the window.

“Time to rescue your damsel, Evans, lets go,” Sirius pulled Lily on her elbow as they ducked around the bush they’d been hiding behind and sprinted across the street.

Lily barely had time to process that it was James currently holding his own against four dark robed attackers. She barely had time to think at all. Everything was instinct from the second she and Sirius burst through the door. She ducked, weaved, cast and conjured as she and Sirius took one each and worked to disarm and stun them.

Sirius was still dueling when she put down her dark wizard, and she whirled toward where James was still battling two Death Eaters. Anyone else wouldn’t have held out this long, but James was making his defence work look easier.

That’s all it really was though, Lily realised after only a few seconds. He was defending, counter cursing and deflecting, but couldn’t find a long enough gap to mount any real attack with the way the wizards were standing. His back was to the wall, and he was running out of space.

Firing several spells at once, Lily took advantage of the few moments of incapacitation of one of the wizards, to add a round house kick to his chest. The movement took the wizard further from James, while allowing Lily to maneuver herself closer. Quickly deflecting two incoming hexes from the remaining wizard, Lily brought herself to stand double breasted with her boyfriend.

“Alright?” He asked breathlessly between spells.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she gasped.

“Couldn’t let you guys have all the fun,” he smirked, and then ducked quickly as a spell narrowly missed his ear.

‘Not my idea of fun,” Lily pushed off the wall as she moved around a series of hexes and fired several back. She could see Sirius gaining ground across the room.

“Still mad at me?” James started to use a series of spells Lily recognised and provided the necessary shield work to cover him.

“Not the time,” she hissed.

“Ah, come on, it’s the perfect time,” he argued.

“It’s not. Ready?”

“Always, Evans,” James’ suggestive tone had Lily rolling her eyes despite the circumstances.

“Now,” on her yell they both fired a repulsion charm, hitting the wizard simultaneously, knocking him directly into the other Death Eater as Sirius knocked him unconscious. As the dust settled, Lily looked over at James.

“Still mad at me?” he asked hopefully.

Lily stared at him for a long moment and as he looked into her eyes, James’ smile fell. Sirius let loose a low whistle and busied himself tying up the three wizards and sending a Patronus back to headquarters for transport.

“Lil,” he started to uncertainly, but was cut off by Lily closing the gap between them with three long striding steps. “Oph,” he huffed as she collided with him, her arms wrapping around his middle, her head burying in his chest. He looked at Sirius over the top of his head, who only rolled his eyes. His arms curled around Lily, one hand gripping her waist and one the nape of her neck as he held her to him.

“New rule,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of her head. “What’s that?”

“We never leave for a mission angry,” Lily turned her gaze up to him, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Done,” he promised, pressing his lips to hers.

#jilytober #jilytober 2020 #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #freckles first dueling scene

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years

Text

Didn’t Delete

*Not My Gif*

Post date: 4-12-20

Paring: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 880 (it’s a short one guys)

~Master~

A/N: Alright so I don’t know what this was... um... I just kind wrote this instead of sleeping and working in requests and I’m too lazy to edit greatly but I think I got all the mistakes? I’m not sure. Also I’m putting a warning cause I don’t know comfort levels but it’s literally just sex chats. I’m so sorry.

WARNINGS: Talking about sex, that’s really it but like don’t read if you’re uncomfortable, I guess?, no actual smut cause I don’t write smut tho

Four-in-the-morning-you was a lot different than normal-hours-you. First of all, whereas during the day you had a filter of the words you were saying, middle of the night Y/N did not. And quite honestly, neither did Peter.

See that moment, instead of sleeping like you should’ve been doing, Peter and you were texting about a game of ‘would you rather’ Betty had started that afternoon during lunch. It was all fun until Ned asked you all an import question:

Would you rather have terrible sex for the rest of your life but it being amazing for your partner, or amazing sex but it being terrible for your partner.

Immediately you choose to have amazing sex, and most of your friends did as well. The only one who hadn’t was Peter, he choose terrible sex. At the time it didn’t bother you and you moved onto the next question. But now as Peter and you conversed about your day that question came back up.

Y/N: So you’re telling me, you’d rather for the rest of your life never, ever experience amazing sex?

You texted him, shaking your head in disbelief.

Peter: Yeah, Y/N. I honestly would.

You groaned at his response, knowing how much it sounded like your best friend.

Y/N: Okay fine! Explain!

Peter had a smile on his face as he texted back, his fingers moving sloppily across the screen, but he didn’t care.

Peter: Well I’d feel bad if the experience wasn’t great for her! It wouldn’t feel amazing for me if she wasn’t feeling the same way!

He saw the bubbles on the screen appear and disappear fast as you erased your words, trying to come up with the correct things to say.

Y/N: But Pete, imagine not having good sex. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ve faked an orgasm before and I don’t want to be doing that every time I have sex!

Peter’s eyes widened as his eyes scanned over your words, his fingers typing faster than he could think.

Peter: You’ve had sex before and you didn’t tell me?!

It was no secret to the rest of the group that Peter was crushing on you. And now he was reading that not only have you had sex, not to mention that you hadn’t told him, you also had to fake a orgasm. Which is exactly why he would choose the terrible sex. Peter could only imagine him and you whenever someone asked him about sex. He didn’t mean for these... feelings... to come about, but they did and he couldn’t rid himself of them.

The ding of your incoming text got his attention back.

Y/N: Okay, yeah sorry about the whole not telling you thing, it was a while ago, kind of slipped my mind. Doesn’t matter. What does matter is having terrible sex is NOT WORTH THE SATISFACTION OF YOUR PARTNER! OKAY?!?

You didn’t know if you fully believed yourself, all you knew is when you did ‘sacrifice’ your sex experience, it wasn’t worth it. But yet, given your minor- huge- crush on Peter, you also couldn’t help but think about him. If he would have the terrible sex, you would have the amazing sex and Peter was right, it wouldn’t feel right if he wasn’t enjoying it. But you couldn’t let him know that.

Peter: THEN WHAT IS WORTH IT?!

Y/N: NOTHING!

Peter: THEN WHY SHOULD THEY GIVE UP THEIR RIGHT TO A GOOD FUCK?!

You groaned loud, slapping your hand against your forehead. Damn why did Peter have to be so thoughtful! Even when he’s talking about fucking someone!

Y/N: WHY CAN’T YOU JUST AGREE WITH ME?!

Peter: WHY CANT YOU CHOOSE NICELY?

Both of you weren’t upset with the other, it was more like playful bickering. You were actually laughing as you typed your next message.

Y/N: FUCK YOU PETER!!

Peter: I WISH YOU WOULD!

Peters eyes scanned over his text when his fingers stop moving, a look of realization flashing across his face.

What the hell was he doing?! He couldn’t send you that!

He groaned and ran a hand over his face, moving his thumb across the screen to delete the words that could possibly ruin the friendship he’s built over the past years.

Oh how Peter wished he paid more attention to what he was doing because in one failed swoop, he sent the message.

It was an action he did all the time. You type the message, you send the message. Hardly ever had Peter typed a message out, let it sit then deleted it. You just don’t do it. But now as he watched the bubbles on the screen appear, his fears were coming to life. He turned off his phone, resting it on his chest as he awaited your reply.

He was all prepared for you to reject him. He knew there was no way the crush he had for you was two-sided because if it was then you would’ve said something? Right? You were always vocal about your thoughts, and you hardly ever kept things from Peter.

The phone dinged as Peter braces himself, picking up the device before it sprung to life, your text message lighting up the screen as Peter felt his heart stop.

Y/N: Then what are we waiting for?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: Yeah so thoughts? 😂

Tags open!

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys @chewymoustachio

Peter: @danielabetancourth @darktwistydiamond @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @missmulti

Marvel: @hahaboop @laic2299

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #peter parker fic #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman fic #spiderman #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel

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godkilller · 3 years

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ROLEPLAYING A FIGHT

DETAILS AND EXAMPLES.

As I touched on in my previous tips ‘n tricks post, fight threads should never happen in a void. There should be concrete connections to your character’s main storyline, their goals, their motivations, and other contributors to why and how they’ve found themselves in this current situation. That ALSO being said, the fight should literally not happen in a void: WHERE IS THIS CONFLICT TAKING PLACE? Describe, as an ‘establishing shot’, where your character is. Are they outside, is there a lot of room for them to run around and get into a scuffle? Are there trees, cars, buildings nearby? Will there be a high potential for objects (and people passing by) to get harmed / damaged in this battle? Does your character care about causing destruction during a fight, are they the type to say “let’s go somewhere else”?

Describing the space your characters are in is an excellent way of UNDERSTANDING WHERE YOUR CHARACTER STANDS, literally, because POSITIONING IS REALLY IMPORTANT! You don’t have to go absolutely crazy detailed when dishing out specs on where your characters are, but a general sense of “an opening within a clustered bamboo forest” or. “a half-constructed abandoned building” can really determine how the fight goes within that space, and most importantly how your character moves through that space.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER MOVE? Are they fluid, are they clumsy? Do they hunch, do they stand tall? Describing essential details pertaining to your character’s appearance, their demeanor, can help solidify them in that space. Do they sway when they talk? Do they jitter when they’re nervous or anxious? A conflict is brewing, are they looking for an escape? Do their eyes keep darting to other distractions, or to look for an opening?

THE FIRST MOVE. Who makes it and why? Example taken from a threeway thread involving Matsumoto Rangiku, Nnoitra Gigla, and Ichimaru Gin. Featuring @oboete-iru & @despairforme respectfully. Gin’s POV:

“ ❝ I saaaid... that’s e-nou-gh. Besides, why would ya go ‘n break her wieldin’ arm if she ain’t a thre---- ❞ in a flashing beam, a bared blade, his left foot swept back to brace as black-lined white billowed to reveal Shinso’s lunging bite directly past Rangiku’s hip------to drive a deep unrelenting strike into his upper ribcage; close to the armpit of the limb that held her still in favor of convincing the uncoiling reflex of his fingers. Gin aimed with precision, and with deliberate proximity to the very target he wished to not be thrown into the line of fire----quite impossible for the Espada to potentially thrust her into the fray considering Gin’s angled approach... lulled by his interrupted speech. The traitor sought to be swift; the blow would surely send the Espada backward in its connection------and hopefully result in her release. ”

Throwing the first punch is a decisive moment for many reasons, but it also should still speak to your character: DON’T EVER FORCE A FIGHT THREAD FOR THE SAKE OF ONE, if your character would rather talk their way out of a situation, exhaust that route first before going feral at your thread partner.

With that aside, let’s dissect this moment.

We get some dialogue to start the moment off, because Gin is a character who will casually chat, but he’s also cunning -- he interrupts himself to create a more abrupt attack. The motion is described as swift, so NOT MUCH IS SAID ABOUT EXACT MOVEMENTS, but we get what we need: his blade is drawn (”a bared blade”) it’s moving fast (“a flashing beam”) Gin has added strength to this strike by falling into a wider stance (“left foot swept back to brace”) and we also get where he’s aiming “directly past Rangiku’s hip to drive a deep and unrelenting strike into [Nnoitra’s] upper ribcage, close to the armpit” We also get motivation: Gin wants Nnoitra to let go of Rangiku, striking to “convince the uncoiling reflex of [Nnoitra’s] fingers” -- so we get this all relatively quick. In fact, it’s all almost condensed into one big sentence.

I don’t really worry about proper sentence structures and lengths because in fights, things should not be adhering to neat sentence pacing, they should be paced the way the fight is unfolding. Gin moves fast, and a lot of things happen at once, so that’s my style choice when writing a lot in one sentence. You can do things differently, this is just my preference!

Notice that none of the language implies that Gin’s target is being struck. The words and phrases used are open for Nnoitra to respond to, to react to, rather than to submit to. I describe things as “quite impossible” for Nnoitra to, say, throw Rangiku in front of Shinso in time -- because I want to stress the speed of Gin’s attack, and guide Nnoitra’s writer away from doing something I feel wouldn’t be realistic without the outright act of godmodding. I say this, however, by still giving Nnoitra the OPTION to do exactly what I have just stressed as DIFFICULT TO DO. Maybe he can still try to throw Rangiku into the way! It’ll be a tight window, but hey, surprise me! Writing this moment also shows that my character is actively deciphering yours, deciding what they could do and preparing for that: Gin knows Nnoitra’s dirty, and thus he’s taken a measure to avoid Rangiku paying the price by striking quickly and at an angle that would make it hard for Nnoitra to bring her harm.

At the end of this Moment(™) I top off the attack by mentioning that IF IT HITS, it’ll do X. Not only that, but IF MY ATTACK HITS, IT’LL DO X TO YOUR CHARACTER, AND HOPEFULLY CAUSE X. This sets up a potential chain of events for your writing partner to consider. If they decide that Nnoitra is going to take this hit, they can also consider: will Nnoitra be sent back through a wall, or will he drive his weapon into the ground to slow his skidding enough to avoid that? Will this be enough to make him let go of Rangiku? I have now given Nnoitra’s mun a few things to think about, or “goals” to either reach or adjust the outcome in their following reply. Nnoitra now has to a.) react to an incoming strike b.) be moved by it, either via being struck or by dodging, and c.) deal with holding onto or letting go of Rangiku, with the option of d.) a counterattack at Gin, or at Rangiku, in response to Gin likely pissing him off.

Describing motion that impacts a character other than yours: KEEP YOUR LANGUAGE OPEN, you can legit drop a “if this hits” to keep yourself from unintentionally godmodding contact onto your opponent. If you’re ever unsure, write like your character is thinking: they’re not thinking that their sword has already landed, they’re thinking about what’ll happen IF it does, or WHEN, but in an open-ended sense. The character themselves should never just manifest a blow landing in their heads as they’re swinging it, if that makes sense.

Open-ended language go-to’s for me: “aimed with the desire to cause (insert what’ll happen if your blow were to land, like ‘causing an immense force to blast all debris, and even dare to throw [opponent] backwards’)” or “their weapon sought to (insert what their attack trying to do, like cut off an arm, slash across a chest, or chop at the other’s weapon) with a wide strike” or “they parried, then moved to attempt a disarming scrape of their blade against the other’s, the swinging momentum a convincing pull to urge the swift release of the blade” etc. etc. I’m staying very vague, but the concept’s there!

THESAURUS TIME! Does your character move fast? Swift, fast, quick… those can get a little boring if your character is ALWAYS moving in that nature. So try to sometimes spice things up by playing with words that can replace your common descriptors.

https://www.thesaurus.com/ is your fellow student who’s working on a group project with you -- you shouldn’t lean so heavily on it because they’re not your friend, but it’s there to help you get the job done and together you can spruce up a neat end result.

MAKE SURE THEY STILL MEAN THE SAME THING, and don’t go too crazy as to lose your reader or distinctly destroy your pacing, your style, and your voice. Sometimes simplified is better, like describing the WOOSH of a fast moment as opposed to saying “this moved fast” -- “a WOOSH of the blade” rather than “he swung his blade quickly” can sometimes make a moment more exciting and easier to read without things droning on.

Hey, speaking of droning on, (this post lmao!!! Amirite lads???) does your character’s weapon have multiple ways of being referred to? Since a fight stars your character and their trusty weapon, having a few different ways to title it in your reply can be a lifesaver from sounding too repetitive. Shinso is Gin’s Zanpakuto, a Shinigami’s katana, and it’s in a wakizashi form. This can be called a short-sword, a wakizashi, a soul-slayer, a blade, a sword, a Zanpakuto, a ‘fang’ (swords or blades in general can be called fangs, especially if your character has animal symbolism tied to them), a beam (when it’s being shot) … and a few other things, too, to avoid me having to constantly write “Shinso” or “wakizashi” when moving it during a fight thread. I try not to alternate TOO much, because then it becomes obvious, kind of like when people start deliberately avoiding ‘said’ and it’s a dialogue-heavy scene… don’t go out of your way, this is just to help you avoid having 34 mentions of ‘sword’ in your 5 paragraph reply.

So you threw the first punch, but what happens next? Well, you can actually end your reply once your blow’s been polished up and finished. But a little bit of juicy introspection can’t hurt, too! Your character’s just started a fight, what are they thinking? What’s the damage? Did your character just do something destructive or brash? Tell us how, and what’s to be made of the attack your character just threw. Here’s Gin’s following moment after striking at Nnoitra:

“ … it’d feel nice ( akin to a surging punch ) to slam his blade into the pitiful pawn’s side. One hundred sword lengths called for, due to their confinement, a collision course that involved Nnoitra taking a shortcut through a neighboring wall. No matter the Espada’s tough exterior, solid defenses, Shinso would not stop shy. ”

There’s some more info pertaining to Gin’s attack in here, drizzled with a brief introspection that Gin will feel immensely satisfied if he gets to land a decent hit on Nnoitra (coupled with a “pitiful pawn” quip that notifies readers that Gin really DOES NOT LIKE this character, nor does he think very highly of his status, which may or may not be a chance for the character of Nnoitra to surprise or impress Gin via a hearty fight)

The details of exactly how far Gin’s blow would carry Nnoitra are important due to the nature of Gin’s special ability / sword. Shinso will “not stop shy” implying that Nnoitra’s going to either have to dodge or get slammed, because the blade that’s hitting him won’t stop its travel until it’s 100 katana-length’s long. Now, back up to the first section of this post: describing your character’s surroundings. Gin and Nnoitra are in a hallway, and Gin struck in a way that means the hallway is not going to suffice in terms of room. SO DESCRIBING POTENTIAL DAMAGES IS IMPORTANT: it paints the scene better. If Nnoitra is going to take this hit, this also means that a wall is likely going to crumble and collapse due to how tough and tanky Nnoitra is. Cue a classic anime moment of dust billowing up, rocks tumbling, and rubble shifting.

In all of this, don’t forget to respect your opponent -- Gin’s strike may land, but right from the get go there’s never an assumption that Shinso will be able to pierce Nnoitra’s tough skin. Knowing about your enemy’s special traits and abilities can help you make these moments more respectable: I know that Gin’s Shikai will not be enough to cut past Nnoitra’s hierro, his ‘steel skin’ defense. The most that’s described is the action of Shinso batting Nnoitra aside and into a wall, despite it being a sharp blade, it’s not described as an impaling moment.

That being said, don’t pull your punches if your character is a powerhouse! Respect others, don’t godmod, but also look out for defending your character’s own strengths! This can involve you studying up on how strong your character is in their universe, and finding some relations and comparisons to draw from in order to properly ‘rate’ them against your opponent. This can also lead you to a very IMPORTANT step, though not always required if both writers feel comfortable enough to proceed unplanned: TALK TO THE WRITER.

Discuss what you think your character is capable of vs. their character in a respectful way, open to hearing “actually, I don’t think that would happen” or “maybe we can go this route instead, since my character can x y and z?” Learning how to protect your character’s power while also being mindful and open to your writing partner’s character can lead to a really fun exchange and a memorable fight. You can literally drop a tentative “hey, I’m replying to our thread and Gin wants to punch Nnoitra in the face” and be responded to with a “go for it, it’ll probably break Gin’s hand” or “oh snap! that’s his one weakness!!!” LOL. I mean, unrealistic, but seriously talk to your writing partner about things if this is something you’re both passionate and excited about!

PLEASE, PLEASE REMEMBER THAT FIGHTS SHOULDN’T HAPPEN IN VOIDS, if you feel like your characters should be interrupted, or end in a draw, or lose interest / dissolve back into talking rather than fighting, then do this! Will your character chose to run away if the fight starts going south for them? Will your character try to offer a merciful end, will they be open to sparing the wounded enemy character if they feel they’ve successfully won? Does your character end up saving the other character by getting them medical help? This can go so many different ways than just blankly fighting and someone winning whilst the other dies.

CONSEQUENCES! What will the consequences of this fight be? For Gin, he has struck out at a supposed ally in defense of a Shinigami intruder that by all means should be considered the enemy. He can get into some trouble for this, or at the very least gain some speculation on where his loyalties lie if word gets out about what he’s done. Other consequences include, too, the very real threat that if Gin fails, Rangiku’s going to be killed. Find how this fight between characters can ADD MORE WEIGHT. Gin really wants this battle to end quickly and quietly. It’s going to drive him to act in a no-nonsense manner, too, because he doesn’t have time to play around. THIS IS VASTLY DIFFERENT, DUE TO THE CURRENT CONSEQUENCES, IN COMPARISON TO HIM PLAYING AROUND WITH ANOTHER MUN’S CHARACTER IN A LESS STRESSFUL SETTING.

Long term consequences, and calling back to a past fight thread in a later thread can make things extra spicy. For example, now Rangiku knows that Gin’ll fight one of his own to defend her; he can no longer pretend to be some emotionless husk standing on the opposing side in the war, he can be confronted about this moment -- by Nnoitra, too, or by other characters who are told about what happened. Gossip’s a bitch, right lads?

Now let your character recover: have them take that nap, or indulge yourself in some juicy hurt/comfort threads with an ally of yours, or some angst about a lost fight hitting your character’s confidence and mentality hard; do they train, do they rest, do they seek out someplace safe to heal, do they hunt down their rival / opponent for a second try? Are they now afraid of certain things, do they have trauma? Near-death experience, or a major injury that now hinders them?

This is a great resource to writing injuries (tw for blood and other graphic depictions of violence, injuries, detailed there) If you’re not squeamish, you can really dive into the medical side of things and study up what kind of damages your character may be faced with. It’s alright to not be totally realistic, though, considering much of what’s being written is based entirely on fake super-powered scenarios.

Sometimes, when struggling on how to describe movement, I’ll go onto Youtube and look up “Battle choreography” or “top ten realistic swordfights” or other relatable content to assist me creatively. Watching things in slow motion or multiple times to nail the positioning can help immensely. By watching similar-themed fights, I can see how those people are moving and try my best to describe that motion in written form. I try to avoid TV/Movie scenes that have been obviously hounded on for their anti-realism, especially sword fights, the common victim to Hollywood’s ridiculousness. But hey, if your character is an absolute mad lad and can pull a John Wick moment, then pull up that badass clip and go for it!

THERE’S SO MUCH TO EXPLORE, SO HAVE FUN WITH IT!

#[ roleplay resource ]#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #long post #PHEW.#this was extra hard and annoying considering a few of my laptop keys have been popping off.#also: i'm not trying to toot my own horn by using my own writing as examples to dissect: i'm well aware that my writing isn't perfect.#i just didn't want anyone to feel weirded out if i put their writing under a spotlight.

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bakugouscentedcaramel · 5 years

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🍋Daddy~🍋

Since Tumblr was a big ol piece of doohonkie last night and said "Nah fam, you ain't posting that smut, not on my watch" I'm now stuck writing smut in the bathroom to avoid questions fjebsjwj

🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~

🍋Warnings🍋: Lemon lemon lemon, just call me life because of all of these fucking lemons!

🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~ 🍋~

Sinsou

Panting and skin slapping was the only thing that filled the room. You don't even really know what got him so riled up but you really didn't care. He had you bent over the bed ass up as he pounded mercilessly into you. His grunts and groans only added more fuel to your own passionate flames.

He grabbed a handful of your ass and repositioned himself to line up with your opening and hit that euphoric spot inside of you causing your back to arch and your legs to tense. Feeling you tighten around him was obvious enough that you were reaching your breaking point so he leaned down and nipped your neck teasingly

"You're taking me so well, kitten. God, you're too sexy for your own good, you know that?" His thrusts became more deep as if his cock was begging you to squeeze it for all of it's worth.

"Shinsou~" you moan out as he takes you over the edge "harder Daddy"

His thrusts faltered as he processed what you said. He slid out of you and flipped you on your back with one of your legs over his shoulder with your other dangling off the edge. He laid on top of you as his hand snaked it's way to your needy clit, giving it delicious rapid circles. His hot breath met your neck causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

"God damnit Y/N," he thrusted suddenly inside of you and used his other hand to make your back arch for him.

"Say that again, kitten"

Bakugou

Bang bang bang goes the headboard.

Your back was against the noisy headboard, your hands trying in vain to silence the piece of wood while your explosive boyfriend was railing into you.

Your moans only egged him to thrust into your hole harder. Sweat dripping from his chiseled chest and onto your overheating body, you arched your back and started seeing stars.

"You're really putting on a show for me baby," he groaned as he bent down to bite on your next causing you to clamp tighter onto his cock. His hand found it's way to your eager clit rubbing it roughly to the timing of his thrusts.

You wrapped your arms around his neck attempting to brace yourself for your incoming orgasm, both of you groaning and moaning with the intense feeling of each other's bodies.

The tension in your stomach finally snapped which caused your legs to wrap around his waist as you tightened around his member.

"aHH DADDY FUCK YESSS"

"FUCK Y/N" He thrusted hard causing the tip of his cock to slam against your cervix. The pressure from his cum filling you up almost sent you into another orgasm.

His cock twitched excitedly inside you seemingly harder than before.

Looks like you were in for a long night.

Dabi

You don't even know what caused him to throw you onto the bed in the first place. All you knew was how tired your legs and back were from tensing during your three orgasms.

Your boyfriend's fire blue eyes studied your expression as he ate out your very sensitive pussy. His tongue worked your clit while his fingers fired inside your sopping wet core, feeling every inch.

You tried squirming to escape the overstimulation but he held your hips with his unoccupied arm, the pressure from his forearm pressing down against your bladder making you tighter.

Your ragged breaths and mewls only made him smirk and he chuckled softly knowing the fact that he could make you look like this.

His vibrations sent you over the edge again and you arched your back and squeezed his head with your thighs.

"Daddy oh fUCK!"

Emptiness returned to you as his body left yours. You opened your eyes to the sound of his belt buckle rattling.

"Baby, I'm about to fuck you until thats the only word you know."

What even is sleep?

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #shinsou x reader #dabi x reader #bakugou x reader #lemon #shinsou lemon #dabi lemon #bakugou lemon

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lettingmydreamsspeak · 4 years

Text

The Heart Knows Best: Part IV

Summary: Little do Chris and Y/n know that those closest to them are working their magic to try and bring them together.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: approx. 2700

Author’s Note: If this is your first time reading this series, catch up with Part I, Part II and Part III here. It is my hope to figure out a taglist (yes, I’m still pretty new to this!) for those that mentioned that they are interested if I start one. If you too are interested, please send a message!

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

Haley was shocked that she received a response from Scott. She left the message unread, seeing that he really only needed to send five words in response. She knew that this is an urgent matter to discuss. A part of her wondered if you would be upset that she could potentially be chatting with Scott about you and Chris. Haley really tried to keep to herself when it came to your love life, but this time she felt that she might need to intervene. She hated seeing you, her best friend, in this state.

She looked at her phone one more time before buzzing up to your place. Taking a deep breath, Haley started to type a response. Not wanting to get into too much detail in this message, she convinced herself to keep it short and sweet.

Hey Scott, I sure wasn’t expecting to hear back from you. Want to chat tomorrow tonight?

Message sent.

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

The sun was barely on the horizon line as Chris laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was unable to sleep any longer. He turned his head to find a sleeping Dodger, snuggled next to him. These were his favourite moments first thing in the morning. Chris turned to grab his phone to take yet another photo of his best friend. The movement caused Dodger to wake, showing Chris great dislike for the disruption.

“I’m sorry bud! Just know that Dad does this because he loves you very much. You will be thankful for all the photos when you are older.”

Chris laughed at his own joke as he snapped a few more photos of the disgruntled dog lying by his side.

“I know you are grumpy now Dodge, but I have a feeling today is going to be okay.”

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

With a coffee in hand, you strolled into the office, feeling a little groggy from the late night wine drinking with Haley. Even though your body felt exhausted, today seemed like a better day. The weight on your shoulders was lifted after spending a few hours with your best friend, talking things out.

As you walked through the office, you noticed the looks you were getting from coworkers. They were greeting you with a smile, some even with a subtle nod. You felt confused by the attention you were receiving this morning. As you arrived to your desk there was a note with your name on it and bottle of sparkling white wine. Not sure who this was from, you eagerly opened the envelope.

Your talents are boundless. Who knew a viral video would finally get you the recognition you have deserved for so long. Congrats, Evelyn.

“Well, all those friendly looks and acknowledgments make sense now. Thanks a lot Chris…”

“It’s more than a thank you!” You nearly went into flight mode as your boss interjected on the conversation your were having with yourself. “Our sales numbers for that book alone sky rocketed overnight. Evelyn has asked that I have a thank you note sent to Scott and Chris for filming and posting the video. Y/n, you wait! Because of your part in it, I predict that in the next week, you are going to be the most in demand illustrator for this company. I hope you are ready for it.”

“Oh hey, Louise! Thanks. I’m not really too sure how to handle this though.”

“You don’t have to handle anything, just be prepared to be more creative than you have ever been.”

“Huh…..I guess I never imagined it would all happen this way.”

In the back of your mind you could hear his voice. Was the universe trying to tell you something? It seemed as if it was trying to bring the two of you back together.

“Again Y/n, give yourself some credit. You deserve this. Celebrate this success and maybe take a bit of time to bask in the glory of it!”

“I’ll try my best, Louise. Thanks again.”

As Louise walked away, you shook your head as you grabbed the phone to send a message and a photo to Haley, wanting to share the surprise. Instead, you had a sudden urge to check out Instagram to see if Chris posted something. You weren’t one to follow celebrities, so you would have to go out of your way to see what Chris was up to. You were curious though. Your heart started to beat a little faster as your slowly typed out his name in the search bar. There might have been butterflies in the pit of your stomach too. As his name appeared in the results, you questioned why you were even doing this, but you felt that you needed to. You clicked his name and quickly closed your eyes, afraid of what might be on the other end. Taking a deep breath and slowly opening your right eye, to see a blurry image of what seemed to be a human and an animal. You closed your eye again, just to open them both up at the same time. The image was clear now. There was Chris, lying in bed with Dodger, both with sullen looks on their faces. The caption under the photo read “You and me both, Dodge.” Staring at this image for what felt like an hour, but was really only seconds, you drifted off into a daydream of what it would be like to wake up beside these two.

“What has gotten into you Y/n?” You shook your head again, to get our of the daydream state. Confused by your own reaction to this photo, you texted Haley with a simple question to hopefully place blame for your odd behaviour on something else.

Hales, what was in that wine last night?

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

“No I did not add anything to your wine last night! You think I would do something like that to you, without first asking for your permission and secondly, not join in on the adventure?”

“Leave it up to you Hales to turn things around and make it funny.”

“So did you add on to the note sent to Chris saying that you love him?”

“Seriously Hales?” Y/n knew that Haley was trying hard to keep the conversation light hearted.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have feelings for him. The universe really seems to be cheering you on with this. Why don’t you just go along with it?”

“But…”

“There is no but. Just go along with it, okay?”

“Yah, okay.”

“Can you sound a little more enthusiastic?” Just as Haley asked you this, her phone started to vibrate with the incoming call. “Y/n, I gotta go, be more enthusiastic!….BYE!”

“Hales?..........Haley?”

You stood there, puzzled by Haley’s abrupt ending to the call. Staring at your phone screen, not quite sure what to make of what happened, you shrugged it off and texted her.

You didn’t seem in distress when you cut off our call, so I hope you are okay. Just let me know you are alive.

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

“Hello, Haley speaking!”

“Hey! It’s Scott. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Sure didn’t. I was actually just on a call with Y/n, trying to convince her to follow the universe’s guidance that is leading her back to your brother.”

“Excellent! So we are going to get along, aren’t we?”

“I have a feeling we will. Again, thanks for getting back to me. I truly wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I felt a little lost on how to help my best friend.”

“Everything happens for a reason. We are going to make this work. We just need to plan this out carefully. I have an idea, and I want to see if you are up for it.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What if Chris and I wrote a children’s book?”

“And Y/n was the illustrator for it?”

“Exactly! So do you know how we can go about this?”

“I know exactly how to…you got a pen and paper handy to write some notes?

“I sure do.”

”Step one….”

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

Haley and Scott agreed that the plan needed to be set in motion pretty quick. After sleeping on the ideas that were created during their two hour long conversation, Scott was ready to tackle the first hurdle: convince Chris to write a book. Now was the moment as he stood outside Chris’ office door. He texted Haley first.

Wish me luck.

He wasn’t waiting any longer. He quietly knocked on the door and walked in before Chris could even respond.

“So, I’ve been thinking about some things and wondered how you would feel about maybe working on a fun project, you know…the two of us”

Looking up from his computer, settling his chin upon his hands clutched together, Chris is bracing for some elaborate idea. He doesn’t have a response, except to stare at Scott as he sat down.

“Okay, you haven’t disapproved yet, so I will continue telling you about it. After receiving that note from Evelyn, thanking us for reading the children’s book, I thought to myself that maybe we can write our own children’s book. Between the two of us, we could probably come up with some kind of story. Maybe we include a dog and two little boys going on a fun adventure. I don’t know. It’s just an idea that I can’t get out of my brain. Then we could donate the proceeds of the sales to charity.”

You could tell that Chris was pondering the idea as Scott sat across the desk from him, patiently waiting for some kind of response. Chris didn’t hate the idea. He also didn’t fully support it yet. His mind was filling with questions about how they would go about creating this so called book.

“So, I don’t hate the idea. I actually really like it. And you know we would have to dedicate the book to the kids. But I have so many questions. How do we even begin writing this? What is our timeline for completion? Who is even going to accept an idea like this?”

Scott stared back at him, happy that Chris somewhat approved of this idea. He wanted so bad to tell him that Y/n could be the illustrator, but he also wanted to tread lightly through this territory, as he sensed Chris might actually be up for creating something together.

“Whoa….slow down bro. I don’t even have the answers yet, but if this is something you might have the slightest interest in being a part of, how about I try and get a hold of Evelyn? I know you are busy today, so I will see if I can chat with her. I have a feeling their publishing firm would fully support us with this idea. It doesn’t hurt to ask. Can I at least do that?”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t think you will regret this!” Scott hurried from the room to grab the phone of his pocket. Feeling like he couldn’t text quick enough, he finally got the words onto the screen.

Haley, he liked the idea.

Sent.

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

A couple of days had passed, and it felt like things were getting back to normal for you, especially at work. You still had your deadlines to meet, and clients to make happy. In general, you felt more inspired than usual. The work you were creating felt like some of the best you had done in a long time. In the midst of sending off proofs to your client, an email come through from Evelyn. For the most part you are an optimistic person, but then there were moments like this one. Anxiety was making an appearance. Without even reading the email yet, you expected the worst. Evelyn never emailed you, so what could it be. Maybe you were were looped into a conversation that you weren’t supposed to be included in. Once your client’s email was sent off, with hesitation you opened Evelyn’s message. It was titled: Important Meeting – Please Respond Immediately.

“I’m getting fired…I know it.”

You opened the email without much confidence in what you were about to read.

Y/n and Louise,

Sorry I can’t be there to give you this news and discuss it with you in person, but I will address everything you need to know in this email. Please read carefully.

Thanks to this weeks increased interest in the works we have been publishing, we have been approached to work on a children’s book with a high profile client. Though I cannot disclose who this client is right now, they have requested a meeting with our head publishing team at our NYC headquarters. As I am already in Manhattan for other meeting over the next week, I have scheduled a meeting with them. This meeting will be on Monday morning. The client has also requested that Y/n is involved in this project, as the illustrator.

Y/n, we have booked you on a red eye flight, having you arrive into the city on Sunday morning, giving you a chance to prepare for the meeting. A car will be at the airport to pick you up and take you to the hotel. It will also be there at the hotel to take you to the meeting at HQ. I have also reached out to your clients that have deadlines next week. We have pushed their deadlines to the following week, as we will have you based out of the NYC office for a bit. All the materials that you need to do any illustrating while you are here will be set up in an office for you.

I know this is late notice, but I hope that this opportunity is one what you are willing and able to tackle with our team. All your flight information is attached to this email. Please let me know as soon as possible that you will be in attendance for this meeting on Monday morning.

Thanks, Evelyn

You sat there silent and in shock. Louise was right when she told you that things were going to change. This was an opportunity that you couldn’t pass up. This was a dream that was just days away from coming true. Without hesitation you responded to Evelyn’s email.

Evelyn,

Thank you for your email this morning and organizing this amazing opportunity. I will see you on Monday morning.

Regards, Y/n

You really just wanted to scream in excitement. Instead you stood up from your desk, took a quick look around. The coast was clear to do a little happy dance.

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

Chris was happy that it was the weekend. There were plans in place for the family to spend time together. Though work never really was done for him, he was finally taking time for himself. Being able to spend time with his family for a couple of days is just what he needs. As he finished up reading through yet another script that came through from his agent, he closed his computer and exited his office, with no intention of returning to it until after the weekend.

“Thank god it is the weekend!” Chris was elated at the fact that it was time to relax.

“I couldn’t agree more, but before the weekend starts, can we have a quick chat about the book idea?” Scott had startled Chris as he turned the corner into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and start cooking supper.

“Did you actually get somewhere with it?”

“Sure did! I know I should have checked with you first, but I hope you are free to take a trip into Manhattan on Sunday night, and meet with Evelyn and her team on Monday morning.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Chris was surprised for a moment.

“Wow…I’m impressed Scott. Lucky for you, I am free for the meeting. I guess we are doing this then, huh?”

“Well, we aren’t tied into the project just yet, but they are going to give us some clarity on what it would take to make this book.”

“Alright then, let’s do it. Can I say that I am actually kind of excited about this now?”

“I certainly was hoping that you were going to say it. I have a feeling this is going to be better than we expect.”

Little did Chris know that this meeting might change his life…

...To be continued in Part V

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #agirlcandream #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader

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jmflowers · 4 years

Note

Top 5 headcanons you have for #Vanity

This may very well have been the best ask I got in this game, because I have spent so much time coming up with some very in-depth answers. Thus, I saved it for last. Brace yourself for the incoming long post!

There are a lot of amazing headcanons shared within this fandom, but these are some of my own personal ones that I haven’t discussed at length publicly.

1. They couldn’t pry themselves apart following that kiss in the street on 30th January 2018. My reasoning: The only time we’ve seen Charity’s hair straight (while working) in more than two years, was the 1st and 2nd of February. (On the 31st January, she was calling Vanessa about Tracy drinking too much in the pub, after doing a stride of pride from Tug Ghyll that morning.) My belief is that for a couple days there, they were so enraptured with each other that Charity skipped styling her hair to spend longer (in the shower) with Vanessa.

2. Charity isn’t one for photos, but Vanessa is. My reasoning: There are (sadly) very, very few pictures of Moses and Ryan up in Jacob’s Fold, nor any recent ones of Charity with her other kids, despite the magnitude of photos on display within the cottage. I believe Charity has to be reminded to document moments, whereas Vanessa is constantly snapping away (there are hoards of photos of Johnny, Tracy, and Frank). I also believe Vanessa is the mastermind behind the many, many framed images. (Side note: there are a lot of pictures of Sarah up, which was maybe her way of making Sarah feel just as at home with them all moved in? Cute.) This one has been touched on in a few fics by others, but often as a result of the number of photos Vanessa had up in Tug Ghyll. I mean, she had a framed photo of Johnny on a shelf in the pantry.

3. It was Charity who curled Vanessa’s hair before the inspection at the vets. My reasoning: Vanessa very rarely has her hair styled any other way than down straight or in a ponytail (or professionally styled in some fancy ‘do for more lavish events - ie. Isaac’s christening, Aaron & Robert’s wedding, Zak & Lisa’s wedding, etc.), but on two occasions she’s had her hair done in very distinct curls - the day of the inspection at the vet’s, and then a few weeks later at Chas’ baby shower. I believe that Charity curled Vanessa’s hair before the inspection to calm her down or distract her (and then rushed off to work at the pub), then perhaps offered to do it again when they were getting ready for the baby shower together.

4. Their love languages. I could talk about my theories surrounding their love languages for an eternity because I have given it a lot of thought. I’m going to attempt to summarize my thoughts here, but they filled two pages of my notebook when I wrote them all out. The 5 Love Languages come from a book by Gary Chapman, and you can read more about them or take the quiz to find out your own here. > Vanessa’s love languages: Acts of Service (giving) and Quality Time (receiving). My reasoning: (Giving) Early on in her relationship with Charity, Vanessa was established as very tactile with her affection. At first, I thought this was how she showcased her love for others, but if you look at her interactions with anyone else she cares about, she’s more prone to doing things for them (to the point of her own destruction) than reaching out and touching them as constantly as she does with Charity. You can see it in how she handles the Rhona drugs storyline, how she is when Tracy wakes up on the couch in Tug Ghyll sad or hungover or both, and even how she approaches finding Moira post-drinking spree when Isaac is sick. (Receiving) Vanessa seems to be at her best emotionally when she’s spent ample time propping up the bar or hanging with Rhona, and you’ll notice she flaunts to being around people she cares about (even when she has other obligations). She basks in the affections of others time, but pulls away from it completely when she’s sad, often blaming others for the isolation she feels in those moments. I don’t think she recognizes this trait in herself because of that fact, but I know when she finally decided to let Charity flock to her side following her dad’s death, she perked back up. > Charity’s love languages: Touch (receiving), Gift Giving (giving), and Words of Affirmation (giving). My reasoning: (Receiving) I think Vanessa recognized quite quickly in their relationship that Charity responds better to touch than words and chose to be so tactile with her as an act of service. You can see it clearly in the way Charity visibly relaxes or softens when Vanessa’s making physical contact with her, but also in how she tenses for a moment when Noah goes to hug her out of the blue. If you watch for it, you’ll notice she leans into the people she cares about when talking to them, especially in the pub. (Giving, early on) At the start of their relationship, Charity was content to flood her children with presents at every opportunity, and even attempted to do the same for Vanessa on the odd occasion. She seemed to believe still that love was something to be bought, or came as a result of pleasing others, which she appears to have grown out of (mostly) as her relationship with Vanessa got more serious. (Giving, now) Charity is often the first you’ll hear declaring her love or gratitude for the people around her. She did it with Debbie as she was leaving for Scotland, with Marlon when he visited Noah in hospital, with Noah when he was home safe following the drugs incident, with Chas following everything regarding baby Grace, and at every opportunity with Vanessa. She’s not good at a lot of the other stuff, but I think she’s learning the power her words have.

5. Everything thegirl20 has written (that matches up with the show timeline) is canon. Is it even a question, though, really? We are so incredibly lucky as fandom whole to have a creator here who knows the characters so well and has been a viewer of the show for such a long time. When she tells me the younger boys are obsessed with Paw Patrol, or that Moses grows up to be a vet like Vanessa, I believe her - end of.

#top 5 game #ask game #vanity ask #janelle’s asks #vanity headcanons #charity x vanessa #long post #thegirl20 #humanjukeboxash #i spent so much time on this tbh

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jaehyeonsgf · 5 years

Note

Hey babe, I love your scenarios they’re amazing, I come to your blog to see if you’ve posted. Can I request a scenario with Jaehyun 17, 12 and 24.

12 : “whatever you have to say about me, say it to my face”

17 : “its like you’ve made it your sole mission to annoy me”

24 : “don’t underestimate me”

a/n : highkey wanted to write another fratboy!jaehyun, but I opted for idol!jaehyun and photographer!reader. hope you enjoy and thanks for your support :> it means a lot to me

warning : smut

[ view prompt list here ]

Landing a placement in SM Entertainment as a photographer meant that you’d have a stable income for the next few months, but it also meant that you find yourself in the company of a certain arrogant ass more often than you’d like.

Jaehyun is the hottest model currently and is making leaps and bounds in the k-modelling world, famously walking in the New York Fashion Week show, and he knows it. He knows that he is a big deal and he’s aware of how a single smile leaves a flutter of girls at his feet – that explains his bigger-than-his-wardrobe ego.

You wonder what would the public think of him if they saw what actually goes on behind the scene. They say that you should never meet your celebrities. That if you do, you’ll realise that they are nothing more than rich snobby kids, put together by absurdly expensive clothes, and that their personalities are nothing more than printed words, editing and a façade. You think that that is an accurate depiction of the contrast between the man you see in giant posters or interviews on The Late Late Show and the man that stands in front of your camera.

You come to the conclusion that before any fragments of Jaehyun’s true self reaches the masses, his management will be willing to drop large sums of money just to keep it all under wraps.

The fact doesn’t disappoint you that much, you’ve already gotten used to the reality. It simply means that you’ll have to suffer under his reign silently for the foreseeable future, or at least the end of your contract with his management.

It doesn’t stop you from bickering with him when he acts up though.

“B-but I thought you said these were okay to use!”

“That was a week ago but right now, I don’t think that they don’t look good enough,” Jaehyun calmly answers, his eyes never leaving his phone screen. He continues to swipe through his Instagram feed and it does more to further annoy you.

You roll your eyes. You had pulled two all-nighters, editing photos from a Harper’s Bazaar Korea photoshoot, only to have it been rejected by him.

“Don’t you know how long I’ve worked-“

“You say that as if my job is that easy,” he quickly shuts you up.

You acknowledge that it’s not easy to stand in front of a camera and look as good as he does. There’s a reason that you chose a life behind the camera instead of in front of it. It doesn’t stop you from showing every trace of annoyance you have on your face.

His eyes glance up at you in the mirror and at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and tight lips, the corner of his lips raises into a smug look. He takes your silence as answer.

“Great. So I don’t see any problems with you choosing another set of photos and have them done by… Wednesday,” he arches a sculpted eyebrow up.

You open your mouth to argue that two days aren’t enough. His eyebrow arches further up.

You sigh and brace yourself for another sleepless night.

The next time you see Jaehyun, it’s at another photoshoot and you have half a mind to commit a felony right there and then. It doesn’t help that his stylists had all rushed down to MNET to help out a group of newly debuted group, leaving you all alone with him in a luxurious hotel room.

You wonder where did the professional model go because for whatever reason, Jaehyun is simply not delivering enough. Usually a few prompts are enough to get the shots of Jaehyun you needed – thanks to how his expression, gaze and posture all coming together in the perfect union. It’s one of the few perks of working with Jaehyun, shoots are usually shorter and easier to coordinate.

But not today.

Today, he’s no where near half his usual capability. Today, his concentration is fixated on something else, rather than his job. Today, you predict, will be the day he finally pushes you off the edge.

“Soften your gaze,” you demanded through clenched teeth for the third time in a row.

The gaze he gives you is instead one of frustration.

“Y-you know what, let’s just take a break,” he breathes out, lifting a hand to run it through his hair, only to stop midway when he realises that his stylists aren’t around to help him position each strand in its perfect position. His hand forms a tight fist as he lowers it.

You frown. The both of you only have the room for the next two hours and the fact that you haven’t exactly taken pictures – well, at least not pictures that can be published – bothers you.

“We can’t stop just ‘cause you aren’t feeling it, Mr. Hotshot,” you say.

“It’s not like we’re getting any work done anyways,” he throws you a pointed look, as if to toss the blame on you. And, as if his point isn’t clear enough, he chooses to add in, “Don’t underestimate me. The only reason I’ve gotten here today is because I’ve never taken a single day off.”

Your eyes widen in the rage. Who does Jung Jaehyun think he is? Who does he think he is to cast the blame on to you, when it’s clearly his fault? It annoys you to no end that he actually thinks that you’re the one screwing it up.

Yet you choose not to retaliate. At least you try not to. You breathe and set your camera down on the nightstand, trying desperately to stay calm. Your best friend had shared with you a breathing technique that was supposed to work wonders to calm yourself down and you try it. You recall the instructions and breathe in, holding it for a moment, then letting it go.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from mumbling under your breath, “It’s as if you’ve made it your sole mission to annoy me. It’s not even my fault.”

You hadn’t mean for Jaehyun to hear it, but he does. And it flips a switch within him and in one deft movement, he has you back against the soft white bed and pinned under him.

“Whatever you have to say about me, say it to my face,” he almost growls out.

Getting what he wants isn’t a matter of privilege, rather it was a given. More of a right than a blessing. His status meant that everywhere he went, there’ll be crowds of people following him around, taking pictures of him as he goes through his day. His popularity doesn’t end with the masses. Modelling agencies from all over the world are pining for him to sign contracts with them. So, it comes as no surprise when people start doing things just to please him, just to gain his favour.

Still, he can’t deny the surge of satisfaction he gets when he manages to force his way through life. And he feels it, looking down on your blushing face and eyes fixated at the window beside the bed, rather than him.

It is then that you make the mistake of tearing your eyes away from the window. Because when your eyes meet his, something dangerous transpires.

You gulp visibly and remind yourself. He is… a client.

It doesn’t stop you from kissing him back when he places his lips against yours. You sigh against his lips and relaxes your body. The kiss starts out slow but then it isn’t. It becomes clashing teeth and rough tongues that speaks of desperation.

He is a client but God, if you aren’t excited for what’s in store. It’s been awhile since you’ve last were intimate with anyone. That isn’t to say that you didn’t have your chances, the chances were there but you just refused them. Your mind was simply too preoccupied with Jung Jaehyun and his lists of unreasonable demands to do anything else – sex included.

You bend one knee up, slotting it between his legs, feeling the growing erection. You’re rewarded with a lustful moan. It sends shivers down your spine but you refuse to acknowledge just how angelic it sounds next to your ears. Instead, you lift one arm up, snaking it behind Jaehyun’s neck and up into his hair. They aren’t smooth or soft because of the amount of hair product in them, but it doesn’t stop you from tugging on it. Your other hand quickly undoes his button up shirt.

His hands don’t leave you alone either. He steadies himself using one hand to grip on the headboard, as the other slips under your shirt. His warm touch is enough for you to elicit a hiss into the kiss. His hand is everywhere, from your waist, to your hips and rests against your ribcage, caressing your skin.

“Your clothes,” he says when he pulls away from you.

The both of you are breathless and you just know that your lips are swollen red. You push him upwards, so that he is sitting on his knees and you’re sitting upright. It takes only a brief moment before you’ve gotten rid of your top and your pants, leaving you in a mismatched black laced bra and a white silk panty. He takes the opportunity to work on his own pants, quickly pulling it off so that he’s in his boxer briefs.

Within moments, both your bodies are again pressed up against each other. His lips wander across your jawline and works down your neck.

“Wait- Oh god…” You exhale shakily and turns your head one way to give him access to your neck. “Don’t-I’m!” you try to warn him about how sensitive you are along your neck but Jaehyun gets there first with his soft lips.

Your soft mewls encourage his smug smirk and he decides to treat you by generously littering patches of red and purple down your neck and on to your chest. You know that they’ll bruise tomorrow but you don’t care enough to stop him.

Then his body leaves yours again and, this time, you let a whine out.

“Hold on, baby doll,” he comforts, using the side of his index finger to lift your chin up so that you’re looking at him.

He uses his index finger to split apart your lips and in an act of seduction, you lick his finger. The act catches him off-guards but he lets you have his hand. You take his index and middle fingers into your mouth, slightly hollowing your cheeks as you suck on them, playing with them using your tongue.

There’s something at the sight of you with saliva dripping down your chin and mouth full of his fingers that turns Jaehyun on even more. So, he removes his fingers and, instead, pulls down his boxer briefs, letting his fully erect length spring free. You let out a shaky breathe when you see his size. He aligns it to your swollen lips.

“Suck on this instead.”

You get on your knees and obediently swallows him into your mouth. You feel his length hit the back of your throat and a single tear rolls out your eye. You steady yourself, one hand on his hips before bobbing up and down, letting him complete destroy the back of your throat. He doesn’t try to control his moans and it’s soon that your name is bouncing off the walls, punctuated with the occasional hisses.

It made you feel good that the Jung Jaehyun is at your mercy. This lasts for a mere moment because without warning, his hand is gripping a fistful of your hair, shoving his dick down your throat making you gag from the unexpected move. Your voice is muffled by his cock and he doesn’t notice how badly he is wrecking your throat.

Your salvation comes the moment he pulls out and orders you to get on your hands and feet. You obey, sticking your ass high up in the air. This is the moment that you’ve been waiting for.

“You’re so wet for me baby doll,” he breathes against your warm core as he pulls your panty off of you.

A whine leaves your lips because you know the exact smug expression he has on. “H-hurry up.”

“Impatient,” he comments but is quick to reach over to, what you think is, his wallet.

But your hand flies out, stopping him. You’re already dripping in desperation and the longer you waited, the more it felt like torture. “Don’t… I’m on the pill.”

The way lust rolls off your tongue is enough to stop Jaehyun and his grin widens upon hearing the fact. It takes him less than a second before he slides himself in you and it makes a sinful sound.

It’s been a while and you’ve totally forgotten how amazing it is to feel completely filled. You sigh in pleasure. Jaehyun makes an equally loud moan, fingers lightly digging into your hips. The pleasure of your walls clenching so goddamn tightly around him is enough to overwhelm him and he almost comes, but controls himself. He steadies himself, letting you adjust to his length. It’s only when you desperately started grinding down on him that he starts thrusting into you.

He reaches forward and pulls your head back by your hair and his other hand reaches forward and grips tightly around your throat. He wastes no time and starts moving his hips, with each thrust comes quicker than the next.

In a blur of strained moans, desperate whimpers and gasps, Jaehyun keeps up with the brutal pace and nothing stops him. Not even as you came undone under him, shaking and shivering, yelling at him to stop, only for the moans and whimpers to completely fill your throat. Quickly after your first orgasm, the overstimulation builds up your second orgasm and this time, the knot is wound tighter. It only when you feel him coming into you that it snaps, bringing you into your second orgasm. Even then he doesn’t stop, until his creamy white cum seeps out of your drenched pussy.

He pulls himself out of you, taking a moment to take it just how absolutely ravaged you look. Hair in a mess, eyes glossy with tears, cheeks and chest flushed, your lips are slightly parted and there’s saliva leaking out of it, and the way his cum overflows out of you. It almost enough to get him in the mood for round two.

But it’s been a while for him too and he’s tired. So, instead he collapses beside you. You’re panting and take a moment to catch your breath.

But the camera by the nightstand is a reminder to yourself, the purpose of your visit to the hotel. And you pick it up, carelessly snapping away photos of Jaehyun, with his hair in a mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He lets you.

And when those photos finally come out, a month later, it surprises you that the public enjoyed the look almost as much as you do. So much so that his stylists don’t question why his hairstyle is different and why his lipstick has turned much redder.

Jaehyun invites you over to his house that night to celebrate its success – this time you make sure that your lingerie matches.

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #jung jaehyun #nct smut #jaehyun smut #mine #requested

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btswrckd · 5 years

Text

Hunting a Hybrid I

Black Panther!Hybrid Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Summary: Four years after it’s made illegal to acquire hybrids as pets, you’re approached by the daughter of your old employer to find one that was gifted to her

Warnings: Slight violence, eventual smut, hybrids are looked down on A LOT in this.

A/N: If you read the teasers and find that some stuff is different, it’s because I was so excited to get this out there that I posted a teaser before I did any real editing. Also, if you’re wondering why I’m posting it all over again, please refer to my earlier announcement. Thanks guys!

--------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of cigarettes burned her nostrils as she scrunched her nose up in disgust, her hands firmly at her side so as not to touch any surface lest she contracted some kind of disease from such a filthy place. She sneered at the dust particles floating about and brought a hand to her face to keep herself from gagging at the acrid smell of what she can only guess is piss filtering in from the alleyway. If she weren’t so desperate, she’d hightail it out of that “office” as fast as possible and never look back. But she was in need of a service that required skills as calculated as yours.

“You don’t belong here, princess,” A deep voice cut through the atmosphere and she nearly jumped a good foot in the air. He chuckled as her face burned bright red at having not noticed him lounging in a chair upon her arrival. He was so tall and lanky, his long legs stretched out so far in front of him that it was a miracle she hadn’t tripped over him. His head tilted in amusement, silver earring dangling from his lobe in a way that she was almost drawn to him, his entire aura screaming dangerous and yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away. He was gorgeous as he was clad in all black from the his entire head of hair right down to his steel toed boots.

“I’m looking for Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” She squared her shoulders and held her head high, refusing to allow this handsome stranger to distract her from her goal. Eyes scanning the dark room once more, she noted the scary array of knives lined along one desk she presumed was yours seeing as a leather jacket much too small to belong to a man hung on the back of a broken down chair; given your particular services, she doubted you had any time to sit down anyways. She nodded to the weapon filled desk, “I think I’m right where I belong.”

“She doesn’t like visitors, you know.” The man spoke, rising from his seat and rolling his eyes at the two men who flanked her side coming to stand in front of her. “Especially visitors that clearly have no business with us.”

“Maybe you should let her decide that.” She shouldered past her bodyguards and held out a briefcase, raising a brow when he hesitated to take it from her. “There’s $10,000 dollars in there. If Y/N agrees to my request then there’s twice that amount sitting in my safe with her name on it.”

“Ye-Jin.” Your voice came from behind her, startling her bodyguards and causing them to turn quickly, one man reaching for the gun in the waistband of his pants. You were much faster, grabbing hold of his wrist and pushing him back as hard as you could while your leg swept out to kick the other man in his gut, the steel toe of your combat boot digging into his gut and sending him tumbling backwards. You wrenched the armed man’s wrist around to his back, easily taking his gun and shoving him to the floor next to his partner. A smile flashed across your face as you disassembled the gun before his very eyes and handing the parts to your friend, the guard’s mouth falling open.

“What are you doing in my part of town, Nam?” You turned to Nam Ye-Jin, listening to the rustling of her two goons dusting themselves off as they stood from the ground. “Teahyung’s right. We’ve no business with you so leave.”

“No,” Ye-Jin pushed her nose in the air and you took in a deep breath to keep yourself from reaching over and strangling her. “You haven’t had much business since my father stopped hiring you---.”

“Correction, princess,” You scoffed and stepped towards her, getting a small sense of satisfaction when she shrunk back in fear, “I stopped doing jobs for your father, not the other way around. Don’t let daddy twist that pretty little mind of yours more than he already has.”

“Regardless, you could use the money. How long have you been staying in this dump, Y/N?” She smirked when your shoulders tensed at having been called out on your bullshit. She had seen the mattress occupying the corner of the already crowded room, women’s vest tops and black combat pants that have been ripped from fighting strewn atop it and coming to the only conclusion that made sense. “Now, are you ready to hear my proposal and take this money that you so clearly need or are you still going to turn me away?”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at Ye-Jin, now recognizing her bravado came from none other than Nam Hyungsik, her father and for a while, your only source of income while what you and he had specialized in was still legal. He folded his arms and leaned against your desk, eyeing your posture and taking in the way your hands curled into fists and your jaw set at having taken the bait.

“I’m looking for someone,” Ye-Jin supplied as if that small bit of information was enough reason to take her money. “Well, more like something. A hybrid. My hybrid. It was a birthday gift from my father and it escaped.”

“Oh, I see,” You laughed and shook your head in disbelief, “so that’s why you came to me. You can’t go to the police because trafficking hybrids is illegal. Or did daddy forget to tell you that when he bought you one?”

“He purchased this hybrid for me as a surprise four years ago, back when owning them was perfectly legal.”

“And now it’s not. Your father’s deal with his buyer is void under the hybrid protection act no matter when---.”

“You’re awfully law abiding for someone who specializes in tracking and moving said hybrids.” She snapped and Taehyung quickly moved between you two before you did something rash and gave the local police even more of a reason to throw you in jail. “You were the best, Y/N, and now you’re just another hunter gone to waste because the government gave these animals rights to live freely among us. I’m not asking you to find me a new one, I’m asking you to find what was already mine.”

“Why the hell should I? Give me one good reason I should risk being thrown in prison for life for you.”

“I gave you 10,000 reasons,” She turned to the briefcase that Taehyung had set on your desk and popped it open to reveal a hefty sum of money. “And when you deliver this hybrid to me, I’ll give you 20,000 reasons why it was worth it.”

You looked to Taehyung to find him fixated on the amount of money neither of you had seen in two years. It was more than enough to get the both of you settled somewhere nice for life, never having to track, capture or even sometimes kill a hybrid again. And for damn sure never having to worry about someone like Ye-Jin showing up at your doorstep ever again. This was a chance at a new start, a chance to disappear and create a whole new you.

“How did your hybrid escape?” You asked with a sigh, giving in and taking a folder that one of her guards held out containing every bit of information you needed.

Ye-Jin smiled wickedly and hummed at her small victory, “Daddy brought it to me in a cage and it seemed pretty docile, so---.”

“You bit off more than you can chew,” You snorted as you skimmed the papers in your hand and giving them to Taehyung when you didn’t think they were important.

“It broke through its restraints and killed half a dozen people before making it off the property.”

“Why do you want him back so bad if he’s not tame?” You question as you catch the hybrid’s name and determine its gender.

“That’s my business.”

“I guess your daddy didn’t tell you much about how this works, did he?” You shut the folder and toss it at her feet in an act of defiance to show her that she can’t get away with mouthing off to you simply because she’s your employer. “I hunt hybrids for more reasons than just money. So tell me, why is this one so important to you?”

She glared at you, nostrils flaring at the way you pried and tsked while crossing her arms, “It’s a rare breed, pure bred and worth millions.”

You cocked a brow as a way of telling her to continue or else the deal was off.

“It’s a panther. A black panther.”

“Has your father lost his fucking mind?!” You hissed, running a hand through your tangled hair and tugging on the knotted strands in the process. “Do you even know how close to extinction they are? What kind of dumbass---?”

“Can you do it? Yes or no?” Ye-Jin demanded as you rattled off how unbelievably stupid her father seemed to be.

“No way.” Taehyung answered before you had the chance, shaking his head. “An animal like this is dangerous and he’s better off on his own than caged up in your home. Panthers are fast, strong, and because this one was kept in a cage for all of his life, he’s twice as aggressive. Y/N, tell me you’re not really considering this.”

“We’ve hunted worse, Taehyung,” You tried to argue and not show any bit of fear to Ye-Jin, but he was right. In all of your time hunting, you’d never crossed a panther let alone a black one and given that this one had been bred and held in captivity for all of his life made him unpredictable. He was dangerous and his ability to fight in the trees, on the ground, or in water gave him the upper hand and you didn’t like that one bit.

Taehyung poked his tongue against his cheek in irritation, unwilling to say any more until Ye-Jin let out a small ‘hmph’ and barged towards the door with her two bodyguards in tow, her nose high in the air and a pep in her step now that she was getting exactly what she wanted. When she was gone, he waited a beat before letting out a large huff.

“This shit is dangerous and you know it,” He watched you approach the briefcase and close the latches before you braced your knuckles against your desk and dropped your head in defeat.

“We don’t have a choice, Tae. We’re not exactly raking in money anymore since the hybrid protection act went into effect. Aren’t you tired of barely scraping by?”

“I’d rather be begging on the streets than putting my life on the line for some spoiled little brat who has no regard for hybrid life. Yeah, we used to hunt them but we knew when to draw the line. You heard her, Y/N, she doesn’t give a damn about that panther, she just wants him as part of her collection. You know better than anybody what goes on behind those walls, that family is sick and Ye-Jin getting her hands on that hybrid will kill him. You want that on your conscience?”

“I want,” You whirled around to face him, exasperation written all over your face as his every word sinks in and an internal battle starts within you, “I want to start over, Taehyung. I want to live a life where I never have to consider something like this again. We are criminals, Tae, that’s never going to change as long as we stay here. With this job, we can cut all ties and just leave. We can finally be free.”

“You mean like they want to be?” Taehyung countered and it left you stunned; you spoke of freedom as if you hadn’t had the option before. But the truth was that you chose to be a hunter and you dragged Taehyung into that life with you all those years ago. “Hybrids have been treated like slaves for years, hoping and dreaming for the day to come when they could be free, Y/N. Now it’s here and you want to track down this panther like an animal? For what, some spoiled bitch who’s no doubt going to kill us as soon as we deliver her ‘property’? There’s no way in hell Nam will hold up her end of the deal, especially not if this hybrid is as expensive as she says he is.”

“If he’s killed people then we can’t leave him out there.” Pulling your hair back into a long ponytail, you grab the briefcase and pry open one of the floorboards to stuff into the hiding place only you and Taehyung know about. “He’s volatile which means if he’s out and about among people and he’s cornered, he’ll lash out. We’re better off finding him than leaving it to the local police. The hybrid laws are still fresh and if he’s caught with human blood on his hands, they’ll hang him anyways.”

Taehyung watched you stand and clap your palms together to rid them of the dust and dirt you dug up when pulling at the wooden floor. His eyes followed as you pulled your jacket from the chair and slung it over your shoulders, plucking four or five knives from your collection and tucking them in the various hiding places your combat pants provided and even one into the side of your boot. Something wasn’t right about this situation, there was something Ye-Jin wasn’t telling you and he wasn’t exactly keen on going in blind but he couldn’t very well leave you to track the panther on your own.

“I’m not saying we’ll hand him over right away. I’m saying we need to find him before Ye-Jin hires other hunters if she hasn’t already. I may be her best bet at catching him but I don’t come with a guarantee, she’ll need more than just us looking.”

“You think she went to other hunters?” Taehyung followed you to the door and stepped out into the rain that had started a little less than an hour ago, the droplets of water beating against the window keeping him awake and that’s when he’d spotted Ye-Jin.

“I think if she really wants this panther as bad as she says, then we’re not the only hunters with 10,000 reasons to find him.” You pulled on the door roughly as it was old and the latches didn’t catch securely so it needed that extra oomph just to close the damn thing. The hinges creaked as you jerked it closed and you turned into the pouring rain, hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket to keep your fingers warm as you reached an older modeled jeep. You yanked on the door and hauled yourself into the driver’s seat while Taehyung did the same on the passenger’s side.

“We’re going to get killed, you know.” He leaned back into the seat to make himself comfortable after you started the ignition and pulled onto the busy streets. “It was nice knowing you.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The steel cage Ye-Jin kept in her apartment sized room seemed relatively secure to the naked eye, which is why she would have never noticed that the lock was being slowly sawed off until her hybrid had enough strength to break free from his ‘restraints’, which consisted of a chain collar and leather wrist cuffs. The sight alone made you shudder and bile rise in your throat at the thought of what she could have done to him.

“You mean to tell me that you had him for four years and you never noticed how fragile the lock was becoming on his cage?” Taehyung questioned, holding two pieces of what would be a latch if it wasn’t snapped in half. His eyebrows shot up at how truly naive Ye-Jin had been, judging her and trying his best to keep from voicing how stupid he thought she was.

“I’ve only had him for five months.” Ye-Jin tried to defend herself with narrowed eyes and missing the slight laugh coming from you as you examined the inside of the cage.

“You said he was purchased four years ago,” The gears turned in Taeyhung’s head, recalling the obvious lie you’d been told back at the office and trying to piece together whatever truth was hiding behind it.

“Yes, but daddy simply put down...a deposit, if you will.” She turned to look at you eyeing the tray of scraps sitting on the floor not far from the cage. “It was a present for my 24th birthday this year and daddy secured it before then to make sure no one else purchased it. Daddy hates to disappoint me.”

“Why wait so long to move him?” You asked and toed the tray of scraps that looked about three days old. He was eating, unlike most captured hybrids that nearly starved themselves before accepting their fate of being a pet. He had been building his strength, waiting and allowing Ye-Jin to believe he was becoming domesticated before a chance finally arose for him to break free.

“He wasn’t mature enough to be brought into our home yet.”

“Mature enough for what?” Your head snapped to lock eyes with hers. There’s only one reason people preferred nubile hybrids and it made your skin crawl to think of the kind of abuse they went through to fulfill the desires of the perverts that owned them. “What did you want from him, Ye-Jin?”

“How dare you?!” She squeaked with a flushed face and stomped to her bedroom door, holding it open as her way of telling you to leave for offending her. “If you’re not going to find my hybrid, then leave. There are plenty of other hunters willing to do what I’ve hired them to, no questions asked. Frankly, Y/N, if you’re so worried that I mistreated it then maybe you should take a good, hard look at what you’ve done in the past and recognize that you contributed to hybrid abuse more than anyone else. You are the one who delivered them to people who actually use them for sexual desires, are you not? Don’t accuse me of mistreating my animal when you’ve done much worse.”

Gritting your teeth, you were quick to cross the space between you and Ye-Jin but Taehyung had swooped in and caught your arm before you got too close and killed her. You really couldn’t argue with her when she was right; you’d captured and delivered hybrids without a second thought if you were given the right amount of motivation.

“You came to me,” You reminded her with a growl, hands fisting so tight they shook. “I’m your best chance at finding him and bringing him back to you alive. Need I remind you that you didn’t set any boundaries or give specific instructions when it came to his capture? You think any of those other hunters will bring him back breathing?”

Ye-Jin’s breath caught in her throat; she hadn’t thought of that. She simply asked for her panther to be found, whether he was dead or alive wasn’t a condition that was established among her other employees and they all seemed quite eager to find the cat. Tears glossed over her eyes, whether it was from the distress of losing something she actually cared about or the thought of all that money invested gone to waste, you weren’t sure.

Blinking back the tears, she looked down at the gun tucked into your thigh holster, “You said you’d bring it back alive. What’s with the gun?”

“Relax, it’s full of tranquilizers.” You rolled your eyes and patted said weapon, almost laughing as she jumped in fright. She’d never been around firearms before, that much was obvious and it was a little entertaining to watch her squirm around a gun that wasn’t even lethal.

“Find him,” She conceded and turned on her heel to exit the room but not before stopping and adding over her shoulder, “or you’ll be living in that cage as his replacement.”

“She really isn’t going to admit how in over her head she is, is she?” Taehyung finally let go of your arm and turned back to the panther’s cage. “I at least give her props for setting him up in a much nicer cage than most hybrids experience. Some are just tossed in a dark room or basement,” He stalked back over to the cage and tugged on the bars to test its resistance and finding that any normal human could probably rip it apart. His eyebrows drew together in confusion, “Why did he wait five months to escape? He could have easily broken out his first night.”

“Not if he was weak.” You nodded to the tray of food you found earlier and pointed out the stacks of other trays underneath it. You then pointed to the sawed off lock in pieces on the floor and then to the leather restraints that were gnawed at but not obvious enough for Ye-Jin to notice. “He’s smart, smarter than Ye-Jin was led to believe.”

“What the hell are we dealing with, Y/N?”

“A predator,” You moved to the window of Ye-Jin’s bedroom, scanning the tops of the trees of the woods you were about to explore in search of one Jeon Jungkook. “I always knew the Nam family was a little extravagant, but only they would be dumb enough to buy an undomesticated hybrid and then move it to their cabin in the woods.”

“Sounds like a good horror movie if done right.” Taehyung moved to be at your side and leaned against the window pane. The trees rustled in the wind, leaves were picked up and swirled around, and a pair of critters ran back and forth with playfulness. “He’ll need food soon if he hasn’t already found his way into the city limits.”

“Let’s get busy then.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Ugh, gross,” Taehyung swore as he slapped a hand against the back of his neck and grimaced at the squishy guts of the mosquito he just killed. “Why the hell did I let you drag me out here? You know I hate nature.”

“Because you could use $20,000 just as badly as I could,” You grunted when you lost your footing and fell forwards, landing on all fours and cursing your lack of nature skills. You didn’t usually hunt in such a rural setting but Taehyung had found hybrid footprints just outside the Nam home where he’d jumped from Ye-Jin’s window. “This is your fault anyways, jackass. You’re the one who pointed out the prints to Nam.”

“Hey you’re the one who said we had to catch him before other hunters did and I know you didn’t clock that pair of four wheelers sitting outside Nam’s garage. Other hunters are here and we got a head start.”

“Yeah, some head start,” You kicked a pile of leaves in his direction and laughed at his glare as he dusted the wet leaves from his pants. “And by the way, I did notice them but I bet you didn’t notice the snake decal on one of them, did you?”

“Aw fuck,” Taehyung sighed heavily, “Suho’s guys. Figures.”

“Stay sharp. They follow their 'shoot now, ask questions later' policy to a T.” You peeled your jacket from your shoulders and tied the sleeves around your waist. Taehyung always gave you shit for keeping a leather jacket that was a good 10 years old and frayed at the cuffs; there were much nicer jackets that could easily take the place of your stretched out one, but you weren’t willing to part with it. It drove Taehyung up the wall and he would have thrown it out by now if you wouldn’t murder him for doing so.

“If I get caught up in some poison ivy, I’m shooting you,” Taehyung threatened just as the sound of ATV’s being revved up shook the trees and sent the birds soaring. “Shit.”

“Split up. We’ll cover more ground and you’ll handle the situation better if you run in to them.” You braced a hand against a nearby tree, other hand resting on your knee as you doubled over in exhaustion. “We’ve been at this for hours and it’s going to get dark soon. We’ll meet back up at Nam’s in an hour.”

“Fine,” He frowned, hesitant to leave you alone when there was a predator lurking around, an unstable one at that. “An hour, Y/N, if you’re not back by then I’m coming back out to find you.”

“Deal,” You nodded and stalked forward while he turned back to start in a different direction. The damp leaves were quiet underneath the weight of your boots, the rain subsided after your arrival at the Nam home. You could hear crickets chirping and the rush of water coming from a nearby stream and you followed the sound to a clearing that could have easily been a pit stop for Jungkook. Your throat suddenly felt dry, the temptation of the water drawing you near and you knelt to cup your hands and splash cold water on your face. Bringing your hand up to wipe at your brow, you plopped down on the dirt and rested your elbows on your knees.

You and Taehyung took on too much with this job. Not only was this hybrid smart, he was observant and calculated in ways that made your blood run cold. He reminded you of yourself and you thought it would make chasing him easier, thinking you could predict his every move only to be proven dead wrong when his tracks took you and Taehyung in one giant ass circle for the better part of an hour. Head hanging and shoulders slumped, you really contemplated saying ‘fuck it’ and giving up on the job; you were no match for the black panther Jeon Jungkook. You weren’t even sure why you let Ye-Jin goad you into taking it anyways. Money was your excuse when Taehyung asked you that exact question but pride was the real reason you didn’t back down from her. She’d called you the best and trash all in the same sentence and it stung.

The snapping of a twig had your head whipping around in time to find a fully grown, fully shifted black panther not 10 feet from you, the air leaving your lungs immediately. His fur so dark it resembled the night sky and his eyes so green, a person would think they were actual emeralds. Truthfully, out of the many hybrids you’d encountered, you’d never seen anything more beautiful. His stare pierced yours, studying you and getting ready to pounce as you slowly came into a crouching position, your hand settling on your gun. You took in a deep breath and got ready to draw your weapon when your name came echoing off the trees in a panic, sending Jungkook turning and dashing into the throng of trees.

“No!” You cried and sprinted after him all while knowing damn well you’d never actually catch him. Your name was being screamed somewhere off in the distance and you recognized it as Taehyung, he was in pain, but you were so close to Jungkook. Feet pounding against the ground heavily and breath ragged, you found yourself leaping over a large fallen branch and losing your footing, falling to your knees. You cried out in pain as your hand came down to stop your fall and landed on a sharp rock, the stone slicing the inside of your palm but you continued on, quickly jumping back to your feet to chase down Jungkook.

You came to a sudden stop when you realized you could no longer see his massive black coat, whipping your head around in every direction and trying to locate any sign of him but found nothing. Steadying yourself, you listened carefully for the rustling of his paws or the heavy panting of his breath, doing your best to drown out the wails of Taehyung and your own shallow breathing. Ultimately, the only sounds you were met with was the chirping of birds and crickets, the trees and leaves blowing in the wind, and “Y/N!”

Your jaw ticked as the panic of Taehyung being hurt washed over you. You’d been taught to set those feelings aside and focus on the task at hand but Taehyung was your friend, your best friend who needed you. A giant blur whipped past you and you weren’t able to react before being tackled to the ground by a body full of black fur. You both went tumbling down a small hill, your grunts of pain followed the sting of being cut by sharp rocks and twigs before you finally stopped rolling. You groaned and turned onto your back while you wrapped an arm around your torso having felt Jungkook’s sharp claws take a swipe at you and blood coated your fingers.

“Shit!” You hissed, turning over to your knees and trying to catch your bearings but a low growl had you freezing in place, your head coming up slowly to find yourself almost nose to nose with Jungkook. His lips curled back into a hiss, a low rumbling in his chest as you grit your teeth and heard Taehyung calling for you one more time; his scream was loud and full of agony. For all you knew, Jungkook could have gotten to him first and mauled him in defense.

Gritting your teeth, you decided to take the risk that came with trying to outrun Jungkook and you were on your feet, bounding in Taehyung’s direction faster than you’d ever run in your life, the heavy pounding of Jungkook’s paws moving further away from you in the opposite direction. “Taehyung!”

“Y/N!” He howled as you finally came into view. He’d gotten caught in a snare trap, tripping over the wire and causing the pointed stick to plunge into his calf, blood and dirt running down his leg. The stick was too deep to remove on the spot so you opted for sawing at the wire and having him limp back to the Nam house with the trap still lodged in his leg.

“Holy shit, you’re heavy,” Your arm was wrapped around his waist while his hung around your shoulder to help him out of the woods. “What the hell, Tae, how did you get caught?”

“An ATV was close behind me and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He groaned with every step he took, “Think Nam will get pissed that I’m going to get blood all over his floor?”

“Only you would joke in a situation like this.” You rolled your eyes and finally came upon the Nam house, your knees buckling and almost falling to the ground with Taehyung if one of Suho’s men hadn’t caught you guys. You passed Taehyung off to the much stronger man and took one last look over your shoulder into the dark trees.

“You might want to get that checked out,” Suho’s other man gestured to the blood seeping from your shirt, the injury forgotten in the chaos of getting to Taehyung and then dragging him back to the house. “Looks pretty deep.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“Who was it?” Ye-Jin seethed after gathering her team of hunters into the living room while Taehyung was being tended to by the Nam family doctor.

“Who set the trap?!” She repeated louder. “I’m not paying you idiots to try and kill each other! You’re being paid to catch my hybrid!”

“Isn’t it obvious who did it?” You answered her from the doorway where you stood, hands in your pockets as you sauntered into view. Turning to Byun Baekhyun and Oh Sehun, you ran your tongue along your bottom row of teeth in irritation. “Every hunter knows how Suho operates and that he’d have his men do anything to secure a deal. I’m surprised you haven’t taken each other out yet.”

“Morons!” Ye-Jin screeched and reached out to land a vicious slap to both of their faces and all they could do was stand and take her abuse, not bothering to deny what they’d done. “Why are you wasting my time and yours by setting useless traps?!”

“Well you would know that they’re useless, wouldn’t you, Ye-Jin?” You chuckled when she whirled around to face you, a murderous glint in her eye. “You’re keeping something from us and I’m giving you the chance to tell the rest of them now or I can do it for you.”

Ye-Jin pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and was tempted to throw something at you. Even when you worked for her father, you were the most defiant of hunters and she wasn’t sure how much more she was willing to put up with.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She sneered as the other hunters turned to look at her accusingly.

“Why didn’t you tell us that he was a full shifter?”

A collective ‘what the fuck?’ sounded throughout the living room as the other hunters all shared a knowing look. That piece of information should not have been withheld from them and you, it changed the whole game plan. This was no ordinary hybrid meant to be caught with ordinary techniques.

“You saw it,” Ye-Jin wasn’t visibly phased at having been caught in a lie, “that means you got close.”

You nodded silently as the room turned to you, giving you their undivided attention.

“And you let it go?”

“I went back for Taehyung,” You stepped in her direction, only this time there was no one to stop you, other hunters equally as pissed at the malice in her tone. “Taehyung who was hurt chasing your hybrid. Now if you’re done looking down on us hunters, maybe you’d like to fill us in on what else you’ve been hiding about him.”

Ye-Jin sighed in defeat and sunk down on the couch, fingers running through her perfectly combed hair. “It came from a breeding farm with a bad reputation, they were pretty much known for crossbreeding hybrids and the results were less than pleasant. When my hybrid began causing trouble as it got older, the farm owner locked it away and called my father to sell it. Daddy was just excited to start building his collection again since you decided to stop working for us, Y/N.”

“Hybrids aren’t trophies, Ye-Jin, how many times did I try to drill that into your father’s head?” You dropped your head back and began to wonder just how much stress the human body could take before the person keeled over dead. “So you know nothing about Jungkook? Nothing at all?”

“I know that it was supposed to be the start of a new panther lineage but it wreaked havoc whenever it was time to breed.”

“He,” You corrected angrily stepping in her direction to tower over her, “his name is Jungkook and he’s one of the smartest hybrids I’ve ever encountered. All of us combined couldn’t catch him.” You turned to the rest of the hunters that were hired to address them, “He’s fast, strong, and most importantly, he knows exactly what he’s doing out there. Most hybrids panic after an escape, not being taught how to function in the city among humans but Jungkook,” You shook your head, “he’s unlike anything else we’ve ever gone up against.”

“This is crazy,” Sehun raked a hand down his face and turned for the door but Baekhyun caught hold of his arm to stop him.

“Boss told us to get this job done.” Baekhyun tried his best to keep Sehun from leaving but was only met with a frustrated huff of breath.

“Boss can kiss my ass. This hybrid can shift into a full fucking panther, we’ve never dealt with something like that and I’ll bet my life that neither has Suho. We’re not equipped for this, Baekhyun, none of us are.”

“It’s just a fucking hybrid!” Ye-Jin interrupted their argument, “it’s not like it’s military trained. You’re hunters, so fucking act like it.”

“Screw you, princess,” Sehun seethed and Baekhyun had to brace his hands against Sehun’s chest to keep him from moving any closer to her. “You’ve never had to work a day in your goddamn life so what the hell would you know about hunting? Just because your father tried to build a collection of hybrids doesn’t make him or you an expert. Hybrids are 40% animal, sweetheart and sometimes that 40% overpowers the 60 that’s human. Especially when one’s been mistreated like your precious panther.”

“Not mine,” Ye-Jin assured with grit teeth, “it’s---.”

“He was raised on a breeding farm, Ye-Jin, get your head out of your ass! That farm is overpopulated by products of unsuccessful breeding because the idiot owners don’t know what they’re doing.”

“I can’t believe you bought a full shifting black panther hybrid that was abused all of his life, and locked him up in a cage so weak that a simple human could easily break free.” Baekhyun, paced the room angrily and chewed on the nail of his thumb. “You didn’t think about how dangerous that was?”

“Of course not,” You scoffed and crossed your arms, heading for the hallway to the room where Taehyung was resting, “because daddy assured her it was okay. That because they’re rich and own half the town that they weren’t doing anything illegal, and yeah maybe buying Jungkook before those laws were passed was legal, but it was still inhumane.”

“You didn’t seem to think so when you handed that leopard hybrid off to us all those years ago!” Ye-Jin screamed at you to take the focus off herself and paint you as the bad guy.

“And what happened to her, Ye-Jin? Mi-Sun died not too long after because your father hadn’t a clue how to take care of hybrids!”

“That never stopped you from delivering more. Admit it, Y/N, you never gave a damn about what happened to the hybrids you caught because the money was too good to pass up. I know that’s why you took this job. $10,000 would be just enough to disappear and start anew but guess what, you can erase every physical trace of yourself but you can’t erase the past!”

You leapt onto the coffee table separating you from Ye-Jin and charged at her, tackling her to the floor and raising your fist high before your wrist was caught and you were hauled away by Baekhyun. You struggled against his hold as you and Ye-Jin threw barbs at each other loud enough to have Taehyung stumbling down the hallway to see what the commotion was about.

“You spoiled ass princess! You think your money is so fucking great that you won’t be held accountable for the kind of person you are?!”

“You think the world’s going to forgive you for being a money hungry bit---?!”

“Enough!” Taehyung’s voice boomed and you stopped squirming against Baekhyun’s hold. He looked between you and Ye-Jin and shook his head, annoyed at your bickering. “The fuck is going on?”

“Jungkook is a full shifter,” You supplied while shoving Baekhyun away to straighten your clothes. “Something Ye-Jin failed to mention earlier.”

“Yeah, speaking of which,” He pointed to your torso where your shirt had ridden up to expose a sliver of the bandage that covered Jungkook’s scratch, “what are you doing trying to fight with a scratch like that? You probably opened the stitches, stupid.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised about the panther,” Sehun directed at Taehyung and felt a small stab of guilt when he had to limp into the living room.

“I saw him shift. It’s why I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and got caught in your guys’ snare.”

“You said you didn’t want to be caught up with them,” You accused, “that they were close behind you and that’s why you were distracted.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I told you what I saw,” Taehyung ducked his head in apology but also took the time to joke, “thought it might scare you off if you knew.”

“Screw you, Taehyung.”

#Jeon Jungkook smut #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid au #hunting a hybrid fic #bts imagine #ot7 fanfic #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook fic

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mckitterick · 4 years

Photo

Welcome to the Slow Apocalypse

As a species, we'll almost certainly survive this COVID-19 / SARS-CoV-2 / coronavirus pandemic, the ongoing African plague of locusts, and the apparent collapse of capitalism, but it's turning out to be a serious test for those who've never studied science fiction. Heck, for everyone.

If you grew up during the Cold War (hello, Gen-Xers) you've been bracing yourself for apocalypse since childhood... though, perhaps, not in this form. As kids, we anxiously prepared for World War III and nuclear annihilation by "duck and cover" under our elementary-school desks, but that's yet to materialize.

After the Berlin Wall fell, we transitioned to worrying about the Robot Uprising, maybe something like AM (from Ellison's "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream"), or WOPR (WarGames), or SkyNet (The Terminator) - artificial intelligence taking control to vaporize us bothersome bio-beings. So far, we've managed to avoid that.

More recently, along with the Millennial and Gen-Yers, we've worried about military biotech leading to devastating plagues, possibly even targeting particular genomes in an horrific form of genocide. All along, we maintained our apocalyptic anxiety with horrors such as nanotech run amok, or death from above via asteroid strike or nearby supernovae - or alien invasion. We've worried about global climate change at least since Ballard's 1962 The Drowned World, and that's still a strong contender for ending human civilization. And the million unexpected consequences and unintended side-effects of all the accelerating change we've been witnessing - for example, what if all the bees die?

This apocalypse feels a lot more like another Gen X novel, Stephen King's The Stand.

We're living through a strange, historic moment. It gives us a fair sample of what apocalypse might really taste like:

(abbreviated version of a new Patreon post)

Learning how well you can tolerate housemates as you socially isolate together. Working and schooling from home. Having to prepare safety gear to go outside. Decontaminating when you come back in - or, preferably, before you do so. Worrying about immunocompromised, elderly, and unwell loved ones. Not being able to buy basic staples such as toilet paper or facial tissues. Finding empty shelves at the grocery store. Emergency workers and medical centers unable to treat everyone who needs it, or unable to purchase needed supplies - succumbing to illness themselves. Worrying about death cults appearing on the scene committing their nonsense atrocities. Worrying about curfews and martial law and the end to democratically elected officials. Worrying, worrying, worrying.

Everyone's learning to live with anxiety these days. My insurance company refused to fill a 3-month supply of my anti-anxiety and anti-depressant meds, despite promising they would allow such. Much of the ingredients for our meds come from China, where manufacturing has been at a near-standstill for months - and where most everything most everyone buys originates. You can see the results of this also in empty shelves at your local stores (if they're open), or in "Not Available" notices everywhere across sites like Amazon.

Public schools are closed across the USA - and none too soon, those vectors of disease... and necessary socializing, and for many, necessary food and shelter. Some organizations are stepping up to ensure low-income kids can still eat lunch.

Meetings and public events are canceled, concerts and conventions, anywhere more than 10 people might gather. Colleges extended Spring Break and then ended live classes, shoving some of the least-technical workers (professors) into the task of converting lively in-person discussions to online... things.

For my soon-to-be-online class, we're leaning toward using Zoom alongside our seldom-used Blackboard discussion forum space. (Teachers: Our tests reveal three options: browser [not great], phone app [effective], and computer app [best].) To reduce the tedium, I'm tempted to have us meet in a virtual-reality MMO space like Second Life or the Star Trek Online game, both of which offer free accounts.

On that note, here's a fun (and perhaps too real) take on moving classes online: "Welcome to Your Hastily Prepared Online College Course," by Ryan Weber on McSweeny's.

This is a stupid and unnecessarily disastrous apocalypse. It didn't have to be, if leaders had listened to Gen X anxieties, if they'd listened to the Millennials and Gen-Yers who've been stating very clearly what's wrong with this world.

For example, the Trump administration ignored warnings about how to respond to pandemics last year, then gutted an office that could have managed the outbreak response. Asked at a news conference on Thursday about the government’s preparedness, Trump lied, "Nobody knew there would be a pandemic or epidemic of this proportion. Nobody has ever seen anything like this." But the truth is instead that internal documents show the federal government did, in fact, have considerable knowledge about the risks of a pandemic and accurately predicted the problems that it is now trying to address.

And the USA is far from the only nation to have failed despite the Cassandra cries of experts, science-fiction readers, and young people.

This is not what we expected of the Apocalypse.

No demons rising from the earth or aliens descending from above. No mushroom clouds rising over cities or nano-swarms melting them into gray goo. No robots or bio-engineered werewolves roaming the streets killing all humans. Nothing so exciting.

Instead, we have to stay home in a desperate attempt to slow the daily exponential spread of a virus. We shake our heads at fools who continue to gather in bars. We honor and pity minimum-wage store clerks or other workers forced to face infection or lose the small income their jobs offer.

We wash our hands for 20 seconds while reciting Lady Macbeth's "Out, damned spot" monologue.

Instead of something dramatic enough for a big-budget Hollywood film, we watch the roots of economies based on the most-common form of capitalism rot as banks feed the rot, as they continue to demand mortgage and loan payments from out-of-work laborers. We watch stock markets implode as investors panic because they might no longer extract as much free money by gaming the system to enhance their personal wealth.

This would be a most-boring apocalypse if not for the thousands suffering and dying - perhaps to hit millions in the next few weeks, if we're not all careful, if we don't get a vaccine soon, at the very least if we don't pay attention to how herd immunity works. If we don't pay attention to the power - and dangers - of a powerfully militarized, technological civilization.

Things are rough out there and will likely get worse for a while - shorter if people remain socially isolated. If we don't all panic. If we remember that we're all part of civilization, and try to make the best of it - for everyone.

My heart goes out to every single person on Earth. Except those who knew better and had the means to prepare for this, but did nothing. Or, worse, who have taken advantage of us for so long as to caused what should have been a bad - but not insurmountably so - new virus.

Take care of yourself and those you care for.

Finally: How are you doing? What would you like to see from me, here, in the coming weeks? More stuff like this? New material from The Galactic Adventures of Jack & Stella as I work with my new deep editor? Content from my (newly online) "Science, Technology, & Society" course as we doubtlessly further explore this new pandemic issue from all those angles, as well as how things might continue to change in the coming years?

Related: I'm currently debating what the heck to do about my summer Speculative Fiction Writing Workshop (as is Kij for her SF/F Novel Writing Workshop)... is it ethical to even plan to host a live workshop now, knowing many attendees will have to fly to get here? And once here, do we continue to have them live near each other in our scholarship hall - formerly a big part of the community-building? And what to do about the dinners downtown together, or socializing late into the night? Do I really ask Pat Cadigan, cancer fighter, Cyberpunk co-founder, and brilliant author, to brave the plague skies to join us half way across the infected globe? Will we even have international travel by June? How about interstate travel?

The pandemic won't magically disappear by June. I don't know how we can expect to do the usual things that make this workshop such a wonderful and often life-changing experience for people. And I need to let applicants know ASAP... now is when I normally begin to send out my first set of acceptances. And then there's Pat...

So do I move the SF Workshop online? I've been planning an online workshop for a while - but for accessibility and frequency reasons, not because a pandemic threatens to end the social aspects of live workshopping that I hold most dear. A how to best include Pat - ask her to participate online, too?

If I do take it online, I'll do my best to publicly share the resources on my Patreon that I offer my writers.

Ugh. This apocalypse sucks. Not saying I want one of those other apocalypses I've been worrying about, but if society as-is was destined to collapse, why couldn't it have been aliens?

Take care of yourself and those you care for. Virtual hugs and all my love. We'll make it through this, together.

Best, Chris

(top image is an edit of the Winter 1928 edition of Amazing Stories)

#pandemics #apocalypse #teaching #captialism #science fiction #op

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dyker-farmer · 4 years

Text

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do.

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably.

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh.

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning.

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

#alcohol cw #emetophobia cw #self hatred cw #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #1!Dow Farm #Farmer Uidelsib #☆my art☆#♧Shane #*watch me push my autistic headcanons onto chicken boi*#*just you wait for the trans and hispanic ones*#*i'm about to destroy this man whole career of self depreciation*#*highly functionning dumbass energy vs immovable but movable force of sadness*#food cw #*fuck tumblr for not letting me put a read more on mobile rip ur dash y'all*#☆writing☆

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