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wroteonedad · 1 year

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Biodiversity - Kurt Jackson

Last week, me and my boyfriend took a trip to Southampton. I've been telling him for months how I need to show him the galleries and the big shopping centre, but we finally found an excuse to go. A date night to watch Park Chan-Wook's new romance and crime hit Decision To Leave. I'm not really the type of person to write movie reviews. I know somebody who is snooty and a bit too into films would read what I wrote and tell me everything that was wrong with what I said, but it was a great film. And I'll leave it at that. Anyway, because of the time we arrived into Southampton, we had a good 6 hours to kill before we had to be at the cinema, so we went to the galleries. There were so many fun exhibitions and works between the two galleries and I am absolutely going to revisit the rest of them, but Biodiversity was by far the largest collection of works out of everything I got to see. There's painting, there's writing, there's a vast selection of mixed media works and there is a lot to write about and condense. Not only that, but I was also fortunate enough to see the whole thing before the exhibition closed on the 29th October.

In short summary; the works showcase how biodiverse the world really is. With the use of multi-media practices, we become aware of the variations of life we share the planet with. This project has been designed for us to rethink before we continue with our human behaviour that damages the life around us.

The first segment, I absolutely need to talk about are the texture of these works. I loved them. I was obsessed with them. I wanted to touch them, except if I did I know I would have been thrown out of the gallery and asked to never return.

These are large canvases. They look beautiful when you walk into the room to give the works that initial first glance. The glance that makes you decide if you want to go in for a closer look, and I am so glad I did. The texture in Fallow Ground (left) made me feel like I was a child walking around the school field during the summer, when you're young and you notice every detail. Looking at this made me feel like I was there, just looking down and I'm pretty sure that's the point of the works. Many of Jackson's works are painted and created within the environments he is in, as if he is documenting it in real time. This is what it looks like now. Maybe, if he went back again in 10 years to the same spot and painted it again, I'm more than sure the area would look different again. A Sky Full of Flight (right) is another canvas in which it is rich in colour and features the saltmarsh from a slightly different angle. This is created as if you were standing and looking out. There are added textures and markings to paint as though it was a classic painting, without all the full notions of a classic painting. The painting feels like it contains a secret story with his writing across the top of the canvas reading, 'flock of grazing brent geese. a lonely curlew. a gang of starlings.' The more you look at the canvases, the more handwritten stories and scene setters there are.

Dorset Lowland Heath (2020).

I was a really big fan on how rich the work looked from afar, but then finding out it was rough around the edges upon closer inspection. I really love when I look at the canvas that the artist has painted on and find little strokes of the brush on the side of the canvas. I feel like it is something that makes the work feel more raw and personal. I'm sure sometimes it is more of a stylistic choice, but nonetheless it never fails to impress me.

Some of the works featured smaller, visually striking concepts. Speaking from Jackson's short film about the body of works, he explains that these are all things that are living around him, and it's only by being aware of what we share the planet with that we have a chance of appreciating all of these other life forms. The details from both of these works; the collection of different species of fern that you can find in the UK. They are quite small things that we either don't notice or we take for granted. He paints them in a way that not only looks like a sketchbook, but also catches the eye, in a way you may end up looking at the works and finding some of these lifeforms for yourself.

The concept of this is very similar with 'Spreading Oak' field, Somerset (2019). This piece is created to portray a food chain. The way that every one of these creatures cannot live because they need to supply to another creature, or a creature bigger than them consumes them to stay alive. These are all creatures Jackson found in that field, so it is literal, but also presents many metaphorical factors to the work. I really feel like this a body of work that you could take your family to and they would look at it literally and tell you it's really nice, but then not look into the deeper meaning behind it. But that isn't a bad thing for a body of work like this.

Upon further entry into the exhibition, you are then in another room, the walls full from brightly painted canvases from a variation of nature reserves or marshes from Cornwall, all the way to Norfolk. Between these paintings, you find multiple sculptures. Birds, lots of birds. Smaller paintings dedicated to little sea creatures. A corner for pieces of rubbish that have been picked up and collaged together. Perhaps his most kleptomaniac work yet, and very different from the rest of the body of work, visually anyway. The meaning stays the same throughout the different types of mixed media that is on offer to view.

This piece above is Bioblitz of Vauxhall Bride Road (2019), a mixed media piece. I chose to share the close up image of the shot so you can all see how detailed the works are and how they all vary with each other too. In the centre of the collage you have a drawing of Vauxhall Bridge, a quick sketch of the commotion and life passing by. It is surrounded by pieces of rubbish from the floor and a small collection of leaves. Judging by the leaves alone, it is very easy to tell that this piece was made in early autumn. The assortment of rubbish collected is a collection taken from the specific area he was in at that moment, empty filters, McDonalds, all litter the floor among piles of dying leaves. It's striking, but it is also kleptomania at its most manic.

In Pyramid Stage Field, Glastonbury Festival (2019) (left), Jackson features another selection of rubbish and flyers that he's picked up, scaled them all down to be equal size and then has stuck leaves and drawn birds and plants on others. This painting a narrative of biodiversity he saw in the area as he collected the tickets, flyers and assortment of rubbish off the ground. The same stands for Between the Tracks, Weybridge Station (2019) (right). The work features a collaged assortment of train tickets that have been scattered around the station that Jackson has then collected and drawn on, to abbreviate the other forms of life around him. The work also featuring a sketch of the train track itself on an autumn day, being the full initial location he was on and the major inspiration for the rest of the works.

All in all, Biodiversity is an impressive body of work with lots of different forms to immerse yourself into. While the narratives of the works themselves can become a little bit repetitive, I think it's something that has been used on purpose to really nail into the audiences head that we all need to take better care of the planet because of all the different forms of life that there is out there other than just animals and human beings. The change in climate is something that is going to affect everyone and everything over time and its best to preserve what we have while we have it. You can also watch his short movie where he explains more of the story of Biodviersity below.

youtube

You can check out his other selections of work here

#kurt jackson #biodiversity #art review #writing

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burneddownthegym · 3 years

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When do you think Buffy and Spike started developing feelings for each other? I think for Spike it started in season 2 which has been kind of confirmed by Dru, but what about Buffy? Their relationship seemed to change after Spike let Glory torture him to protect Dawn, but I like to believe Buffy had unregistered feelings for Spike way earlier. I don’t know what’s true though. She let him live many times when she shouldn’t and that could just be the writers wanting to keep Spike but it could also be read as Buffy not wanting to kill him for some reason. If I were Buffy I would have at least been attracted to him from the start but I’m not Buffy. What do you think?

oh god. i started writing this and it just got more and more unhinged until i was left with a novel. but here’s my headcanon under the cut.

i think for spike it started in season 2, yeah. kind of immediately. i mean in his second episode he already has like ten tv’s mounted on the ceiling to obsessively watch buffy fight? ok weirdo. obviously the writers weren’t planning on spuffy at the time but it all fits with the dru retcon in “fool for love”. i think any feelings he had were super repressed in him for a while though, and were probably closer to obsession than anything (where does one draw the line between obsession and love? much to think about!!). tbh, and maybe this is controversial, i kind of think it’s not until “intervention” that he really understands just how in love with her he is, or what it really means to be in love with her. he definitely thinks he’s in love, he has a raging, identity-crisis crush, but i don’t know, something just feels different after that episode. i feel like it’s when his feelings for buffy really become less about him and more about her. like, less about having her or wanting her to recognize him, and more about wanting to be what she actually needs. less about *loving* buffy and more about loving *buffy*, maybe. so even though his feelings before then are real, they feel real in a different way to me after “intervention”.

buffy is harder. personally, i don’t think she was ever consciously attracted to spike until maybe s5. (buffy being immediately attracted to him in fic is actually a huge pet peeve for me; it doesn’t feel in character at all and can even make me stop reading). i think there was latent attraction, but spike was just so far outside the bounds of who she thought she would be attracted to that it doesn’t register that way (reason #34095 spuffy is a lesbian ship, obv. also it’s why her being attracted to him immediately can turn me off in fic, bc it makes the relationship feel less gay, and that’s kind of important to me). i think she finds him tacky and annoying and lame and just not a sexual object. he’s a soulless vampire and you don’t sexualize those. and so anything sexual she felt toward him she dismissed the way you might dismiss a weird sex dream about someone you’d never want in real life (jane espenson apparently had notes on her desk pre-s5 saying buffy had sex dreams about him, which i totally buy, especially after “something blue”). i think one of the reasons she freaks out so bad in “crush” is that suddenly spike isn’t in the non-sexualizable category anymore. like, what, vampires and slayers are sexualizing each other now? like in real life not just innuendo? you broke the rules, what am i supposed to do now? it’s why she’s so weirded out when he tries to kiss her in “fool for love” and goes on about how people can’t love without a soul in “crush”. spike isn’t fitting his sexual category and she doesn’t know how to deal with it so she tries to stuff him back in. long story short, i think it’s only after “crush” that she actually consciously thinks about his attractiveness, because before then he just wasn’t someone on the table for her to think about that way.

(oh i should also add—i think spike’s “crush” moment with buffy is “who are you?” when faith comes onto him. because it was sort of a similar thing for him. even though he was attracted to buffy before that episode, it was something he repressed or treated as kind of a game. innuendo and eroticism as a battle tactic but not something you’d actually follow through on in real life. but he thinks buffy breaks the rules in “who are you?” and suddenly makes herself real-life sexualizable. so i think his attraction becomes more conscious after that, even if he’s still trying to act like it’s something that disgusts him, like buffy post-“crush”.)

(also, this is why it’s so easy to read violence and murder as sublimated desire in a gay way with spuffy. it’s not really about murder and violence. it’s about them expressing romantic/erotic desire within the bounds of what their roles allow, because they can’t conceive of each other in other roles.)

but i do think buffy did still have some sort of draw to spike before s5. i feel like instinctually she saw him as more of a person than other vampires pretty early. definitely not consciously, and definitely wasn’t love. but she talks to him like he’s a really annoying guy more than she talks to him like some sort of mindless enemy. she doesn’t bother telling other soulless vampires that she violently dislikes them, or mock them about their breakups. i think the only other soulless vampires she sort of treats that way are harmony and holden in cwdp, which makes sense since both of those are vampires she knew before they were vamped. she didn’t kill harmony either, and wasn’t excited about having to kill holden. but spike is the only “stranger” vampire she sees that way, and i think that’s interesting! i think a lot of her conflict over him is due to this too, tbh. he instinctually feels like both a person and not-a-person to her, and that’s hard for her to process.

i have zero canon to back this up, but i think the first time buffy kind of sort of falls in love with spike is in “the gift”, when he says he’d protect dawn until the end of the world. i mainly think this because i don’t think it can be understated how important dawn is to buffy, or how telling it is that she kisses spike in “intervention”. other people have said this, but she just doesn’t kiss people every time they do something nice for her. i don’t think she would have done that unless she felt some sort of latent *something* for him, and unless he’d done something that really deeply affected her. him being willing to sacrifice himself for dawn’s sake, or protect her above all, affects buffy first: because of how self-sacrificing she is. she’s always the one who has to die or put herself on the line for other people. and second: she’s the only one who cares about dawn the way she does. no one else goes into a coma or threatens giles or vows to protect her until the end of the world…except spike.

so the fact that spike would understand the self-sacrificial and protecting-dawn parts of her, or help her with them in the same unthinkingly committed way, when no one else is, i think hits her where she lives. he understands and is not just supporting, but *embodying* this hugely important thing to her at the time when it counts the most. so she falls a bit in love with him. maybe just a second, or a minute, and then she ignores it and saves the world. but that’s the first time it happens.

then as far as s6 goes, i pretty much take buffy at her word when she says she has feelings for him, but that they’re not love. i think she has really intense and confusing emotions around him and for him, but they just don’t cohere into something that could be called something clear-cut like love. and that’s sort of the tragedy of that season? it has all the potential and intensity and chemistry for love, but she doesn’t like or trust herself and she doesn’t trust him, and he isn’t in a place where he can understand the guilt and self-hate she’s going through, or be moral without her guidance, and so in a lot of ways her lack of trust really is justified. so it just can’t quite reach the realness of love, where you want and want to care for the other person’s whole self. but (adding this edit based on a comment by marinxttes!), i totally agree that a lot of her breakup with spike is about her feeling enough for him that it doesn’t feel right to use him anymore. i think that’s the decisive moment when she stops being confused about whether he is or isn’t a person (and whether *she* is or isn’t), and decides he is one. maybe not one she thinks she can love yet, but one she genuinely cares about doing right by, and that’s a huge shift.

i believe her in s7 too when dawn asks if she loves him and she says she feels for him. i don’t know when exactly that whole mess starts cohering into something that really is love for buffy, but i feel like it’s happening the whole season. like air condensing into water. all the pieces have been there, amorphously, for a long time, and finally they’re allowed to take form. so when she says “i love you” in “chosen”, it’s at once something new, and also something that’s been there all along.

#ship: spuffy #do i have evidence to back up 90% of this? no #am i going to post it anyway? absolutely

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?”

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.”

His wife looked quite pleased with herself.

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.”

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.”

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-”

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.”

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?”

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out.

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live.

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.”

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.”

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because.

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili.

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction.

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.”

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...”

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting.

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.”

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child.

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere.

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

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twerkinwithhazza · 3 years

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Pumpkin Seeds

Author’s Note: UH OHHH BACK AGAIN. I’m back yall finally off hiatus all because my phone is broken LOL. Anywho tumblr is a totally different place and most of my mutuals are adulting now. I would love new tumblr friends and I’m gonna try to continue this writing stuff but I’m busy with adult things now lol and it really depends on if you guys like what you see. Please excuse my rustiness this my first imagine in years... literally. I’ll get better with time. This was also slightly edited but I know there bound to be some mistakes. Anyways watch the Golden music video for clear skin and I hope you guys enjoy! I think it's so adorable that whoever requested this thought this request wouldn't speak to me lol ! It definitely did because this went from a blurb to a full blown imagine.

psst you can read my other work here!

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut and possible shitty writing, dirty talk, light choking, and some cursing.

Glossary: (y/c/n)= your cousins name + (y/m/n)= your mothers name

Request: hi!!!! if you are wrtiting for Harry please can you do one where missus and Harry are at a family party and have a quickie in the bathroom? don’t worry if it’s not speaking to you lol xxx

Normally you and your husband loved spending time with your families. Harry was always playing a balancing act between filming music videos, doing interviews, writing sessions, and an occasional date night in the house that always involved a Postmates order from your favorite restaurants and the two of you binge-watching Netflix on shuffle. As much as the both of you enjoyed stuffing your face with poke bowls from Poke Papa and watching True Crime stories, it wasn’t exactly romantic or fulfilling for the both of you, just enough to hold you over until his schedule clears up. So when Harry finally got a weekend off, you guys were ecstatic! You spent the week cleaning the house and meal prepping so no Postmates would be needed and Harry used his free time in between interviews for shopping for special toys and pretty lingerie he wanted to see you model for him. Flirty text messages were sent back and forth during small work breaks about your plans for the weekend and now all the two of you had to do was make it Saturday.

You’re not gonna like this...

The 5 words that destroyed you and Harry’s weekend plans. Anne called while you were organizing your closet and announced that her and Gemma, along with your parents and favorite cousins were coming to town to spend time with the two of you. You tried to convince her that maybe a small dinner party at that new fancy restaurant downtown would be a perfect spot for a get together but she was adamant about coming over to cook the two of you a homecooked meal. Breaking the news to Harry was the worst part, he was clearly devastated (you swore you saw the man shed a few tears). Now here you were stuffing your mouth with Anne’s famous juicy cooked duck instead of your husband's juicy di...

“(Y/N) can you pass me the mashed potatoes”

Your dad’s strong yet muffled voice interrupted your train of thought and broke you out of your horny trance as he chowed down on his meal. Pushing the dish over in your dad's direction allowed you the chance to look around and take a glance at Harry who was making small talk with one of your favorite cousins. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, of course with a few buttons loose, and his cross necklace bounced on his chest as he laughed at your cousin's crazy work stories. You focused on his fingers, his infamous rings adorned his hands, you noted that they were slightly damp from eating and the condensation on his glass cup. As you were drinking in his appearance a small damp spot was forming in your panties but given that there were too many eyewitnesses including, yours and his parents so you chose to just clamp your thighs shut and stuff your mouth with more mashed potatoes.

Harry deserved his credit as a husband. Despite his calm demeanor, he was very well aware of your little ordeal yet still managed to give interview advice to (y/c/n) and compliment your mom’s cocktail mix. He was quite amused by how increasingly frustrated you were becoming. He noted your concentrated face as you munched harshly on a string bean, hands clenching onto the fork for dear life. He decided to do a little temperature check to truly see how far gone you were.

“So what are we thinking for dessert pecan pie or crumble cake ?”, Harry questioned as he stuck his fork in his mouth, pulling it out again once all the gravy was licked clean. Your eyes finally met and you can tell that he was tossing the ball in your court, it was your job to show him how you wanted the game to be played.

“Mmm I don’t know I guess I’ll have some pecan pie but I really wish I had some pumpkin seeds”, you flatly said as you finished sipping your wine, maintaining full eye contact with him.

Pumpkin seeds. You and Harry were “outside of the box” thinkers, you had to be with his life as a celebrity not exactly pairing well with your shared sexual fantasies. You had code words to indicate to each other when you were craving the other one's touch, but you knew that using the same words around friends, family, and other public figures for too long would possibly cause some suspicion. So your code words changed with the seasons, literally. When the leaves started turning that classic golden yellow and auburn, your code words changed thus came the use of the word Pumpkin Seeds.

Gemma and your mom shared a glance, raising their eyebrows in collective confusion.

“Pumpkin seeds.. For dessert ?” Gemma finally burst out., both of your mothers soft laughter followed in the background.

“Heyyy” ,Harry pouted as he bopped Gemma on the nose with some gravy ,“ I have you know Pumpkin Seeds are one of our favorite midnight snacks”.

“Gross“, Gemma stuck out her tongue and wiped her nose. You couldn't tell whether she was referring to the gravy on her nose, your choice of midnight snacks, Harry’s smug statement followed by a wink at you, or a combination of all three.

“Well we can be concerned with dessert once we break out the baby pictures, I’ve been dying to see the infamous skinny dipping picture (y/m/n) has been telling me about”. Anne clapped her hands together and hopped out of her seat heading to the kitchen. Your mother followed behind but not before instructing you to head up to the attic to retrieve the pictures. You glanced at Harry but he seemed occupied cleaning up the dinner plates with your dad. You let out a frustrated huff and made your way up to the attic to grab the photo albums.

As you shuffled through old boxes holding Harry’s old tour outfits and your little knickknacks from your travels, you heard the attic door open.

“Pumpkin seeds huh?”, Harry lightly chuckled letting the attic door close and leaning against the door frame.

You refused to make eye contact with him, continuing to shuffle through the bins locating a few photo albums as you went , “It was only a matter of time Harry and you know it. Our weekend got stolen and we haven’t... ya know in like two weeks. So, yes Harry I want some damn pumpkin seeds.”

You let out a huff. You didn’t mean to come off so sassy and aggressive but you were frustrated… sexually. Your cousin was getting more Harry time in the 3 hour family dinner than you had gotten in the past two weeks. You stacked the photo albums gently on top of each other and cradled them in your arms, finally turning to face your husband but you didn't have to look very far. Harry had closed that gap between the two of you, gripping your face and making you look up at him causing you to drop the albums in shock.

“Well let’s get you your pumpkin seeds then”

That’s all it took and sparks turned into a flame, you and Harry’s bodies connected and a feverish makeout session broke out. You both were so hungry for each other after weeks of neglects and it just felt so damn good to finally connect. Harry’s wet kisses were making their way down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. You knew he was getting into it and normally you would be completely here for it if your kitchen wasn’t flooded with family members waiting to laugh at your baby pictures.

“Baby.. we… fuckkkkk”, You moaned out as Harry popped one of your nipples out of his mouth before moving to nip on the next one. “Baby we can’t your mom is downstairs… we have to go”, you finally let out and glanced down at your husband as pinched your nipples between his finger tips. “When has that ever stopped us”, he slyly laughs. In one swift motion, he turned you around pulling your back into his chest pulling down your skirt. You couldn’t even get words of protest out, Harry had his hands wrapped around your neck and was already freeing himself from his pants and boxers. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a hiss as he watched a string of your arousal stretch from your dripping flower to his fingers.

“Baby please just do something”, you huffed out a soft moan as you waited in anticipation. The grip around your throat tightened as he entered you, both of you letting out a sigh of relief. Harry completely bottomed out inside of you, touching that special spot that only he could. Your walls clenched around him, holding him in snug almost as if your pussy was begging him not to leave. Normally the two you were very vocal during sex from dirty talk to his loud moans and your even louder cries of pleasure. However you both knew that wasn’t possible right now and kept your moans down as much as you could. Harry was not making it easy though and the noise coming from the two of your bodies colliding were basty in the best ways possible. With every thrust of Harry’s hip you could hear your wetness coating Harry dick and as Harry picked up the speed his balls roughly tapped on your clit, only adding to your pleasure. You could barely form thoughts let alone sentence, Harry was literally fucking you silly and using your G-Spot as punching bag for his dick, The sounds and the pleasure were clearly getting to Harry as well, the grip he had on your hips grew tighter and his eyes were squeezed shut.

“Bloody fucking hell you’re so tight around me, can’t even take it”, he groans and throws his head back as he roughly draws your hips into his. It didn’t even feel like it was possible but Harry picked up the speed of his thrust continuing the assault on your poor needy pussy even further. The pleasure was all too much and that oh so familiar feeling hit the pit of your stomach and you were starting to lose your composure. Your moans were getting increasingly louder and your grip on Harry was growing tighter. Harry knew his wife and he knew your dam was getting closer and closer to breaking and he was determined to get you there. He placed a hand over your mouth and moved his other hands down to your clit rubbing it in slow circles. “ Look at you” he cooed cockily, “Taking me so fucking well like a good girl should. Barely let out a scream ‘cus you don’t want your parents to hear how much of a cock whore you are”. He knew you wouldn’t last long with the way he was talking to you and he was absolutely correct because his words were driving you insane. As the pressure was continued building up in your stomach, you felt the telling twitch in Harry’s dick that let you know he was approaching his end too.

“Gonna give me what I want uh? Gonna cum all over my cock and let me cum in that tight little pussy of yours. You gotta hold it in.. don’t want to leave any drops for our guest to find huh? Gonna be a good girl and hold all my cum in you?”, Harry grunted into your ear as you whimpered against his hands. You were seeing stars and feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach and you knew it was only a matter of time before you both came undone.” Oh baby”, you whined and your head fell down as the pressure from your stomach finally was released as your orgasm spilled out all over Harry’s dick and thighs. The gushing feeling from your orgasm and your weak whimpers and cries drove Harry overboard, burying his face in your neck and his roughly groaning as he released inside of you. The two of you stayed connected for a bit, thighs stuck together thanks to your shared orgasm with Harry’s arm wrapped around your waist supporting both of your weights up as you composed yourselves. When he finally pulled out of you, you kept every drop he gave you tucked inside your tight walls just as promised.

“So those Pumpkin Seeds huh”

376 notes · View notes

drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

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If you’re name was crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you!

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randombtsprincessa · 3 years

Text

Belladonna || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader, Past Lovers! AU

Words: 3k

Genre: Heavy Angst, Smut

Rating: This chapter is General up to NC-17, rating might go up as story progresses.

Summary: Your life has finally settled into a routine; keeping you far away from your home, friends, family and the man who broke your heart. Coming back home means facing him again and maybe you’re not as over him as you’d like to believe.

Warnings: (in-chap) Heavy Angst, mentions of a toxic relationship.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The idol used as the Muse for the lead is not in anyway affiliated with the work. The characterisation is a work of mine. Any asks or accusations against the work on the grounds of inability to keep fact and fiction seperate on the part of the reader, will not be entertained.

A/N: Its’s rather sad that the disclaimer has to be added but eh, it’s a bad time for tumblr writing fandom and people are being very mean. Brush past that if you’re sane. Anyway, a very very huge hug to my best friends for screaming at me about this fic. A bunch of thanks to @softyoongiionly for hyping up the chapter! And a round of applause for @kithtaehyung for beta-ing the chappie!!

Happy Birthday Yoonfie baby!!

It was cold inside the cabin, the air conditioner turned extreme while the outer windows fogged with condensation. Your head leaned against the pane, the thudding and rolling of the train wheels under you jarring your brain in your skull as you watched the world outside flash speedily by.

Trees, small gravelly roads, sign boards, sparse traffic here and there…and then rolling grasslands before the pattern repeated itself…redundant, normal, and soothing.

You sighed, a puff of white exhale clouding around your mouth while your eyes drifted back to the interior of the cabin. This sight was a lot more different, with different people having different lives, problems, worries…

A woman tended to her sniffling child, holding a handkerchief up to the girl’s running nose…a man spoke into his phone; harried and rushed as he more likely than not slurred a few words together…

It was when your eyes caught a girl laying her head on the boy next to hers’ shoulder, smiling serenely when the boy ran a hand through her locks that you turned around again, eyes back to watching the redundant.

There was nothing soothing about people watching.

Or maybe there was and it required some form of inner peace to find the charm in it.

You didn’t have that sort of inner peace; neither did you have the patience for it.

People watching for people like you was anxiety inducing…and you really didn’t want that burden on your shoulders right now. There would be enough anxiety waiting for you when you set your foot home.

“____?”

You turned coffee worn, blue light sunken eyes towards your boss, standing over you with his files clutched to his chest nervously. The sight was enough to make you chuckle. For all his genius, Kim Namjoon was just a giant fumbling through life. It made him a stellar boss and manager, but it also made him a wonderful friend.

“Yes?”

“I just got your email for the leave application.”

You blinked up at your boss expectantly, face calm and relaxed. Of course, your brain had shot straight to overdrive, praying, wishing, and begging for a miracle that would allow your boss to refute the application.

A large red denied would do nothing to hamper your mood; at least it would stamp down the very intrusive tendril of panic that was already gripping around you.

You waited until Namjoon was done rustling inside of the folder in the crook of his arm. The white print out was placed in front of you, green letterings spelling ACCEPTED AND FORWARDED, scrawled on the top screaming obscenities at you.

You looked back at Namjoon.

“We don’t have a lot of work load right now plus you look dead on your feet. Some time away with your folks will be nice, won’t it?”

You very nearly grimaced at his words.

He was sincere, of course he was. Namjoon didn’t have a conniving bone in his body, but right now, you couldn’t help but resent his kindness, his mushy brain that railed against exploiting his workers. You hated the fact that he looked into your eyes and saw past the stubborn energy and caught onto the exhausted person underneath.

So you offered him a tiny smile, just in case the flicker of your crushing despair was made clear onto your traitor face.

“Thank you, Namjoon.”

He placed a heavy, tight hand on your shoulder as he passed by.

“Have a nice vacation, ____.”

Usually, someone who was away from home, working their ass off, making something of themselves away from their family should ideally jump at the chance to take a vacation, to go home and see the family and friends they had.

Ideally…one should be happy at the prospect of going home.

So many times, however, situations were rarely ideal. Sometimes there were complications, convolutions, obstacles…

Sometimes people had no love in their hearts; sometimes there was nothing at all.

Sometimes, there was dread.

Right then, in the rattling carriage that carried you to the small town which had spawned your existence, you could sense the dread carving a pit into your stomach, roiling and curling like a wretched cat kept too long from sunshine.

There was no relief for the upcoming long sleepy times, no joy at the prospect of home food…of warm embraces…

There was just that god awful dread.

You hoped you wouldn’t throw up; though there was nothing in your stomach to hurl but for the coffee you’d pumped in you from the station café. You couldn’t keep anything else down.

You had upped and left your home right after the end of your college life. Many things had come to an end with that particular period in your life. You had scampered and scrapped together enough courage to exit the hole that still robbed you of breath sometimes when you twisted and turned in your bed – sleepless.

You had left shattered pieces of your heart in your whirling escape of the town, the space that you had now the only light that shone at the end of the tunnel back then. Your family and friends, as supportive as they were, had never truly understood why you had nearly clawed away from that world.

To them, it had been the job opportunity.

And it was understandable…

The town, as well-knit and seemingly lovable as it was, was used to being self sufficient. The people there didn’t ever need to leave, they knew everything, helped everyone, and any problem one of them had was a problem for them all.

You couldn’t fit yourself in that mold anymore.

You had left – knowingly cut yourself away from that community.

Your friends had remained; some spreading out of course but they were still as much a part of that bunch as they had been when born.

You didn’t expect anything from them.

Not when he was also still a part of that community.

Your mind jerked away moments before conjuring his likeness behind your eyes, the ticket collector bearing down to save you from the torture of it.

Your fingers fumbled with the pockets of your bag, slipping the stub into his patient hands as he clipped and handed it back to you.

You accepted it meekly, folding into yourself again, eyes drifting back out the window and firmly tugging your thoughts away from your past. You had to prepare for what was going to come now.

Nobody expected you to come, you knew. It was a surprise to you yourself that you had found enough guts in you to pull this off.

Namjoon’s words came back to you.

Some time away with your folks will be nice, won’t it?

You weren’t going to hold out much hope for that.

You found a cab almost immediately out of the station, the many cruisers that stood to one side eager to free you of your luggage and take you off to your destination. You gave your address shakily, hoping this particular driver wasn’t one of the townspeople. Luckily, the man didn’t bat an eye, instead nodding and quietly switching on the radio for the drive over.

You leaned back into the seats, arms grasping the strap of your handbag tight as the moment to face your family and close ones drew closer.

Objectively, your little hometown was very pretty.

Trees lined the major roads, small clusters of buildings interjecting the greenery to spread business to the good people. And as tense as you were, your mind couldn’t help but pick out the differences.

Boutiques were newer and flashier, the diners you remembered now expanded to add cafes or banquets. The town hall was an imposing as ever, only a new marble fountain added to the square in front of it now.

By the time your cab entered the section of the suburbs where you had grown up; your back was straight, neatly aligned with the window. If you had been dreading the homecoming before, it was all gone; replaced with an odd form of resignation.

You lugged your bags out and paid the taxi driver with cold hands, winding bloodless fingers around the handles to pull them up the drive way towards your open door.

The house was full, open and bustling – a normal day for when your mother threw one of her success parties. She was one of the famous people in the town, her career as a landscaper and home decorator for big names making her in turn the man source of revenue and attraction for the town.

It had been both a source of pride and embarrassment to you in your teens. Mainly because your mother insisted on these parties each and every time one of her projects turned out well. But then, as you grew you realized that this is why your mother was important to the town.

She was more than half the money earned and the social events of the calendar.

Inside the house, small clusters of people gathered here and there, in the living room, the kitchen, the dining space. You stood at the door; feeling more exposed than you ever had here but moved in quickly, lest one of them notice you in the doorway and start blabbering about it.

Of course, the three big bags that you carried more than made up for it.

One of the groups of women nearest you turned their heads in synchrony, taking double looks as you passed by before the murmurs began.

How could you tell?

Well because, gossip usually lowers ones’ volume. And each group you passed stopped conversing before muttering arose in its place.

You cut across the living room to your father’s den. Here, there were all men, hands cupping your dad’s cut glasses of scotch but thankfully no one mentioned you dumping your bags right by the door and walking back out.

Your hands fiddled with your scarf, wondering where your family was in their own party but you were loathing asking one of the guests.

Even as you convinced yourself to walk over to one of the ladies by the window sofa, a figure walked past opposite you, a handful of trays of cocktail bites and glasses on them. You jumped, watching as the woman placed the trays on the coffee table, smiling at the people before she turned…and spotted you.

Your sister’s eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering before quick steps led her closer to you.

“____?” She asked, almost checking if it really was you.

You smiled wryly, hand still tangled with your scarf. “Hi Sana, yes it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” She threw herself at you, arms wrapping around your neck to draw you into a warm and nearly forgotten embrace. You stood in her hold for a few seconds, managing to pat her back before she was pulling away, eyes glistening at you.

“Oh god, don’t cry,” you whispered immediately.

“Shut up, these are happy tears; my little sister is home! Hang on; I’ll go get Mom and Dad.” She turned on her heel before you got another word out, mouth parted as she disappeared into the house.

You stood rooted to the spot, hoping against hope she brought your dad first. You just knew your mom would start bawling and then all the neighbors and her social circle would start hovering like the pack of vultures you had the low opinion of them as.

It was unfair and very rude of you, yes, but you couldn’t help but remember half the rumors and gossip that had come from none other than these same people when you had first left. Sympathy or well wishes from them now, would only make you more disgusted.

It had made you keep your own mother at a distance, seeing as she was probably the source of their information.

Thankfully, you knew you could always depend on your dad.

A no-nonsense and rational person, he was only guilty of being extremely in love with your mother. You knew he only bore these parties for her sake and of course your sister, Sana’s.

So when you saw Sana come back, with both your parents you still heaved a relived sigh.

“____, my god, you’re really here.” Your mother was the second to hug you, your father following.

“We didn’t think you would make it this year too.” Your dad said.

“Yeah, it’s been hectic…a lot…for the last couple years.” You repeated the same lies you’d been spouting for two years now. You had spoken the same lines into your phone, in your emails over months and it came much easier while speaking them to their faces.

“Very hectic for a well-established firm, ____, you could’ve asked for a leave, I’m sure office policy allows that.” Your dad said in that logical baritone that rendered most arguments moot.

“That is actually how I got away, Namjoon insisted.” You said; not completely untrue.

“Well, I for one am very happy my little girl is back to me. You’ll stay for a bit, won’t you?” Your mother stroked your hair back from your face.

You smiled tightly at her, thinking of the weeks Namjoon had generously piled on you out of respect for your relentless working for two years under him.

“Yes.”

You caught Sana try and push in, her eyes seeking yours even as your mother squealed in jubilation. “Perfect, we are going to have to throw you a coming home party.”

“Y/M/N,” Your father said lightly. “We are at a party now.”

“Yes, but ____ deserves her own night.” Sana put in before grabbing your hand. “Come on,” she dragged you away from your debating parents.

“Not a lot has changed I guess.” You spoke drily.

“Yeah, maybe, listen I think we need to –”

Sana was cut off by a gasp of your name, your head swiveling to see Park Jimin, one of your old friends gaping at you.

It was a whirlwind of reunions and emotions as people gathered around you, astonished that you’d come back without any mention of it.

“Yeah, I – I guess, it’s a surprise.” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, going over the faces of your childhood to college friends.

Many things had changed while you were gone, true – to the town, to the people and even to your friends but one thing you were glad to see…they hadn’t cut you away completely. Yes, your interaction with them had been reduced to the odd Facebook and Twitter chats and the occasional emails and texts here and there but they still looked…happy to see you.

Park Jimin and his twin, Jihyo had been the first ones to come to you, Jihyo hugging you tightly enough to make you wince. She had been your roommate in college; she probably knew you as well as Sana did – maybe even better. She had introduced you to Jimin and the three of you had been inseparable throughout your college life.

Jimin had apparently been friends with one of your childhood friends, Kim Taehyung.

You were not so shocked to know he was now married, living next door to you with his wife, Nayeon. Sweet and charming, she hugged you like her husband.

“It’s almost like I already know you,” she explained to your unsure smile, “they talk about you so much.”

“Ugh, I’m already worried.” You cringed.

“They were all nice things don’t worry. We had to put down a couple old gossips down here and there, though.” Jimin came to defend his friend.

You glanced at them curiously.

“Oh yeah, it was just old gossipy hags around the town, don’t worry about it. People moved on from you pretty soon to a Miss Mina. She’s a spinster, which apparently is a sin.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “She lives a few houses from us.”

“Also, I think your mom told that friend of hers, Dahyun to stop people gossiping about you. They were task-forcing the town. It was fun to watch.” Jimin added.

A sudden wave of affection for your mother rose up in you, before being quelled by the reminder that she must have done it to protect her own image.

You shrugged then, picking up a glass from one of the trays to take a sip of your mother’s homemade cocktail – fruity and simple on your tongue.

“Enough about me, what about you all?” you pointed at Tae and Nayeon, “Married with a house,” your finger moved to Jimin, “Sports coach,” then Jihyo, “Choreographer,” you stopped.

“What about the others, any news?”

“Not really, we are the ones who still live here you know. Plus, no offense to your mom, but I doubt folks would leave their city jobs to come to her parties.” Jihyo muttered; exchanging a glance of solidarity with you before her eyes widened suddenly.

“What?” you asked.

Her eyes quickly went to her brother, Jimin’s eyes a little more slow on the uptake but they widened too…before repeating the process – albeit comically – with Taehyung.

“What is wrong with you all?” You asked again.

“Um, ____, did Sana tell you -?”

Jimin paused nervously, refusing to look at you as he fiddled with the rim of his glass.

“Tell me what?”

He looked helplessly at his sister. Jihyo hesitated before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Listen, ____, while you were gone” -

She broke off, her eyes darting over your shoulder and stuttering to a stop.

In that moment of her silence, the conversation behind you was clearer.

Or rather, one particular voice was…

Low and deep – soft morning grumbles came back to you – muffled conversations from behind you made you turn around.

It was a voice you would know anywhere. It was one that haunted your dreams, one that crested the ache in your heart on particularly bad days…

It was one you would know beyond a void.

Min Yoongi stood directly across from you, in your home, undoing his coat and removing his scarf, conversing lowly with your sister.

Something she quickly muttered to him had him freezing, long nimble fingers stopping in the unknotting of his scarf.

And then as if he could feel your gaze, could feel your presence, the reason why you left everything behind looked straight up at you, eyes locking across a room…just like the day you had first seen him.

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #yoongi #bts #bts suga #suga #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #bangtan

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justmypartner · 3 years

Text

Make it Work: Chapter 4

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another.

Writer’s Note: This is a monster of a chapter. I honestly could have split it into two separate chapters, but I felt like the flow of the story went better having it all be in one. If you watch FBI or have at least seen Hailey’s episode, there’s a familiar character in this chapter ;) as well as some newbies. Reach out if you would like to be added to the taglist for future chapters! As always, thank you for following my stories and for all of the kind words!

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias

Read on AO3 or below

Jay’s first night in the city wasn’t pleasant. Both he and Hailey hired moving services to ship their things from Chicago to New York prior to their move. Because of this, they spent their last few days in Chicago living out of duffle bags and travel toiletries in hotel rooms. The hope was that by the time they arrived in New York, unpacking was the only thing they’d have to worry about. However, when Jay walked into his apartment for the first time, only half of his things were waiting for him. He tried contacting the moving company, but being that it was so late, all he got was an automated message. Wherever the rest of his things were, his mattress, couch, and any sort of seating he had were all with it. This left him sleeping on the floor, using whatever he could find in the mess of boxes filling the apartment to build a makeshift bed. It was something he had done plenty of times before, especially while he was stationed overseas. However, as proven the next morning, his body just wasn’t cut out for it like it used to be. He was sore all over, making the rest of the day miserable.

The first thing he did was reach out to the moving company. He found out that of the two trucks that were carrying his things, one of them had gotten delayed somewhere in Pennsylvania. That particular truck just so happened to be the one carrying his mattress, bed frame, and couch. He figured in the meantime, he would unpack the things he had. However, he found it increasingly difficult to maneuver around due to the ache mainly centered around his back.

After a few hours of progress, he decided to take a break, leaning his back against the wall and sliding his body down until he was in a sitting position on the floor. He hadn’t had a chance to get groceries of any sort, so he was hungry and in desperate need for painkillers, but he couldn’t find it in himself to leave that spot on the floor, let alone his apartment. He threw his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as his face scrunched up from pain. He was about to pick up his phone and text Hailey when there was a knock at the door. He stood with a groan, holding at the lower part of his back as the motion sent a sting of pain up his body.

When he opened the door, Hailey was standing there with a 6 pack of beer and a cheerful smile on her face. The smile faded as she realized he was clenching his back in pain.

“What happened to you?” She asked, her brows furrowing as she looked him up and down.

“Nice to see you too,” he said, moving out of the way to let her in. She stepped inside, making her way to his kitchen counter to place the beers down.

“Yeah, hi or whatever… What happened to you?” She asked again, looking at him with a puzzled look.

“Stupid moving truck carrying the other half of my stuff got delayed, so I was left sleeping on the floor. I do not recommend that by the way,” he said, grabbing one of the beers and making his way to sit back on the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve just spent the night with me,” she said. Her eyes immediately widened and Jay sent her a raised brow, a confused smile on his face as she said it. He noticed her turn red and he rubbed at his mouth and chin to conceal a smile escaping across his face.

“Ah I mean, you know you could have slept at my place on the couch,” she stammered over her words as she turned to look around his apartment, avoiding eye contact with him completely.

“It was like 3am. I didn’t want to bother you and I was too tired to even consider that. Thanks though,” he told her taking a swig of the beer. “Thanks for these too by the way,” he said, raising the beer in the air.

“Yeah of course. So when’s your stuff supposed to be here?” She questioned, playing with a small Chicago Bears figurine he had rested on a shelf.

“They said sometime this afternoon. Really hoping they’re right because I don’t think my body can take another night on the floor,” he told her, his eyes following her as she moved about the room.

“Yeah, you better watch it. Might not be able to get back up next time, old man,” she told him with a smirk, grabbing a beer from the counter and coming to sit crossed legged across from him on the floor. He wiped the condensation from his bottle and flung the water droplets at her, causing her to flinch.

“Hey!” She called out, guarding her face with her hands.

“Call me old again,” he challenged with a grin. She held her hands up in surrender and he retreated.

“So I like your place. How are you liking New York so far?” She asked him, placing one hand behind her and leaning back on it as she brought the bottle to her lips.

“Well considering I’ve only seen the inside of this apartment, I feel like I can’t answer that. How about you? How’s your apartment coming along?”

“Really good actually. Most of the major stuff has been arranged, now I just have to unpack all of the tedious things - dishes, silverware, knick knacks, all that,” she told him. He nodded as he adjusted his position against the wall. She sent him a concerned look when she saw him flinch and grasp at his back.

“Can I get you anything? We could stop by the store and get you some medicine then we could go back to my place. You could check it out, we could order some food, you could actually have a comfortable place to sit too,” she offered him.

“You had me at get you some medicine,” he beamed. She chuckled and stood, extending a hand towards him to help him up. Being that he was much heavier than her, she really had to pull to help him up. When he was finally on his feet, he was only inches away from her, their hands remaining together for longer than they should’ve. He could feel his heart picking up rhythm in his chest by her touch, so he quickly released his hand, bringing it to the back of his neck before chugging the rest of his beer and tossing it in the trash bin by the counter.

After picking up painkillers and dinner, the two made their way to Hailey’s apartment. Following Hailey into the apartment, Jay’s eyes studied the space, noting how accurately it represented her personality. It wasn’t completely put together yet. There were still boxes lying around sporadically across the floor, but for the most part it was simple and organized much like her. Hailey made her way to the living room where she set the food down on the coffee table before planting herself on the couch. Jay followed suit, falling onto the couch and letting himself sink into the cushions. Hailey popped open the bottle of aspirin they picked up at the store, offering him a bottle of water and 3 pills. As he took them, he realized how instinctively she was caring for him and how natural it felt to be in such a domestic setting with her. She pulled out his food, sitting it in front of him and snapping him out of his roaming thoughts.

“So, are you nervous about tomorrow?” She asked him, settling back into the couch as she took her fork out of the plastic wrapper. She was referring to it being their first day. Jay hadn’t confronted his feelings about it until that moment.

“I would tell you no, but we both know that would be a lie,” he admitted. She flashed him a knowing smile before continuing.

“What are you most worried about?”

“Nothing in particular, I just know it’s going to be a lot different than what I’m used to. Every fed I’ve ever worked with has been a pompous jackass, in it for the optics more than the actual people they’re trying to help. I know what we’ll be doing will be important, I guess my reservations come from a combination of not wanting to deal with that and not wanting to turn into that,” he told her, a solemn look overcoming his face. Her face formed into a frown and her stare fell to her plate as she seemed to silently think through her response.

“You know my first day, I walked into that building already carrying this sort of forced regard for the place. I had those same reservations you carry for the feds, but I respected what they did so I forced myself to walk into it all with a sort of blind respect. My first interaction with OA wasn’t so great. He made some backhanded comment and you know me, I don’t take stuff like that, so I threw it back at him. Made him realize I saw through what he was really trying to say. The more time I was there, I realized that even though they don’t all go about it the best way, everyone is there to do their part and take the bad guys off the street. While that type of mentality you described certainly exists among many of the people we’ll work with, I think the perspective we can bring will have a similar impact as what went down with OA that day. We put ‘em in check and they sort the rest out themselves. You’re a good cop, and that’s just what these units need. So whatever fears you have, I wouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on them because you’re going to be great,” she told him, smiling briefly before immediately diving back into her food.

Her words reassured him. He still felt some apprehension about the next day, but she leveled him enough to instill a bout of confidence he hadn’t previously carried. After finishing their dinner, Jay relished in the comfort of the couch and the relief brought on by the painkillers. Hailey had put a tv show on in the background, but Jay was watching it absentmindedly. He noticed his eyes get heavier and heavier, and when exhaustion eventually caught up to him, he fell asleep. He was woken up with a light shake from Hailey. His eyes blinked open and he took in the sight of her slightly hovered over him.

“Hi,” she said as he fully opened his eyes and pushed himself into a straighter sitting position.

“How long have I been out?” He asked her, rubbing at his eyes and stirring about in a blanket he didn’t remember having before. He realized Hailey must have put it on him while he was sleeping and he stifled a smile as he awaited her answer.

“About an hour. Your phone was ringing and I picked it up. I hope you don’t mind,” she told him, holding the phone out to him. He took it from her, squinting his eyes at the brightness of the screen.

“No, it’s fine. Who was it?” He asked, looking at a number he didn’t recognize and looking back at her for her response.

“It was the movers, they said they’re coming in about an hour,” she told him, standing to clear their empty take out containers from the table. He looked down at the time and threw the blanket off his body gently before folding it into a more manageable size. He then picked up what was left on the table and brought it into the kitchen to help her clean up.

“I guess I better get going,” he told her, looking for his coat.

“Okay, yeah. Here’s the painkillers. You may need them again later,” she told him, handing him the bottle from before.

“Thanks for taking care of me today,” he told her, tilting his head slightly as he sent her a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” she shook her head with a grin. “See you tomorrow?”

“You know it,” he told her, opening the door to leave. Just as she went to close it behind him, he pushed it back open slightly. “Also, thank you for what you said earlier. It helped a lot.”

She returned his words with a slight nod before he turned to make his way to the elevator. The rest of the night he felt like there was an oddly natural shift in their relationship. The way she cared for him and reassured him seemed so much more than their usual platonic dynamic. It was like they crossed some sort of line without making a thing of it, and it made his heart rush just thinking about it. Though, he decided to not think about it. Instead, he tried to focus on the change they were set to endure that next day.

- - - -

Jay woke the next morning in the comfort and familiarity of his bed. The night before, the movers brought the last of his things into his place, and he felt relieved to not have to sleep on the floor once again. After taking a shower, he stood in his bedroom in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, staring down at the suit he had laid out for the day. It was a tangible symbol of his new life, and it made him nervous. He only ever had to wear a suit for two things: funerals and court, and those never came with good memories. He finally psyched himself up enough to put it on, looking in the mirror as he adjusted the tie around his neck. He took a breath, briefly staring back at his own reflection in the mirror before moving to his bedroom and pulling his gun from a safe in the closet. He secured it in the holster on his belt before pulling on his jacket, buttoning the top two buttons to conceal it from view.

He met Hailey outside of the building. They first had to get their photos taken for their identification and badges before making their way up to the new unit. He immediately recognized how nice everything was, even just the equipment they used to make their IDs was far more advanced than anything he’d ever seen. As soon as they handed the badge to him and he placed it on his hip, everything settled in. This was his new life. His new job. The nerves kicked in as they made their way up to their floor. He fidgeted in the elevator, pulling at the sleeves of his coat and adjusting his tie every few seconds. Hailey clocked his jumpiness from the corner of her eye.

“Dude, you need to relax,” she told him with a chuckle, placing a hand briefly on his shoulder.

“I know, I know,” he all but whispered.

He was feeling very out of his element. First days can be nerve wrecking in general, but this seemed new and unfamiliar to him. His transition from Organized Crime to Intelligence felt natural. There was a comfort about the ruggedness of Intelligence that put him at ease on his first day; it made him feel like he fit in. This though? Suits, million dollar tech, fancy buildings, it all seemed so far out of his league and he was having trouble calming his nerves.

There was a brief silence before he blurted out, “I just really hate suits,” he admitted, putting his energy into the discomfort he was feeling about the attire.

“Eh, I do too, but you get used to it. Just, relax though. You’re going to be great, they’re going to be great. It’ll be fine… You look great by the way,” she reassured him with her dimpled grin. He flashed an unconvincing smile at her and took a deep breath just as the elevator doors opened.

Organized chaos is how he would have described the room before him. Everyone in the room was busily distracted by something. It seemed to be a meticulous operation, but it was a much larger scale than what he was used to in Intelligence.

“Hailey Upton!” An excited voice called out as they exited the elevator.

“OA? The hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be a few floors down?” She asked as Jay watched a stranger grab her in a hug. He was tall, so tall in fact that he made Hailey look miniature.

“Yeah, I heard you started today so I thought I’d come say hello,” he said as his eyes met Jay’s over Hailey’s shoulder. As they pulled away from the embrace, Hailey turned to gesture towards an awkward smiling Jay.

“OA, I’d like to introduce you to my partner, Jay.”

“So you’re the illustrious Jay. Hailey told me a lot about you, specifically that you were a Ranger. I was a Captain, two tours in Iraq,” OA said, reaching a hand out to shake Jay’s.

“No way, I did two in Afghanistan. 75th Regiment, 3rd Battalion,” he said, shaking his hand back firmly. “Hailey told me a lot about you as well by the way. Thanks for looking out for her all those weeks,” he continued.

“Yeah, well I think you got it backwards, it was her who was looking out for me,” he said sending a smile Hailey’s way.

“Yeah, he’s alright… for a fed,” she said with a shrug and a mischievous grin.

“What do you mean? You know you’re a fed now too, right?” he laughed back.

“Shhh don’t tell anyone,” she replied jokingly.

“Secret’s safe with me, but I have a feeling they’ll find out eventually,” he said waving a finger at the busy room around them. “Anyway, it was good seeing you Chicago, but I gotta head back to JOC. Catch ya later?” OA said backing away towards the elevator.

“Yeah, for sure,” she responded.

“Hey man, nice meeting you!” Jay called out.

“Yeah, you too!” OA replied as he climbed into the elevator.

Jay felt more at ease by the interaction. Seeing how comfortable Hailey was in this environment and how well she got on with OA lowered his nerves a bit. He figured if everyone with the bureau was like him, adjusting may be easier than he thought. He followed Hailey as she made her way over to a group of people gathered by a large screen. When they were close enough, Hailey cleared her throat catching the attention of them all, heads spinning around to look at the two of them.

“Detective… or should I say Special Agent Upton, great to see you again. Welcome,” one of them said, extending a hand out to shake hers.

“Agent Reynolds, likewise. This is Jay Halstead,” she said with a nod towards Jay.

“Jay Halstead, it’s nice to officially meet you, I’m Drake Reynolds, Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Welcome to the FBI,” he said, reaching his hand out to meet Jay’s. “Everyone on the team just calls me Drake by the way,” he said, darting his eyes back to Hailey to correct her.

“Nice to meet you as well, sir,” Jay replied.

“Right. Now, normally we’d do a more official welcome, you know get to meet everyone and everything, but we just had a really urgent case come in so I’m going to have you two jump right in if that’s okay,” Drake told them. They nodded as he made his way to the front of the room to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, everyone we caught a live one this morning. Subject is Eli Sarkova, Latvian national who has been on many federal agencies’ radars for a while now. Sarkova is said to run one of the major trafficking rings out of Eastern Europe with strong ties right here in New York. NYPD picked up one of his connections, Andris Ozola, last night. They called us and now he is sitting in our interrogation room where one of our agents was able to pull out intel that Sarkova is right here in Manhattan for the first time in months. Ozola didn’t have a direct location, but we do know where his driver is expected to be at 11 am today, so we’re sending a team to go pick him up. Driver’s name is Edgars Berlina, white male, 6’2”, 185 pounds, bald, with ironically, a tattoo of angel wings on his neck. Berlina and any crew he’s with are most definitely going to be armed and dangerous. Memorize his picture, he’s going to be in a public area so we need to play this one right,” Drake said as he addressed the whole room.

“Bennett and Burrows, I want you two riding with Halstead and Upton today. Show them the ropes and answer any questions they may have about the field,” he told two agents to his right. They nodded in agreement, flashing warm smiles to the partners before Drake left the four of them standing there.

“Agent Daisy Bennett,” the female agent said extending her hand out to each of them. “And this is Walker Burrows,” she said, gesturing to the male agent by her side. Jay picked up on a lingering look Agent Burrows gave Hailey as he shook her hand. He frowned at this slightly as Hailey introduced herself.

“Hailey Upton, good to meet you both.”

“Jay Halstead,” he said shortly, continuing a stern stare at the man in front of him whose gaze continued to remain on Hailey.

“Follow us to the garage. The gear is already in the car, so we can get suited up out there,” Daisy said, turning to walk down the hall to the elevators.

“So you’re both from Chicago. Detectives, right?” Walker questioned, pressing the button for the garage.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jay replied, carrying his gaze straight ahead of him. “I gotta say, it’s already a culture shock. I’m not used to having intel handed to us like this. Usually we’re digging for this stuff ourselves,” Jay admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’m sure as hell glad we don’t have to worry about that. We get to do the actual important stuff like actually taking down the targets,” Walker replied. Jay shot Hailey a cross look, one that she returned, but he decided to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to challenge the man already in the first 5 minutes of meeting him. Maybe it was because he was used to doing the intel work himself, but Jay saw the value in all of it. Hearing the man so easily disregard other positions in the unit already didn’t sit right with him, but he shook it off for the sake of starting off on the right foot.

When they arrived at the car, Daisy opened the tailgate, pulling out 2 containers of gear.

“I’m not sure how you guys rolled in Chicago, but we have these in-ear coms. They’re fully open channels so you can communicate with any and all of us at all times. Mic button falls near your collar, so keep that in mind,” she said, handing them each ear pieces to put in their ears. “Bureau issued vests. Level IIIA body armor. It’s supposed to protect you even up to point blank range, but will leave a pretty nasty bruise,” she told them as she handed them each a vest. As they took their jackets off to put them on, Hailey looked over at Jay with a cheeky grin.

“Just because it’s good armor, doesn’t mean you need to go testing it out, okay?” She joked as she pulled it over her head, securing the velcro straps on the sides.

“Ha Ha,” he mocked back at her.

“Get shot a lot do you?” Daisy asked as she pulled her hair up in a ponytail.

“Bullet magnet, this man,” Hailey joked, eliciting a laugh from each of them.

Walker drove them to the target location, Daisy riding in the front and Hailey and Jay in the back. Jay didn’t like not being in the front, in control of the car, but he went with it, recognizing it as a temporary thing until they got settled in. When they rolled up, they exited the car, concealing their badges, vests, and weapons as to not be identified as law enforcement before they could get eyes on the target.

“Looks like there’s two entrances to the park. I say you guys take the north end and we’ll take the south. If he’s anywhere-“ Jay began, taking point on tactics as he was so used to doing in Intelligence, but Daisy cut him off.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but you guys are supposed to be following our lead today. I think each of us need to be partnered with you both. So, Walker you go with Hailey to the south end. Jay, you and I will take the north,” she instructed. It made Jay slightly uneasy to be split from Hailey, but he went along with it, acknowledging his unfamiliar role that came from being the new guy. Hailey sent him a reassuring look, silently communicating that everything would be fine. He nodded before they all departed ways.

“Dean, Fisher, your teams in place?” Daisy asked the other team leaders through the coms.

They each confirmed as Jay walked side by side with her down the path in the park. They settled on a bench, giving them a view of the center and north entrance of the park.

“We’re in place, all clear on the north end,” Jay said into the coms, his eyes surveying his surroundings as he put an arm on the back of the bench.

They sat in the park for a while. Eventually, one of the other agents saw the target pull up. They were able to bring him in without any problems. He was alone when they brought him in, which they all found odd. He was also very silent throughout every interaction, something they took as years of keeping his mouth shut with his boss. When they got him in the interrogation room, Drake sent Jay and Hailey in together to get a read on their capabilities. While Hailey pulled the “we’re here to help you, but only if you talk” method, Jay took a more silent approach. He remained in the seat staring at the man as Hailey paced the floor of the interrogation room trying to convince him to talk. After 20 minutes of silence, Hailey sat down next to Jay, looking down at the table, her arms crossed as the man kept a cold stare at her.

“Tell me Berlina, why’d Sarkova send you into that park alone this morning?” Jay finally asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table. The man said nothing, shifting his stare from Hailey to Jay.

“I mean, you’re just his driver after all. Anybody can drive a car, you’re pretty replaceable. But still, you’d think years of working for the man would earn you something, right? Some sort of protection,” Still the man remained silent. Jay shrugged before continuing on. “I don’t know. He’s probably already got you replaced anyway. We found out some pretty interesting things about you from Interpol. A couple of outstanding warrants in Latvia… even a few in Estonia. You get around, don’t you? Anyway, your plane leaves this afternoon. Hopefully that gives you enough time to get out of here before Sarkova has a chance to tie up loose ends,” Jay finished, rising in his chair to exit the room. Hailey followed, and just as they were about to exit, the man called them back.

He ended up giving them the location of a brownstone in a wealthier neighborhood. They set out with the FBI tactical team, expecting heavy arms and numerous bodyguards according to what Berlina gave them. They had planned to infiltrate late in the night to provide themselves with an extra element of surprise. This was the one part of the job that Jay felt sure about. As he geared up, he felt pumped up for the first time that day. Knowing that his interrogation gave them the location added a little motivation as well. Still partnered with Daisy, she and Jay followed after the two tact team guys upon breaching the front door. Walker and Hailey were behind them, making their way to the other side of the house upon entry. One of the tact team guys came in contact with an offender first, convincing him to stand down and taking his weapon before cuffing him. Jay and Daisy continued into the house, sweeping each room one by one. They came into contact with a second offender, and they were able to convince him to stand down as well. Next thing they knew, there was a ruckus on the other side of the house, so they swiftly picked up their pace, making their way in that direction. There was a gunshot and panic overcame Jay as he realized it was in the part of the house Hailey was clearing.

“Hailey!” He called out. No response. He called her name once more before entering a large room. He caught sight of her blonde hair on the ground. His heart dropped, but she turned over as he got closer, clutching at her jaw. Walker was behind her, standing over Sarkova who was face down on the ground.

“Hailey! What the hell happened, are you okay?” Jay questioned, making his way over to her and instinctively grabbing at her chin to get a better look at the red mark on her jaw.

“Guy was hiding behind the door when I walked in. He tried to grab at my gun and forced me to fire a round into the wall. He also got me nice in the jaw before I could react,” she told him, stretching her jaw. Jay offered her a hand and she grabbed it to come to a standing position.

“She took the hell out of him though. Girl’s a badass,” Walker said, bringing Sarkova to his feet and guiding him to a tact guy by the door.

“Yeah, where the hell were you? Huh?” Jay asked, a slight snarky tone in his voice.

“Hey man, I was right behind her. I had her back,” Walker said back, closing the distance between him and Jay. Jay didn’t take well to people getting in his face. Hailey noticed this and stood between them, lightly pushing them apart.

“Woah, okay boys. We’re all good here,” she said, her eyes looking between the two of them.

Jay backed off, looking down at her with a worried look.

“Are you okay?” he asked her quietly, dropping his voice to a sincere tone.

“I’m good,” she nodded, patting him slightly on the chest.

“I should’ve had your back,” he said, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Jay, I’m fine. Relax, would you?” she told him, a slight frustration in her voice.

Jay didn’t like that she had gotten hurt and he wasn’t there to protect her. It wasn’t that she was hurt badly, but he didn’t like the idea of someone else, basically a stranger, being the one to watch her back in such a high risk situation. His opinion of Walker wasn’t all that great after his comment that morning, and it certainly wasn’t improving now that she had gotten hurt under his watch. One thing he was sure of was that he was glad their separation was only a temporary thing.

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic

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em-dashes · 3 years

Text

8.21.2021 - Chapter 2

Word Count

> Chapter 2: 6081

> Total: 7665

Hello! What’s this, a new banner? :0

As I write my third draft for APHELION, I thought I’d make an update for every chapter I finish! I’m someone who likes to look back on old posts and see how far I’ve come, so I think future-me would like it if I documented my process.

For me (in this case at least) the first draft is to get all my ideas down on paper, the second draft is to knock all the story beats into place, and the third draft is the fine-tune edit. This is where I incorporate all the notes I left on my second draft and make sure everything flows.

So far, my editing process has been:

> Retype everything, reading it out loud as I do (actually, reading it very quietly, but same difference). I find retyping as opposed to editing the pre-existing text better encourages me to make changes to the wording and structure and helps me catch awkward phrasing.

> AND THEN, after I feel satisfied with the chapter, I go back and read everything out loud (or very quietly) again, seeing if I can catch anymore things that sound weird.

Chapter 2 is specifically a chapter I struggled with every since I started draft 2. It always felt too long, too exposition-y, just dragging on. It took me until very recently to figure out what exactly needed to be condensed, and what needed to go. And that leads to the next segment:

What’s Different?

Chapter Summary: Cay and Ev go out on a scavenging trip, just barely escape a horde of wild hungry animals (called prowlers), and Cay meets Shelby for the first time (it’s not a good encounter :| )

Added:

> Generally upped Cay’s fear and emotions (making it clear he’s someone who self-blames a lot)

> A scene where Cay and Ev come across the wreckage from the first chapter (which you can read here). This replaces a scene where Cay’s aepid falls out of the sky and lands Right Where Shelby happens to be, which was always too dependent on coincidence for my liking. The new scene is also more lighthearted, giving Ev and Cay more time to banter around before Shit Goes Down.

Changed:

> The way Cay and Ev escape from the prowlers. They still escape via rooftop, but now I’ve removed a whole part about a mall and escalators and just had them stay within the supermarket they were scavenging in.

> Way, WAY shortened Cay’s encounter with Shelby. Originally they have a back and forth and have like, this thing where they have to fight their way out of another horde of prowlers together despite their initial animosity, but now Shelby just wham bam slams Cay in the head and gets the heck outta there. No time for small talk!! Cay is now alone to fight the prowlers :^( I don’t know the exact numbers, but I think this shortened the chapter by a few hundred words.

I already posted an excerpt from this chapter a few days ago, so that’s it on the update for now!

-Emily

#em dashes #writeblr #aphelion #writing update #i'm about to head out so taglist reblog later #am editing aphelion

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normal-person-wannabe · 3 years

Text

Talk less, smile more (LMM/Reader)

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hey friends, i finally found the time to write this second chapter. Hope you like it. Oh, and if you want to be added in the taglist for the following chapter you only have to ask. See you soon. Stay safe. Word count: 1093 tw: swearing, mentions of sex

Your apartment's door slammed shut and you flew down the stairs like you were being chased by that one old uncle -who's not your real uncle- that every Christmas asks you if you're still single and makes unpleasant remarks about how if he were younger he'd "show you" how beautiful you are.

But risking a couple of broken bones was worth it: you did not want to be slapped by your sister, although you must admit, she knows how to make you fall into line and save yourself -and others- from your horrible time management skills. Sometimes she can scare the crap out of you, even though you know she does it for your own good.

You walk through your building gate at 6:55, thank goodness. No sign of that yellow tuna can of hers that somehow manages to resemble a vehicle. You start playing the game that you always play when you are waiting for someone: "guess the story of this bystander's life".

Like, look at that guy over there. He has a briefcase in his left hand and his phone in the right. He's walking slowly, his head lowered as if he was eaten up by guilt or shame.

Oh, he must've fucked up real hard. It could be a work thing.

Or -wait- maybe it's something more interesting, like he lost a lot of money at a casino in Vegas, perhaps even cheated on his wife with the dealer, or-

Stop, just stop. Your brain is going too fast. You're not a 3-year-old on Adderall, you're an adult, responsible, and -Oh my God!!

What if he has murdered someone and now he's regretting it!

Nope, not ok y/n, not okay. You'll behave yourself, because you're not nervous, you're not afraid that this "thing" you have with him will go south just before it really has started and you will end up hurt and shattered into tiny little pieces because you believed in it, and you poured your soul into it only to be disappointed by the harsh reality: you are not worthy of love. You're chaos. You have no chill whatsoever. For you, it's all or nothing, and-

6.58. That's weird, she's not at least three minutes early. You were starting to worry when there it was, her yellow little tuna can.

«What the hell...» you muttered, causing a puff of condensed air to pirouette out of your mouth. Three pairs of hands waved frantically at you from within the vehicle.

«Oh no, the whole gang is here...»

«Change of plans» Your sister screamed as she got out of the car «Come in for a hug, sweetheart, I missed you!»

«I missed you too,» you replied in a whisper, almost choked by the tightness of her embrace.

«Hop in, hun,» She said «we -and by we I mean me, you, Kate, and Liz- have plenty to talk about»

«We sure do» you sighed. The prospect of three women interrogating you like they were the freaking FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit was not a good one. You'd rather spend a peaceful evening alone with your sister and a plate of linguine allo scoglio but there's no going back now.

«Are you ready to order, mie care signore?» the waiter asked, with a big smile and a slight wink.

«Yes, we are,» your sister answered in a cheerful tone «And how are your wife and baby, Andrea? I hear he's got his mother’s beautiful green eyes.»

«Oh, he's a very well-behaved baby, if you don't take into account the part in which he doesn't let me and my wife sleep more than an hour a night. But anyway, what can I get started for you lot this evening?»

«For me a pizza caprise?» Liz replied hastily. Liz had to be always the first one to do anything, which is why she had "mommy issues" and written all over her face.

«Capreese? Sorry, I’ve not yet figured out how to pronounce it»

«It's actually Caprese, which means from Capri, ma’am. That’s also where my mother was born.» he said, with a glimpse of pride in his eyes.

«Oh, that makes sense. So a pizza Caprese and a medium brown ale.» said Liz

«A pizza Caprese and a medium brown ale for the lady» he repeated while scribbling on his notepad.

«I'll take the seafood linguine and a white wine of your choice. I trust your judgment» intervened Kate in an almost less than a whisper. She's the cutie and the shy one of the group. And the one men usually prefer since she has the face and the voice of a Cherub come straight from heaven.

«I’ll take the ravioli burro e salvia. And can we have a jug of water so we can share it?» my sister added. «Oh and bring also a hot hot tea, 'cause she has to spill some!»

It was a "wink wink nudge nudge" situation. You felt their eyes on you and their laughter, but your mind was oh-so elsewhere.

«And for you, Antonio's favorite, who’s always daydreaming and never pays attention to me? The usual?»

Kate gave you a first nudge in between your ribs, but you were far, far away, back to when your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just give up, and his cock was filling you up so completely you forgot that a world existed outside of the heaving mess you were. You'll never forget those moments of beatitude, nor the raspy groans and luscious whispers that into your ears and onto your skin felt like velvet and honey. Kate gave you another nudge, this time so hard your head bolted upwards. You looked like you were caught with your hands in a cookie jar. Your cheeks were a bright red. And you were insanely hot. And a tad bit wet.

«Hey, yes, sorry, I was... yes I’ll take the pizza fantasia, so Antonio can surprise me.»

You always ordered that, and Antonio even said to you that you’re his inspiration for new pizza flavors. He also bought a little notebook with your name on it, in which to keep track of all the pizzas he made, so as not to make you the same pizza twice. He’s been so kind to you you couldn't not invite him to your graduation. He looked even more proud of you than your actual parents were that day. You loved the man.

«Sure, he'll be pleased you came back, he was starting to worry you would go to that new place across the street»

«Oh, I could never. He's like family to me. To us. You all are.»

«Thanks, ma'am, I'll be back in a sec with your complimentary antipasti della casa, and your drinks.» You thanked him and smiled sheepishly. You knew what was coming next and you braced yourself for the pack of wolves in front of you that now has shifted its focus from the waiter to you, ready to jump right at you and bite your ass.

«So» They all exclaimed almost in unison.

«So» You replied, biting your bottom lip.

#lin manuel miranda #lintrash #linsin #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin miranda #lin #miranda #hamilton x reader #hamilton fic #lin manuel miranda/reader #lin manuel miranda fanfic #lin/reader #lin manuel x reader #lin x reader

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dawnwave16 · 4 years

Text

Crash and Burn!

Marinette was over it. In the 3 months that had passed since HawkMoth's defeat. Lila's lies had grown from name dropping lies to ones that would destroy reputations in seconds if they ever came out. Adrien had seen the light when she had lied about his mother but the rest of the class still fell for everything that tumbled out of her mouth.

Due to being Ladybug, Marinette was one of the few that knew HawkMoths identity and it had unfortunately soured her dream of becoming a fashion designer. Not that that had been a bad thing as far as Marinette was concerned. Going into fashion design full time was something that Mlle Bustier had pretty much pushed her into when Marinette had made the mistake of doodling in class. Marinette's original dream had been to be able to fly F-14 Tomcat's just like her birth father. Everybody thought that Tom Dupain was her birth father but that wasn't true. Her mother had met Tom when Marinette had been four and the two had hit it off immediately. Harm had been please for Sabine, even letting her change Marinette's surname in the school records to make things easier for Sabine on parent-teacher evenings. His only condition had been that Sabine let Marinette visit him every other Christmas and on some school holidays. It was because of these visits that Marinette had started to dream of following her father into the air as soon as she was old enough. On the visit, shortly before her eleventh birthday, she had been visiting him and he'd had to go to one of the aircraft carriers for work. She couldn't remember all the hoops that had had to be jumped through to allow her to go with him but she did remember how it had ended. It had been her first time on an F-14 after all. It was a night flight and her father had insisted that the easiest way to prove that the pilots were innocent was to fly with them. He was so sure that there was nothing to worry about that he had put her into the second seat in the cockpit of the second jet. He had told her how they were flown and how to land them and she was eager to see everything from the back seat. Nobody had counted on the fact that someone had tampered with the front piolets air hoses, adding a knock out gas to them on a time-release that had only been found after they had landed. Or more accurately, after she and her father had had to take control and land the jets. It had been as scary as it was thrilling for the ten-year-old and she had vowed that she wanted to do it again. But only when she was older. It was due to this dream that Marinette had put so much effort into all her studies. Everyone thought it was just so that nobody could criticise her grades when she made it big but it was so that when she eventually graduated she could enlist in the US airforce and study law as well as how to be a piolet so that she could be just like her father. When Mlle Bustier had pushed and pushed and pushed her into fashion Marinette had let it happen and even believed that it was the right thing to do. However, she hadn't stopped the way she studied and now that her real dream was back at the forefront of her mind, she was glad that she hadn't let her study habits drop. It was as Marinette was reminiscing about all of this that Lila had started a new story. One about what it was like on an aircraft carrier, which Lila had only been on because she had been kidnapped and the captain of the carrier had saved her. She was so into her story and Marinette was so lost in her daydream that neither girl noticed the very handsome man dressed in Navy Dress Uniform standing in the doorway with a woman standing in a US Marine Dress uniform. It was only when he spoke that Marinette snapped back to the present. “There is no Navy in the world that would let a civilian walk around one of its aircraft carriers the way you are describing. It would be a serious breach of security and the captain could be court marshalled for letting it happen.” “Not to mention the only civilian to step on an aircraft carrier was a ten-year-old and her father had to jump through several bureaucratic hoops in order to let her go on board with him for the week that he was on board.” The woman added. Everyone in the class spun round to face the two of them, tensing up, except Marinette who had relaxed for the first time in ages. Her father and his wife were here and as today was the last day of school, that meant that she would be flying out to the US soon to take the first step towards her dream. Unfortunately, it seemed there would be drama from Lila first though. “Show how much you know. I'm the daughter of an Italian diplomat-” “Layla Nekane Rossi, age eighteen, born in Basque and daughter to the private secretary to the current Italian Diplomate. Father is a known con man and womaniser. You speak Italian and French although you have lived in three countries. Expelled from school in both Basque and Italy for bullying, both emotional and cyber, accused but never charged on three occasions of bullying to the point of suicide and one case of assault. Do I need to carry on?” Mac's voice was cold and hard as she spoke giving a condensed version of Lila's file. Mlle Bustier had blanched as Mac spoke and had had to sit down by the end of it. Lila was about to say something to defend herself but Harm spoke up first. “Unfortunately you finally chose the wrong person to bully. They might not have been making a fuss recently as they have finally realised that the ones she was trying to protect don't deserve it but that doesn't mean she didn't go looking for justice for your previous victims. To add to the charges from the other countries, you will be facing charges of terrorism along with one Chloé Bourgeois. As you are old enough to be tried in court as an adult, that is exactly what will be happening.” “What! That is ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Why am I getting charged with anything?” Chloé screeched. “You'll find out when you get to court. In the meantime, I suggest you both find a decent lawyer.” Mac said dryly. “Who are you two anyway?” Alya demanded even though she was still reeling from everything that had come out about Lila. “Lieutenant Colonel Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie, USMC and Captain Harmon ''Harm'' Rabb Jr Executive officer (XO), USS Allegiance.” The class spun round to face Marinette as she spoke. “Marinette, you know them?” Adrien asked his face a mask of confusion. “Why wouldn't I know my birth father and someone he is in an on-again-off-again relationship with? By the way, it's great to see you both again but I thought you were only meant to be coming to France in three weeks time?” Marinette's voice was just as dry as Mac's had been and the class realised that Marinette had spent a lot of time around them in order to have picked up that sort of habit. “Marinette why would they need to fetch you. You're 18, surely you are capable of travelling by yourself. Besides didn't you get invited to study at ESMOD? Or are you just travelling for a month before your new classes start?” Mlle Bustier's voice was calm but Marinette could hear the manipulative quality in it. She sighed and turned to face her old teacher. “One, I never applied to ESMOD, so I have no idea why you think they would have invited me to study there. I let you think that I wanted to be a fashion designer because that is what you were constantly telling me I should be. Yes, I like fashion but that's not what I want to do with my life, it never has been. Two, Yes I am capable of travelling by myself but why would I turn down the chance to spend time with my family. Hawkmoth and Dad's duty has kept him away for the last four years and I have missed him terribly! Skype and phone calls just aren't the same as being able to cuddle into him while watching movies. And three, if you truly want to know what I will be doing with the rest of my life I'll tell you. I plan to follow in Dad's footsteps in be a naval aviator for the US Marines and study to be a JAG. I want to fly for as long as I can though!” Harm smiled proudly as his daughter spoke then exchanged a look with Mac when their influence on her personality shone through. “Where's my hug, munchkin?” Harm said with a smirk. Marinette walked over to him and gave him a big hug her eyes squeezed closed as she soaked in her dad's reassuring presence. To Marinette, this was the best medicine she could ever have asked for. Not only was her dad here but he had exposed Lila or Layla as was her real name, in a way that couldn't be fought. He had provided hard evidence for every fact he had provided. Mlle Bustier, however, didn't seem to get the memo that Marinette was done with being manipulated by her. “Marinette are you sure about that? I mean don't you have commissions from several big-name celebrities that you get regularly?” Marinette forced herself not to growl at Mlle Bustier, not knowing that Adrien's father had walked up and was waiting at the door, listening to the answer too as Mr Agreste was still wanting to offer her an internship. “Designing was never my end-game career choice. If I wash out of basics or am injured in a way that the navy or JAG is not an option, then I will think about doing design full time. Those that have commissioned me for things know that it will never be my full-time job and that I want to serve like my dad does. They support that decision and encourage me to do my best!” Adrien walked over to her and gave her a hug, as she had stepped out of her father's arms as she spoke to Mlle Bustier. Like everyone else, he hadn't seen his father arrive but he decided to give one last parting shot to the class before he left too. “Only one person has ever asked me what I want to do with my life. When I said I didn't know she encouraged me to follow my heart. Unfortunately for almost everyone here, she has my heart. The conversation

took place three years ago so this is not a rash decision despite what most of you think. I'm leaving to follow Mari into the Navy. I have my green card etc and everything has already been legally approved, so you can't use that against me. Also, yes I do know that we probably won't be in the same unit but this is something I want to do for myself.” As soon as Adrien had finished talking the group of four walked away with the teens between the two adults, the four of them chatting away happily in English which left most of the class confused. Neither of the teens noticed Mr Agreste standing in the corridor, leaning against the wall clutching his heart as though in pain. They didn't notice the ambulance as it pulled up to fetch Mr Agreste, nor did they notice as police cars arrived to fetch Chloe and Layla. They didn't see the class trying to make sense of the mess that had been left behind them and to be honest, they didn't care. As far as Adrien and Marinette were concerned, they were free to live their lives. They had been friends for years and they became better ones when they had revealed their identities to each other after Miracle Queen. They were partners and they would face the future the way they had faced everything else: together.

@ash-amg-blog

#salt #lila salt #ms bustier salt #class salt #adrien sugar #au bio dad for marinette #marinette deserves better #badass marinette #non-designer marinette

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Safe in the Dark

Just the tiniest of drabbles because the image was in my mind.

CW: Trauma response, references to institutional violence, scarring, guilt/self-loathing thoughts, not much here to warn for but if you see something that needs tagged that I didn’t mention let me know

Tagging Chris’s crew: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly , @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions and @oofowouchies and @orphceus for Antoni (it wouldn’t let me tag your other blog but you requested to be added!)

Takes place simultaneously to the Safehouse Raid, so you’ll want to read the first piece of that series to have context for this

The darkness around them is total, with a soft weight like velvet against Antoni’s skin, pressing from all sides, as he and Leila make their way with bare feet moving soundless against the slightly damp stone.

Who made this tunnel, nobody seems to know, exactly. Nat told them it was here when she bought the house, used to be used to people in the 70′s to do the same thing that Antoni and Leila are doing now.

How many people have crept through this space, holding hands like he and Leila are, gripped tight with cold fingers and clammy palms, unwilling to let go? How many? A handful? Two dozen? A hundred?

The silence is so deep that their breathing seems to echo off the walls. Even adjusted to the dark he can’t see Leila, only feel her leading the way. She is the one who keeps them moving, because Antoni would go back, if she let go. So she never lets him go.

“Chris is still back there,” He whispers, and the sound is like a shout muffled, a cry swallowed by the stone.

There’s a dripping sound, somewhere, ahead or behind he can’t tell. Water condensing in the coolness and running down to the ground. He can feel the damp under his feet as he walks, slippery. Never run in the tunnel, Nat told them when they did their safety drills. Walk quickly, but don’t run.

“I know,” Leila replies, and her voice is flat and featureless. He can’t see her but he knows, anyway, what he could see if there was any light - her short black hair chopped close to her chin, the pale of her skin, the way her eyes would be narrowed and her jaw set in her determined stubbornness. “He didn’t move fast enough.”

Antoni is silent, as they move like specters under the houses of Nat’s neighbors, under streets, a faint rumble of cars above their heads. This tunnel was here before the city came out this far and the houses and lives lived above them came after it.

What was there, in the time when they made this, to run from? Antoni doesn’t know. Maybe he never knew, or maybe it’s part of what he lost when they took his mind and wiped it clean, started over.

“They will hurt him,” Antoni tries again, and her hand only tightens its grip.

“I know,” She says again.

“He must be so frightened, Leila-”

“Antoni.” Her voice is sharp. It cuts through the velvet dark like the flash of light off a knife. “Stop it.”

Antoni feels his composure cracking, the sudden flare of a thousand burns under his clothes. One more sin he can’t atone for, one more betrayal he cannot fix, one more one more one more one more-

“I can’t just leave him there-”

Leila’s hand rips from his and just as suddenly her palms are pressed to either side of his face, pulling his head down close to hers, until their foreheads are touching. He still can’t see her, nothing but the faintest glimmer of her eyes. He wonders if they are as full of tears as his.

“If they take him, there’s nothing we can do,” Leila says, voice fierce and hoarse, thick with rage and grief. “If you were there, they’d take you, too, send you back, we’d lose you. Sometimes-...” She was quiet, and he could hear her breathing, harsh exhales, deep inhales. “Sometimes you lose people, Ant. That’s just how it is.”

“I-I... I can’t accept that. Not for him-... he’s so young, he needs us so much, and what he’ll... what he’ll be sent back to, Leila, you haven’t seen his nightmares-”

“I have nightmares, too! So do you! So do all of us!”

“Not... not like this, not like his, you do not hear what he says in his sleep-”

“Then fucking go back if you want to! Go on! Get caught and go back to your owner but I am never going back to mine! I don’t care who I lose, I don’t care who might have to get left!” Leila loses her careful control, her voice rises to a wail, bouncing back at them off the stone, and Antoni flinches away from the sudden volume.

“Leila-”

“We have to get to the bus stop. We have to. Nine will be waiting for us, Nat said, she promised. And Chris is a good hider, maybe he’ll... maybe he’ll be okay. Jake is there, right? Jake would-... would do anything for him.”

“If they take him back, Jake would not go with him, Leila, but if I were there I could... I could go, and we could be together until we were r-refurbished- I could help him know he would not be alone when they erase him-”

Her hand presses to his mouth, forces him to stop speaking, as she gasps in a breath. “Don’t ever say that, Ant, don’t you dare! He won’t get wiped!”

“You know they’ll wipe him, Leila! If they take us back, we get erased again!”

“It’s-... it’s a numbers game,” Leila whispers, repeating something they’ve all heard Nat saying before, murmuring to herself, a reminder every time there’s some news story about someone so happy to reclaim a stray pet, another safe place or shelter lost... “It’s a numbers game. One going back is better than two Maximize the good, minimize the bad. Now come the fuck on.”

She drops her hand and grabs him by the arm, dragging him forward with her down the tunnel, walking now with a determined speed and no attempt to stay silent.

“L-Leila-”

“Listen to me.” She doesn’t stop walking and her nails dig into his arm through his shirt, unknowingly pressing sharp edges into burn scars, lighting them up all over again. “I am going to get you to Nine. We are going to keep walking, here where we’re safe, and if Chris gets put back then I’m sorry, but I can’t help him now, I can only help you.”

“He’ll be so scared-”

“So are we! We’re scared, too!” She jerks his arm and Antoni stumbles forwards. There’s a hint of a slightly lighter enveloping black, maybe even a gray - they might be getting closer to the end of the tunnel, to where they can come up in a small city maintenance shed using a loose few boards in the floor and find the bus stop where Nine should already be idling in his car, waiting and waiting for them, hoping they moved faster than the men and women who pursue them.

“Without us-”

“Jake will hide him,” Leila says firmly. “He knows all the dark places, and Chris knows as well as any of us that he’s only safe in the dark.”

“What?”

She sighs. “Antoni, I don’t think they ever meant to, but... they taught us that the dark is the safest place for us. It's in the light that we die. It’s in the light they can take us and wipe us clean and rebuild. If Jake can get Chris into a dark place, he’ll know not to leave it.”

“And if he can’t? If he cannot get him to the dark places to hide?”

Another pause. It draws and draws and draws and now Antoni can definitely begin to see the outline of Leila ahead of him, the slightest hint of light at the end of the tunnel awaiting them. The air smells cleaner, fresher now. They’re getting closer.

He hasn’t heard anyone behind them. They haven’t found the secret door, or they don’t know what it is, or maybe... or maybe they’re just even quieter than the two rescues and someone will reach out and grab him at any moment, and he’ll hear a low soft voice with an English accent whisper in his ear, hello, love, aren’t you happy to see me?

“Then Chris goes back to the light,” Leila says, and her voice is hard. Uncaring, even as Antoni can hear the lie. “And we don’t. He’s gone and we’re not and that’s all there is to it.”

Nine is waiting for them in a nondescript beige-gray-nothing-color four-door at the bus stop, just like Nat promised. Leila slides into the front seat and Antoni collapses across the back, his chest a twisting mass of guilt that curls inside him, heavy as stone, weighing him down as he curls up on his side.

“I thought there would be three of you,” Nine says, glancing over his shoulder in the direction they’d come from. “Yoder said to expect three.”

“Only two,” Leila answers, crossing her arms across her chest and sitting back against the seat. “The other one didn’t make it.”

The other one.

“Already, we stop using his name?” Antoni closes his eyes against the rush of guilt and tears.

Chris is going to be gone, again, all the identity he’d built stolen, erased back to factory standards. And it will be Antoni who left him to the death that comes with going back to the white walls, white lights, white floor.

Nine clears his throat. “Are you... are you sure I shouldn’t wait a few more minutes, just in case-”

“Don’t wait.” Leila doesn’t look back at Antoni, and she doesn’t look back the way they came. Leila never looks back at all. “The third one isn’t coming. Just drive. Jake will do what he can.”

Antoni has never felt so small, so mean, so... worthless. “I-I could have-”

“No, you couldn’t. You’d just get thrown back in there, too. Better two saved than two refurbished.”

“I’m... I’m sorry,” Nine says softly as he pulls away. “I know what it means to lose someone.”

Do you, Antoni wonders. Do you even have fucking clue?

If Chris did make it into the tunnel, he’d only come out to nothing and no one waiting to help him, because... because Antoni is a coward.

Because Antoni ran and didn’t stay.

Because he saved himself and left someone else to suffer.

Again.

“I will go back tomorrow,” He whispers. “I am going. You cannot stop me.”

“He’ll be gone.” Leila keeps her eyes on the road ahead, but he can see the set of her jaw, the curve of it. Stubbornness, determination. Strength Antoni could never hope to possess. “You know he won’t be there. They’ll take him. You can go back if you want, but Chris won’t be there.”

“I do not care. I will go back for him, even-... even if there is no him to find.”

She snorts. “Have it your way.”

Then, a pause, and she says, a little more softly. “I’m... I’m sorry, Antoni. I know I’m... I know-... I could be softer, but-”

“Not everyone is made for soft,” Antoni murmurs, and though he can’t see her answering hint of a smile, he can feel it.

“If I think about it I’ll lose my fucking mind,” She says, softly. “I have to focus on who I can save, and not who I can’t. You know?”

He can understand. Even if he still feels like as much the monster as any of the ones who had been knocking the door off the hinges when he and Leila stopped waiting and ran.

Silence, other than the low hum of the radio, public news station reporting a story about some kind of law passed about taxes.

After the awkward, tense silence has dragged on and on and on, Nine clears his throat again.

“Hey, uh... what’s your name?”

“Antoni.” Coward. Piece of shit. Ashtray. Whatever you want it to be.

“Great. Yeah, okay. Uh... look. I’ll drive you back here tomorrow. You can take the tunnel back in to check and see if the, uh, the third one is in the house still. Okay?”

Antoni swallows and nods, curling into himself. His skin is on fire, he can feel every burn all at once, lit up like tiny suns digging deeper and deeper beneath the layers, searching for nerves and bone and muscle and vein to damage and destroy.

“"It’s not a problem.”

“But-”

“It’s not a problem,” Nine repeats, making a left, calming checking his mirrors, driving with absolute caution borne from a need to never ever have his fake ID checked. “You can go back and see if your guy is still there, yeah? Did you have to leave, like... your partner, your-.. your, uh... your bonded? Or-”

“He is not my bonded,” Antoni says, softly. “I will go back for him anyway.”

Please, if there is anything but hell left here on earth, let him still be Chris.

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astudyinfreewill · 4 years

Note

Could you maybe do something like Adam and Ronan hanging out with Blue and Gansey near the beginning of their relationship and Ronan marvelling at how he actually gets to hold Adam's hand now and it feels too good to be true 🥺

dear anon... i’m so sorry. this spiralled from the intended 500 words of cute hand holding to 2500 words of group dynamics. i have no excuse. hopefully there is still enough hand-holding to fit the bill 😅

since this got long-ish, you can also find it over at my AO3 if you prefer to read there!

and at every table, i’ll save you a seat

adam/ronan, fluff, 2.5k. takes place after the main events of trk but before the trk epilogue.

“I’m just saying, if he starts shit, I’m gonna walk out. I don’t need that drama in my life right now.” Ronan huffed, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into his leather jacket pockets. His breath condensed in the cold early December air. “Noted,” Adam replied, with the patient tone of someone who had heard the threat before and was not particularly concerned.

Ronan glowered - not at Adam or at anyone in particular, he just glowered. He did mean it. He couldn’t be fighting with Gansey right now, he just couldn’t.

Technically, they were already in a fight. This was new: historically, it was Adam and Ronan snarking at each other until one of them snapped, much to Gansey’s great exasperation; or Adam and Gansey waging cold war at each other until Ronan got tired of it and did something purposefully outrageous just so they’d get mad at him and forget whatever argument they were having. It usually wasn’t Ronan and Gansey. But then Ronan had dropped out of school.

The argument that had followed hadn’t been big and explosive, but rather drawn out into instalments: interrupted before things could get too bad and then picked up again at a different time, with Gansey pleading and needling and insisting graduation was mere months away. Ronan had endured a week of this before dealing with it the only way he could conceive of: by moving himself out of Monmouth and back into the Barns, which had been the plan anyway.

Adam had been a quiet bystander in this. He did not approve of Ronan dropping out, and it was clear in the tight line of his mouth when Ronan had told him. But he had always been good at picking his battles, and he had clearly decided not to fight Ronan’s for him. “Are you sure?” he had asked, looking at Ronan with narrowed blue eyes that, as usual, saw far too much. “Yeah,” Ronan had replied. In all honesty, he hadn’t exactly thought it through, because he could not think it through right now - but that was exactly why he was dropping out. He couldn’t be around people. He couldn’t be expected to function and show up and act like an engaged student and study for exams after– everything. So he said again, “Yeah.” And Adam had nodded, and that had been that.

Of course Gansey, correctly guessing that Adam would disapprove of anyone giving up on education, had tried to gain access to his – recently increased - leverage, but his efforts had fallen flat as far as Ronan could tell.

“But you must realise it’s a mistake”, he’d said on the only occasion Ronan had been witness to, one time when he’d arrived early to pick Adam up from work. “Don’t tell me you agree with him!”

“I don’t, but it’s his mistake to make,” Adam had replied, his annoyance clear even from Ronan’s sightless spot around the corner of Boyd’s main entrance. “Leave him alone, Gansey. Just because your friends want different things from you doesn’t mean they’re not your friends anymore.”

God, but Ronan loved him.

There had been a long pause filled with Gansey’s chastised silence. This wasn’t solely about Ronan’s choices, and they all knew it.

After that, Gansey’s tactical maneuvers had stopped, but Ronan still hadn’t really spoken to him since dropping out, which was less a hostile decision and more due to Ronan not being in school and refusing to answer his phone. When he left the Barns, it was to spend the night at St. Agnes or go for a long drive with Adam, who knew better than to try to play peacemaker on those occasions.

But now it was Gansey’s birthday, and Blue had summoned them at Nino’s, and apparently would never ever speak to him again if he did not show up. So, whatever, fine. It’s not like Ronan would ever miss Gansey’s birthday anyway. He wasn’t that shitty of a friend. He just didn’t want any drama.

“I’m just saying he needs to lay off,” he added, defensive.

“Fine,” Adam rolled his eyes. “Now are you gonna stop being a big baby?” he held out his hand for Ronan to take. “We’ve been out here for ages. Let’s go inside, I’m cold.”

“Now who’s being a big baby,” Ronan shot back, but took Adam’s hand anyway. He couldn’t help the little electric thrill that went through him at the sensation of skin on skin. It had been almost a month now since he and Adam had gotten together, since their first kiss on Ronan’s birthday, and he still wasn’t used to the idea of this being offered so casually, like something he could just have. Because he could just have it now.

They walked into Nino’s to see Blue waving at them energetically to signal her position. There was no need for it, of course, because she was sitting at the same booth they always sat in. “God, so dramatic,” Ronan moaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Ain’t that the truth,” Adam commented, his lips tilting into a smirk. Ronan gave his hand a little squeeze.

Blue, satisfied with her flagging-down antics, had sat back down, and now was placidly nestled into Gansey’s side, looking like one of those small angry birds who puff up and tuck their head into their body until they’re perfectly round. On Gansey’s other side, perusing the menu intently as if it didn’t have the same 12 choices as always, was Henry Cheng, his hair looking like an abstract painting and his t-shirt screaming out a Kylie Minogue logo.

And Gansey himself looked… the same as usual, which was to say, it was both impossible to tell and impossible to forget that he had died and been resuscitated in the past month. He also looked anxious. That, Ronan mused, was also usual. He just didn’t usually look anxious about greeting Ronan, and Ronan wasn’t sure he liked that. He chewed on his lip, then gave Gansey a reluctant half smile and hoped it didn’t look like too much of a snarl. Gansey also gave a half smile that looked like a gastritis grimace.

Progress.

“Hey y’all,” Adam greeted. “Hi Blue. Cheng,” he nodded. Then he turned towards Gansey, starting to raise his right fist reflexively; he paused, looked briefly down at where his left hand was joined with Ronan’s, then seemed to make a split-second decision and raised that hand instead, curling his fingers into a fist around Ronan’s, making it so they both fist-bumped Gansey at once. It was embarrassing and looked silly and awkward, but somehow, afterwards, Ronan didn’t feel quite so tentative, and Gansey’s grimace was more and more reminiscent of a smile.

“Very fucking clever,” he muttered in Adam’s ear as they slid into the booth.

“I know, right?” Adam replied with a cheery smile. “I should be a counsellor or something.”

Ronan shoved his shoulder into Adam’s good-naturedly. Adam jostled him right back. Neither let go of the other’s hand.

Immediately, they were pulled into conversation by Blue and required to arbitrate a discussion between her and Henry on whether reality shows were morally bankrupt or a fascinating social experiment. Adam, who had never watched a reality show, sided with Blue out of principle. Gansey, who for very different reasons had also never watched a reality show, was discreetly trying to pull Ronan’s focus with an entreating look; Ronan, warily, let him.

“How have you been, Lynch?” Gansey asked.

Ronan shrugged. “How have you been?”Gansey looked for a moment like he was going to lose his patience. Instead, his face cracked in a different direction, an almost melancholy expression coloring it. “Alright. Adjusting, I suppose. To… everything.”

Everything being “dying and coming back to life as a patchwork tangle of ley line forest”.

“That’s rough, man.” Ronan raised his glass sympathetically, and Gansey tilted his own back.

“You must also be… adjusting. To everything.”

Everything being losing his mother, losing Cabeswater, and almost dying himself.

The undercurrent of things unsaid, hovering just under the surface, was too much; Ronan was going to scream.

But then Gansey did the unexpected.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Ronan choked on his drink a little.

“I shouldn’t have hassled you about school. I just…” Gansey waved a vague hand.

“Think you know better than everyone?” Ronan supplied dryly. Damn, maybe Parrish was rubbing off on him.

Gansey tilted his head. “Perhaps. I made a few bad calls. I, uh. I may have sold Monmouth Manufacturing to get Child to let you stay in school.”

The words were like an ice pick in Ronan’s heart. He felt Adam’s hand tighten around his, despite the fact he was ostensibly still listening to Blue. Adam knew, then. Ronan could only imagine that argument.

“Dick. You did what?”, he rasped. “I never, ever asked you to do anything like that, you colossal fucking-”“I know, I know,” Gansey said, raising a placating hand. “It was stupid. I was maybe not thinking straight. Bit concerned with my own impending death. It’s alright. I managed to buy it back.”

The storm cloud threatening to explode in Ronan’s chest dispelled. Monmouth was safe. Monmouth, with its tall windows and its dusty floors and its walls that held a thousand stories of insomnia and grief and laughter and companionship and fights and friendship. Brotherhood.

“Good,” he said, a little hoarsely. “You love that place.”

“I do,” Gansey admitted wistfully. “It’s just been a little… well. Different. Now that it is just me, I mean. I don’t see you at school, and I don’t see you at ho– at Monmouth. And it’s a big place, and I suppose maybe I was – there is a chance that I perhaps might have been a little afraid of being… well. Lonely. I guess.”

Well. That was a low blow. Or maybe it only felt like one because Ronan had not stopped to think about that and was caught unawares now – but he was gonna go with low blow anyway. It seemed wrong for Gansey – Gansey, of all people – to be lonely. He had always been the one collecting lonely people, the glue holding them all together. Ronan had spent so much time worried about losing Gansey’s friendship, so it was a baffling change of pace for Gansey to miss him.

It made him feel a little bad, but he also knew he was doing the right thing. He needed to be at home right now - his real home, his childhood home, to process everything. And Gansey had other people now – he had Blue and he had Henry, and Ronan had Adam – well, he’d had Adam before, in a manner of speaking, but it was different now. They were both following their own paths. But it didn’t mean Ronan couldn’t be there for him.

“You can still text me, you know,” he said as casually as he could.

Gansey glared at him. “I have been.”“Really?” Ronan said even more casually, scratching at his stubble. He shrugged. “Try again,” he added, more sincerely, holding Gansey’s gaze.

Gansey gave him a small, earnest smile. “I will.”

And just like that, things were okay again. Ronan leaned over the table to give Gansey an amicable punch in the shoulder, but had to raise his right hand, still entwined with Adam’s, to reach forward. It didn’t occur to him that their joined hands were visibly resting above the table until Gansey’s eyes shot down to them and quickly away, his expression doing something complicated but not displeased. He nodded, that little unguarded smile still on his face. Approval, perhaps. Ronan had not asked for it nor did he need it – but it was still nice.

Not as nice as actually getting to hold Adam’s hand though. Now that he’d been reminded of it, he couldn’t stop focusing on it – the warmth, the contact of thumb crossed over thumb, his fingertips brushing over Adam’s still slightly chapped knuckles, the way Adam’s calluses were familiar to him now in a way he’d never expected to know outside of a dream.

Adam – who by this point was wryly arguing with Henry over whether there was even a point to a student council when everyone on it was part of the 1%, to Henry’s impassioned retorts that there are more issues than just classism, Parrish – absently shifted his hand so it was resting palm up on the table, an open invitation, a gentle suggestion to readjust. Ronan followed in kind, resting the back of his hand against Adam’s palm. Adam wrapped his long fingers around the side of Ronan’s palm – Ronan closed his fingers over Adam’s.

He felt warm all over. He took a sip of his iced tea but couldn’t hide the small, private smile playing on his lips, nor could he stop staring at their hands crisscrossed over each other’s on top of the table.

And then he was rudely snapped out of it by Blue’s teasing Awww, cute.

Ronan raised his head slowly, making sure to narrow his eyes menacingly despite the distinct heat he could feel on his cheeks.

Blue was staring at their hands, an unrepentant grin on her face. She met Ronan’s eyes without a trace of concern, taking a big, leisurely gulp of her tea.

“You got somethin’ to say, Sargent?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yeah,” she replied defiantly. “I said you guys are cute.”

This was all new terrain. Ronan had never been teased for being in a relationship, but he’d also never been in a relationship, and hell – he’d all but avoided thinking about the mere idea of a relationship until last year.

Then Adam pressed his leg against Ronan’s under the table, a private show of support, a quiet reminder that it wasn’t Adam and Ronan, but Adam-and-Ronan. It was such a small thing, but it meant so much. Less than a year ago, Ronan had been sitting in this same booth, watching Adam hold hands with Blue and feeling like he’d swallowed his own heart and it was slowly poisoning him from the inside.

And now, it was Adam-and-Ronan.

He tilted his chin haughtily. “Maybe we fucking are, Sargent”.

Blue scrunched up her nose, her expression going from teasing to earnest. “Yeah, you are. It’s nice to see you looking like that for a change.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Cute?”

Blue leaned her chin on her hand. “Happy.”

Oh.

Well, how about that.

Ronan exhaled loudly from his nose and threw himself back against the headrest of the booth; but he also extended a leg under the table so he could knock into Blue’s tiny booted foot. She bumped his boot right back.

At his side, Adam leaned into him lightly, shoulder pressed warmly to shoulder, his head tilted in a way that suggested he might soon be resting it against Ronan’s temple, as he sometimes did when he was tired after a long shift.

Yeah. Ronan supposed that, all considered, he was pretty happy.

#ronan lynch #adam parrish #pynch #trc #trc fic #fluff #my writing #everyone in this gang is so DRAMATIC i can't stand them #it's ok tho they love each other :')#will adam and ronan ever stop holding hands?? DEBATABLE #nor should they!!!#they've earned their hand holding privileges #but ronan will still call out blue and gansey for doing it #anonymous #answer

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iwillsithereandtrytocontribute · 4 years

Text

Lost in the Wrong Story

Uh-oh It's the Trash Man

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

~ A collaboration with @hitmewiththatfanart33 ~

Summary: Roman can’t run from his problems forever.

Roman hit the ground running. Surely if he ran with no particular direction they couldn’t find him, right? He dashed between trees and jumped over roots, taking some small comfort in the repetition of the sound of his boots hitting the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, for he didn’t remember consciously making this world, and most of the Disney movies he grew up watching had trees in them. Though not many trees looked like this: all twisted and curled, ferns and other various jungle-looking flora littering the floor. No, these woods were far from something out of a Disney movie. They had an eerie feeling to them, and the chirps and calls of unfamiliar bugs and night creatures set him on edge.

“Why are you being so difficult?” a nasaly voice droned. Roman flinched, whipping around in a circle to find the source, and his heart only beat faster when some sort of wispy green fog menacingly circled him. It was so cold; colder than the already-freezing night-time air. However, that wasn’t why he trembled.

The fog curled and condensed right before his face to form the disembodied head of a large green cat-looking thing, smiling at him crookedly with large, sharp fangs… The Cheshire Cat from Tim Burton’s adaptation of Alice in Wonderland…

Remus.

He should’ve known from the second he stepped foot in this world that this wasn’t his creation like all the other places had been. “It’s none of your business,” he snarled, “Go away.” He tried to get around him so that he could leave, but the floating head only followed his movement.

“Oh, but it is.” A set of paws took shape, and Remus rested his chin on them with an aggravating look of amusement. “You’re in my world if you couldn’t tell. And I had one hell of a time creating it.” He tilted his head side to side with each word for emphasis. “Whatever happened to making room for new stuff by getting rid of the old?” Remus complained.

The last thing Roman needed right now was to play cat-and-mouse with his brother, so he turned around and began running, hoping to get enough momentum to hop worlds again, though it would be challenging considering this wasn’t his world and was thus less easy to manipulate. He barely got ten feet before a fully-formed cat was suddenly pouncing on him, pinning his back to the ground. “My world,” Remus repeated with a viscous hiss. “Meaning you’re going to listen.” He could feel Remus’ rancid breath against his face, and the terror that he would bite his head off at any given minute overwhelmed him.

Roman said nothing, too busy teetering on the verge of hyperventilation. “Now… What is your fucking problem?”

And in response to the exhaustion, the heartache, the stress, and the fear… Roman’s wide eyes welled up with stinging tears, and he began to cry. Remus looked incredibly uncomfortable. Great. Even his own brother didn’t know what to do with him. The new addition of Roman’s pitiful blubbering noises and the way he squeezed his eyes shut tight to make the world go away seemed to shake Remus out of his surprise, and the heavy weight on his chest suddenly felt less concentrated and more… human. “Hey, hey, hey… I’m sorry I scared you, I just thought you were going for a Disney theme, so I added my own twist to it… Good old Tim Burton, you know? It’s pretty much the only thing we can both sit through without killing each other.” Remus sounded like someone who had no experience with children trying to comfort a screaming baby.

Roman slowly blinked his eyes open. Remus was still sitting on his stomach, which wasn’t the most comfortable— cat or human— and he looked down at his face worriedly. “Get off me. I can hardly breathe,” he complained. Remus quickly complied, sitting back on his heels to the side of him, offering a hand to help him sit up.

Once he was upright, he stayed quiet a moment, resting his elbows on his knees. Then he spoke. “I’m a handful, okay? They don’t deserve to have to deal with that, so I just thought that maybe coming to the place where I’m in control and people will still love me even when I make a mistake was what was best for everyone. Nobody was supposed to come after me. None of this was supposed to happen.” He sniffled and angrily wiped at his tears.

“Everyone with a brain is a handful, you blood clot. They obviously love you anyways, or else they would’ve ditched you a long time ago,” Remus said, trying to cheer him up.

“They have,” Roman said quietly.

“What? No, I was just with them.”

“That’s not what I meant… Patton just disappeared for several months one time after Christmas. He didn’t even say goodbye, and I needed him. Then I almost caused Virgil to leave completely, Logan left when I was upset over that one breakup, and… Janus hasn’t left me yet. He hasn’t been around long, but I think I just gave him a pretty good reason to.” This felt cathartic. Like he’d been in an uneasy or heightened state for so long that he forgot what it felt like to just be empty.

Remus chewed on his lip, cocking his head, and his next words sounded forced, but he meant well. “They need you too…” Roman barely caught him muttering ‘those useless infants’ under his breath, and he almost snorted. “Did you ever try to go after Patton?”

“No,” he admitted, guilt stirring up in his stomach.

“Weren’t you also the reason Virgil came back? And isn’t Janus still looking for you somewhere in this jumbled mess of yours? Sounds to me like you’re just being an idiot,” Remus said with a shrug. Somehow his careless, goofy way of going about things calmed Roman down more than anything else could.

“I guess.”

“I’m really not the one you should be talking to. All I’m good for is butt jokes,” he said, not entirely incorrectly. Roman chuckled a little.

Remus sighed. “Virgil’s no stranger to running away to brood; he’d be way better at this than me.” Then he turned his head, eyes wide with sudden thought. “He needs a nickname for that specifically. Hmm…”

He snapped. “Got it: Forest Whump,” he announced proudly, “Contains running and angst.”

Then Roman was truly cracking up. It was pretty funny, and the thought of late night Tim Burton movie marathons and stealing each other’s clothes suddenly made Roman miss his stormcloud more than words could describe, so maybe Remus was right. “Yeah,” he said fondly. “I guess I really messed up.”

“Yep!” Remus trilled gleefully.

Roman nodded. “Thank you, brother.”

“No prob, Bob!” Remus faded away, leaving just his deranged, but somewhat well-meaning smile before even that disappeared.

When Roman hopped worlds he landed in yet another forest. Free from Remus’ influence, it felt a lot more familiar, like an old friend. He was fairly sure what fairytale he was in, (he had to be, he’d created the world after all), he just didn’t know where in it he was. He ran until he reached the cottage, exactly where he had instinctually known it would be. Then he walked upstairs, pushing two of the undersized beds together in the corner to form one large enough to sit comfortably on, wondering what to do while he waited on Virgil to inevitably show up. After all, the others seemed to find him no matter what he did. They practically fell into his lap.

So he waited.

And he waited…

The isolated silence began to weigh on his mental state.

Suddenly, where he had originally felt calmed by his conversation with Remus, all sorts of conflicted feelings began to arise. Roman knew Remus was trying to help, and for a while his words did make him feel better... until he started really thinking about what he’d said, that was. When Patton disappeared for months, he did nothing. When Logan felt ostracized during the courtroom trial, he had said nothing. Hell, he had been happy to have Virgil gone… at first.

Patton must still resent him for never coming for him. Is that why he never paid any mind to Roman’s absences? Was it payback? Did Logan still loathe him for abandoning their college diploma to be a YouTuber? What about Virgil? He couldn’t count how many times he’d been flat-out cruel to him. And with Janus, when he had first told them his name, he’d laughed at him just like he had with Virgil and treated him like a villain just because of his own conflicting emotions.

Now he’d left them who knows where in the Imagination.

“Roman, just come home with me.”

“I just missed you so much it hurt.”

“You need to come home.”

“Roman, this isn’t funny. Come out.”

“Where is Patton?”

“Roman!”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Roman!”

“Now… What is your fucking problem?”

“Roman!”

He gasped brokenly, pressing a hand to his mouth as the tears began freely falling one after the other onto his lap, and it felt as if every atom making him up trembled. His prince uniform slowly phased into black sweatpants and his favorite red hoodie so that they could hold him together when he couldn’t. He curled into himself.

Would they even want him back given everything he’d done and continued to do? If they found him would they just try to let him down easy? This and more swirled around Roman’s head relentlessly, and no matter how many times he wiped his eyes, they were quickly replenished.

***

Virgil walked straight into a tree as he entered the Imagination. He stumbled back, expecting Janus to catch him, and instead fell to the ground. Right as he was about to shoot a teasing remark at Janus, Virgil realized he wasn’t there. Neither were Logan and Remus. He stood up and turned in a frantic circle. “Very funny guys. Come out Remus, you bitch.” No response other than the wind rustling through the leaves. Virgil laughed nervously. “You’ve had your fun. Come on.” Nothing.

He was in the middle of the woods with no way of knowing how to get out or find help, and they weren’t here with him.

He fumbled around to find his hoodie to calm his rapidly increasing panic and felt nothing. A glance down at himself had him on the verge of laughing hysterically, for he was wearing a rich purple dress that nearly reached the ground. He felt behind his back and found, to his relief, a hood, so at least Roman wasn’t completely cruel. Sure the tight laces were hell, as were the sleeves that reached down to his legs, but as long as he could smoother himself in fabric, he could calm down. He tried to remember the exercises Logan had taught him: 4-7-8 and counting with all of his senses. Eventually, his breathing slowed and he removed his hood.

The world seemed a little less scary now. He’d noticed birds chirping amongst the treetops, the sun filtered down nicely, and he was sure that whatever reason he had been brought here was important.

He was sitting on the ground, back pressed up against a tree, though he couldn’t quite remember doing that. He stood up, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. For one, he was in a forest— wow great job, Virgil. Figure that one out all by yourself?— and secondly… Well, he had nothing. Just trees. Looks like he was picking a direction and going with it in the hopes he’d find Roman… somehow.

He hadn’t been walking very long when he spotted a vaguely familiar cottage. It wasn’t big enough to be from Sleeping Beauty, so… Really? Snow White? Was this because I said I liked the Evil Queen’s aesthetic once? He shrugged and pushed the door open. That was when he heard someone upstairs, and for a moment he felt relieved to not have to be alone, but that quickly changed when he realized whoever it was was crying. His eyes went wide.

Roman.

Virgil dashed up the stairs as fast as his gown would let him, practically throwing open the door, and he nearly cried upon seeing the person he’d been looking for. “Roman!” Virgil called out. Roman looked up from where he was bunched up on the bed. Virgil moved over to the bed to try and hug him, but Roman shrugged him off. “Roman?”

This wasn’t like him. This was bad.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Roman whimpered quietly, fresh tears running down his face. “I just want to be left alone.”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Virgil sat next to him, but Roman scooted away and put his face back down to his knees.

“I get it!” Roman said loudly out of nowhere. “You’re all just the nicest people in the fucking world and you’re just trying to let me down easy. Just leave me alone!” The window next to them shattered.

“Roman. Roman, listen to me.” Virgil tried to keep his voice steady. As much as he wanted to hug Roman, he knew that when he was feeling this way he hated being touched, so he kept his distance. “This is all in your head. Trust me, as the literal personification of anxiety, I should know. You’re lying to yourself.”

Roman turned his back to him, facing the headboard that rested against the wall to the left of the window, his breath coming in heavier and more panicked.

“You don’t know that!”

“I do. I swear I do.” Virgil was crying now. Roman was scaring him, and everything in Virgil cried out to ease the insurmountable amount of pain he was in. The wind roared through the broken window, sending pillows and sheets flying. He longed to run and hide until this was all over, but that other, stronger part of him prevailed. He was essentially Thomas’ fight or flight instinct, and he was determined to fight for Roman.

“I… do.” Everything in the room became crystal clear to Virgil in that moment. His eyes settled on a single shiny red apple just past the bedpost, still among the spinning wreckage that threatened to cut his skin to ribbons. Not a thing touched him when he stood, walking a path to the fruit, and when he reached it there was no going back.

He had to have it.

As if in a trance, his lithe, pale fingers wrapped around its round form.

He pressed his mouth against it.

“Virgil?”

Then its sweet juice was filling his mouth.

***

Roman’s brow furrowed against his knees as he heard Virgil trail off then fall silent. He brought his head up with a soft, “Virgil?” and when there was no response he turned around on the bed out of curiosity, only to freeze in horror at what he saw. He swore all the breath left his lungs.

It was too late.

Virgil’s teeth were already sinking into it, and Roman felt helpless as he watched in shock, the bedding and glass crashing down around them.

The next thing to hit the ground was the apple, a sort of dull thud against the wooden floor, then Virgil came down with it, and with a sickening gasp, Roman lunged. Yet again, it was too late. The sound of Virgil’s head hitting the ground echoed throughout the cottage.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Roman repeated that single word over and over again, dropping to his knees and scooping Virgil’s limp form up into his lap.

This was his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. He was supposed to be the hero. But he wasn’t a hero. He was a coward, running away, always making the wrong choice and hurting the people he loved, and it wasn’t like Virgil was the first victim of his recklessness. How could they love someone like that?

The truth was… they couldn’t, but he had to try.

Hurriedly, he kissed Virgil, begging for that true love’s kiss he always believed in to break the curse that he’d unwittingly set in motion through his anger. Nothing happened. He tried again and again, but Virgil didn’t wake up. Didn’t breathe. “Virgil! Virgil please wake up!” Roman shook him, but his head only lolled. “Virgil, wake up. Please. Please.” Roman dissolved into tears, hugging Virgil close, rocking back and forth. He’d known all along that he wasn’t Virgil’s true love, but finding out by putting Virgil into a curse he couldn’t break was by far the worst way to have done so.

Minutes passed by with Roman desperately clinging to the one he loved.

In those eternal minutes, Virgil didn’t move, and where Roman had once been able to warm him up, his skin stayed as cold as porcelain. The only thing that kept Roman from giving up entirely was the fact that there was still a steady pulse to be felt in his neck beneath the cold, lifeless guise the curse blanketed him in. He gave him one last squeeze and firmly pressed their foreheads together.

Roman carefully lifted Virgil onto the bed, only now noticing how breathtaking he would have been in the long, draping fabric and rich purple were he still awake, and he crossed his arms before wiping the tears from his face. He even conjured a bouquet of white poppies to place in Virgil’s clasped hands. The simple conjuring took every ounce of his willpower and energy, and he sobbed his heart out all the while. Then he pressed one final kiss to Virgil’s forehead with a vain hope that this kiss would somehow work.

“I’ll make this right. I swear.”

He had to find Janus.

Fun fact! White poppies symbolize eternal sleep, oblivion, imagination, consolation, dreams, and peace. Yes, I did in fact spend 10 minutes looking up the meanings of various plants.

@cuter-on-the-inside @abbyisconfused @n4o5r7a9 @omni-hamiltrash @fandomsofrandom @t0astyt0es @withspaces @anyelram841 @yep-another-fander @strangecreatureyoucantidentify @fandom-trash-304 @chelsvans @nomejodasb @iampengwing @neonb-fly @analogical-mess @midnight-tragedyy @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @athenashipsthings @thgjclw @littleladynightshade @casuallyimpossibledream @hekking-happy-nonsense @comicsimpson @slutforketchup @sandersidess @i-need-you-buddy @witchyvirgil @ghosttb0y @pixelatedrose @emilightniing @csi-baker-street-babes @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @spooky-scary-virgil @justanothernerdyfandomblog @phantomfantasize @panicattheeveywhere @hedgiehoggles @i-really-like-dragons @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0 @crabsncrabs @gattonero17 @dragonleesupporter @lokiamorstuffs @emo--nightmaree @anotherbisexualbooklover @7-slights-at-virgil @romanvirgil @croftersjam15 @underthesea73

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tailorvizsla · 4 years

Text

Ner Mesh’la Tracinya

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Armorer Word Count: ~4300 Warnings: Public(ish) sex/fingering Author’s Notes: Y’all probably don’t know this but I thirst for Armorer the same way I thirst for Paz Vizla. You can read this over on AO3, if you’d prefer.

📚 My Master List 📚

Edit: Changed the formatting for story information and added moodboard. A huge, ginormous thank you to Huliabitch for helping me figure out how to make it! ❤️❤️❤️

Din Dumbass Djarin dropped you off with his Tribe in the middle of the night without warning. To you, or to his family. After a very tense standoff where you tell them Din’s full name – the improvised middle one included – and withstand two hours of interrogation while someone tries to contact him, you are allowed to use one of the rooms. Din eventually responds, informing the Armorer that he had endangered you and the Imps know who you are. So, he is keeping you safe until the worst of the danger is over. Fortunately, you have useful skills, and you are put to work immediately.

Today marks your eleventh week with Din’s family. You had sneaked down to the laundry room earlier today and ‘borrowed’ one of Neten’s suits to work in. You figure he will not mind it, considering you caught him red-handed in the kitchen, stuffing caramel cookies up the front of his bucket. The same caramel cookies that Paz Vizla had brought back and warned everyone to not touch.

You zip it up halfway and tie the sleeves around your waist. It’s hotter than the face of the sun, even indoors, and you don’t give a shit if anyone is offended by the sight of you walking around in a thin white tank-top and a man-sized extra-large flight suit. You then set to work in the workshop, trying to repair the environmental control panel so that the whole ‘hotter than the face of the sun’ problem will go away.

It does not take you long to figure out that the problem doesn’t involve the panel. Listening carefully, you realize that you cannot even hear the fan spinning, even with the power on. That explains why the air is not moving. You let out a huff as you look up at the square grill, well above your head.

Grabbing a ladder, you go unscrew the screws and place them into the cup on the table. Then you grab your bag, push it into the gaping maw, and sort of wriggle up the sloped incline, using your hands and feet to push yourself along. Whoever decided to put the fan this far back into the vent should be dragged out in public and pelted with tomatoes, you think grumpily to yourself.

You just barely fit into the dusty, narrow space. It takes a minute or so to wriggle your way to the fan, where you start testing the connectors. Once you have located the faulty connectors, you yank them out and replace them. As you solder the last connector into place, your feet slip a bit on the incline.

You shuffle yourself forward again to reattach it to the power source. For a single gut-wrenching second, nothing happens. Then the fan slowly starts to spin, spluttering, before it finally chugs up to speed. Thank the fucking spirits. The cold breeze causes a wave of goosebumps to break out across your sweat-slick skin. With that task finished, you begin to wriggle your way back out. When your back half exits the vent, you try to feel around for the top rung of the ladder.

You feel it…and promptly knock it over.

Shit.

The ladder hits the ground with a loud crash. You let out a little puff of air to get the hair off your face and try to figure out what you are going to do next. It’s a bit of a drop to the ground and you don’t want to risk spraining your ankle. Unfortunately, the metal beneath you is dusty, and you start to slip out. You let out a screech.

Two hands clamp around your hips as you fall out completely, landing on the person behind you. They let out a surprised grunt as they catch you, their arms wrapping around you. The two of you stumble back a bit, but the strong person behind you keeps you both on your feet.

“T-thank you,” you say, turning to your savior.

“Perhaps you should secure your ladder next time,” Armorer says, her helmet tilting down at you.

You swallow, noting that her arm is still wrapped around your waist. Fuck, she is so much stronger than she looks. Absently, you rest your hands on her chest plate, feeling the warmth of the bes’kar under your fingertips. For some reason, your heart begins to pound, and heat begins to blossom everywhere. You try to speak, but all you can manage is some sort of pathetic stuttering noise. After a second, she lets go of you, and you take a half-step back.

“Th-thanks,” you manage to say, somewhat coherently once you can manage to breathe.

Swallowing, you take a second to center yourself. Calm, collected, and definitely not soaking wet just from that simple touch. Ignoring that damp heat in your panties, you force yourself to focus on your work.

“Well, the environmental controls are fixed now,” you say in what you hope is a cheerful tone. “Is there anything else that I can help with today?”

You note that her helmet tilts down again.

“The environmental controls in the karyai seem to be damaged as well,” she says. “I must ask – why are you wearing Neten’s suit?”

You let a devious smile cross your face.

“He won’t mind,” you say.

“Why is that?”

“He’s the one who ate all of Big Blue’s cookies,” you say. “Paz already knows, but…he is waiting for the right time to bring it up.”

Armorer sighs.

“I assume you will be taking full advantage?”

“I will wash everything and put it back once I am finished,” you say. “If Neten can’t take a bit of playful blackmail, I don’t think he can withstand what Paz is going to do to him.”

She nods once at you. When she leaves, you wonder why she had come here in the first place. Shaking your head, you clear the thoughts away, and head down to the karyai. There, you find the two vents she had been referring to. One has the same problem as the one in the workshop, so you repair it quickly. The second control panel has burnt out completely.

You scavenge what parts you can from the workshop, finding a few extra chips and connectors. Unfortunately, it is not enough to repair the second unit. You sigh and write a note for one of the hunters to bring back a new condensation coil for it. On second thought, you add a detailed drawing with precise measurements. Some of the hunters are not the best at paying attention to certain things, and you do not want to wait for a third (or fourth) trip out when they invariably fuck it up.

At the end of the day, you are beyond exhausted. Your body is covered in a fine layer of dust, grease, and whatever the hell had been accumulating in the vents. After a hot shower, you go back to the karyai to continue helping around the place. Even when the workday is over, there is always plenty of work to be done. There are always children in need of care – and you are always happy to offer a tired parent a few minutes of respite.

As soon as you come into view, you are swarmed by five of the younger ones, and you let them cuddle into your side, giving each one a bit of attention and affection. Then, mischief fills you as you kneel in the group of children. Slyly, you start handing out very small pieces of candy. The older children immediately sense the presence of sweets and come to grab a piece for themselves.

Then Armorer comes to investigate. The children scatter like cockroaches, their treats secured in pockets or mouths. Rising to your feet, you reach into your other pocket and bring out the good candy. You offer her one of your last chocolates with a sheepish grin. Armorer takes it, much to your surprise, and puts it away.

Armorer finishes putting her tools away. Her shoulders ache, but in the pleasant way that results from hard labor. She banks the flames to keep the Forge at operating temperature. After collecting her toiletries, she heads to the locker room. As she passes by the workshop, she hears a faint strain of music. It is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, with a strong drum beat and lilting string instrumentals. She steps inside to investigate. At the far end of the room, just out of sight of the doorway, she sees you by one of the reflective cabinets.

Not standing, but dancing.

You are dancing quite skillfully. Armorer feels her mouth go dry when she sees the way your supple body twists and undulates to the soft music playing. She often thinks back to that morning when she caught you. She had not been expecting to see your nipples straining at the fabric of your shirt, nor the way you flushed at her touch and your pupils dilated. She lingered, simply enjoying the way you stuttered. Armorer continues watching, a coil of heat in her belly, as your breasts and ass bounce with each movement.

“See something you like, Armorer?” comes a voice from behind her.

She almost twitches.

“Sneak up on me again and I will put my hammer through your thick skull,” she says flatly to Paz.

The older man snorts. He leans in.

“She’s cute,” Paz whispers dramatically. “You sure you can handle a little spitfire like her?”

She only has to look at him. He chortles and nudges her with his shoulder, a show of companionship and support.

“Good luck,” Paz says.

“A good hunter does not need luck,” she responds.

Paz snorts. Armorer ignores him and turns back to you. You are still dancing, though slower than before. It has been far too long since she has had a companion to share herself with.

The next evening, you find yourself finished early. So, rather than laze around and watch some silly soap opera in the karyai with Revala, you decide to go blow off some steam. You put on your athletic clothes – all elastic and snug so you don’t get caught up in anything – and put your hair up in a braid. You bypass the few machines and head toward the back rooms where people spar. Selfishly, you decide to take over one of the private rooms so you can stretch and do your yoga routine. If you fall over, at least you will have privacy for your humiliation.

“Do you wish to be alone?” a voice asks from the doorway.

“No,” you say to Armorer as you lift your head. “There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

You notice immediately that her helmet is very different than the one she normally wears. It is the same color and has similar features. However, it looks shorter. As she moves, you can see that it reveals most of her cowl. Ah, it lets her move her head without running the risk of dislodging her helmet and compromising what she can see. The one she wears in the Foundry probably functions for more protection against the intense heat of the flames.

“Do you wish to know something?”

You mull over it.

“Nah, it’s a stupid question.”

“Remember the company I keep,” she remarks casually.

You are unable to hold back your snort of laughter. Earlier in the day, you overheard her speaking with Hannah, the cook.

Hunters are not known for their intelligence, Hannah. That is why we must also childproof the top cabinets.

“It’s about your helmet, which is why I held back,” you say quietly.

There are a few moments of silence before she tilts her head. You assume it’s an invitation.

“Is your other helmet ceremonial, or does it offer more protection from the heat?”

“Both,” she says.

You nod. You want to ask more questions, but you figure you would be pushing your luck if you did. You want to spend time with her, not piss her off.

“Would you like to spar?” she asks.

“Sure,” you say. “I will do my best.”

You get to your feet and stretch your arms a bit more. She comes to a halt in front of you, dropping into her fighting stance.

You take a moment to size her up. She is taller than you and outweighs you by a small amount. Armorer spends most of her time in the Foundry, so she has some serious muscles. Not only that, she is a Mandalorian. She has been raised since her childhood to fight people (or so you assume). From what you can gather, Armorer has years of experience on you. You are outclassed in every single way, you think to yourself, as you match each of her footsteps, circling one another.

The only think you can hope to do is to try and outlast her, wait until she is tired, and then try to take her by surprise. They have no idea you are a somewhat-capable combatant. That was one thing Din had made sure of – he drilled you as hard as he could as often as he could. He wanted you able to protect yourself and the kid when he was gone. So, that was your only hope at this point.

She makes the first blow. Armorer is holding back, but it still hurts. You wince.

“If you would move out of the way in time, it will not hurt,” she remarks easily.

You dodge the second one and jab at her with your left fist. You are pretending that you are less skilled than you are. She twists out of the way. She hits you again. You try to return it with several quick strikes. None of them meet their target. When you can see that Armorer is slowing down, you decide to make your move.

With her next punch, you grab her by the arm and pull, flipping her over your hip and sending her sprawling. You surge forward onto her, trying to pin her down. Panting, you manage to get onto her legs, but she is fast. And holy shit, she is fucking strong. She easily rolls you onto your back, even as you are trying to pin her down with your full weight. As she moves to kneel above you, you grab her foot and pull it out from under her, sending her careening onto the ground.

You thank Cara for teaching you that move. Stubbornly, you try to get up, but Armorer decides to end the fight. With one hard shove, she sends you careening onto your front, knocking the wind out of you. You flail for a moment. Then she settles onto you, straddling your thighs as she presses you down into the mat. Her weight on you sends your blood pressure and pulse through the stratosphere.

You try to elbow her, but she slams your arm down into the mat, just barely missing your ear. She catches your other hand and pins it between the two of you, right at the small of your back. You try to roll onto your side, but she holds you down, resting more of her weight onto you to keep you on the ground.

“Recall that I am a hunter. I know when my prey is attempting to deceive me,” she drawls out. “You cannot escape.”

“Yes, I can,” you insist.

“You may try,” she says mildly.

You tilt your head and bite her, hard enough for her to feel your teeth through her thick glove, but not hard enough to cause concern. She smells like spicy smoke and leather, you think to yourself. She inhales sharply in response.

“How uncivilized,” she murmurs.

“Madame Armorer, may I remind you of how many orifices you have threatened to shove your boot into today?” you ask saucily, wriggling as you test her hold on you.

She, of course, does not budge. When her fingers tighten in warning around your wrists, you go quite still, and Armorer leans forward. You almost moan when you feel the firm press of her breasts against your back. Fortunately, you manage to stifle it before you embarrass yourself any further than you already have.

“Stop struggling,” she purrs. “You are helpless here.”

You want so badly to arch against her, to feel more of her strong body against yours. Arousal begins to thread through you, filling your veins with molten lava. It courses deep into your core, leaving you aching and throbbing between the legs.

“Do you wish to submit, little kitten?”

Oh, sweet merciful gods.

The fight leaves you as your brain promptly short-circuits. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Right now, you are on the verge of begging her to fuck you, to do whatever she pleases with your body. All you want is her touch, her hands against you, mapping out every square inch of your body. As she shifts, you let out a little noise, one that she definitely hears.

“Say it,” she says in a coaxing sort of tone. “I want to hear it.”

You inhale shakily.

“Yes, Armorer,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I – I submit. T-to you.”

She lets out a little purr of pleasure and releases your wrists.

“If you move without my permission, your punishment will be severe,” she says briskly. Then, as if reading your mind, she adds, “I have a paddle, and I will not hesitate to turn you over my knee.”

You let out a squeak.

“I will not tolerate disobedience. I trust you will behave?”

“Yes,” you nod solemnly. “I will behave.”

“Good girl. On your back.”

You obey. She lowers herself next to you, resting her weight on one elbow, looking every bit like a lioness about to pounce. You lick your lips and swallow, letting your eyes trace over the lines of her helmet. Her hand finds your neck, her fingers skimming over your pulse. Obediently, you lay there, hands by your sides as she continues her exploration down to your collarbones and sternum.

“So soft,” she remarks, as she squeezes your breast firmly.

Her thumb brushes against your nipple. You almost arch your back to follow the warmth of her hand. Remembering her threat, you just barely restrain yourself.

“Good girl,” she croons.

A little mewl escapes you as she continues her slow trail downward, her hand pausing on your ribcage. Then dipping down to your waist, making you squeal and twitch as her fingers tighten there. She stops moving, her helmet tilting down a bit. Biting down on your lip, you lay there, your entire body trembling as her hand remains at your waist.

She gives you a few seconds before she skims her palm along your belly. Bypassing your mound, she cups your hip and squeezes firmly, forcing a stuttering sigh from between your bruised lips. By now, your breath is coming in tiny gasps and your panties are soaked through, your cunt clenching wantonly.

Slowly, torturously, Armorer makes her way back up, dragging your shirt up to reveal your sports bra. Hooking her fingers under the band, she eases the elastic up and over your breasts, freeing them from the confines of the fabric. She lets out a low hum of satisfaction. Her hand rises to your lips.

“Take my glove off.”

You reach up.

“Use your teeth,” she says.

You nod in understanding. Locking eyes with her visor, you grasp her elbow gently, and lift your head. You gently bite down on the tip of the index finger. One by one, you slowly work her glove off. Then you pause.

“Do you want me to take it off completely?” you ask.

“Close your eyes,” she says.

You obey once more, closing your eyes as you remove it completely. Mischievously, you lean up and press a quick kiss to her finger, earning yourself a soft sigh. Emboldened by her pleasure, you skim your lips along her palm, pressing little kisses against her calloused skin until you find her thumb, relishing in each intoxicating sigh she gives you. Smiling, you part your lips and gently nibble along the side of her digit. She inhales and pulls away. You let out a mewl of disappointment.

“You disobeyed me,” she says.

You sulk.

“I will be lenient,” she murmurs. “There will be time for you to learn your place.”

Her hand returns to your chest. She cups your breast. The feeling of her bare skin against yours sends a jolt through you, leaving you feeling dizzy and starved for air. She tweaks your nipple, humming as a sob catches in your throat. Swiftly, she treats your other breast to the same delightful torture, wrenching a full moan from you this time.

Her fingers slip under your waistband. When her fingers find your aching, throbbing clit, you whimper, your hips trembling as you struggle to stay still. Her promise of discipline fascinates you, but you need release more than anything else. Armorer traps your clit between her fingers and squeezes. This time, you are unable to hold back. You cry out sharply as you press your knees together. That knot in your belly is so tight it hurts.

“There we are,” she breathes. “Keep making those pretty noises for me, kitten.”

She strokes long, slow, lazy circles around your pearl, wrenching sobs from your throat as she so very slowly works you to the edge. Then she slides further down, tracing around your entrance. Without warning, she slides one finger into your aching, yearning center. You keen as your entire body twitches, your walls tightening around her still finger.

Armorer presses her forehead to yours. You can feel her breath against your cheeks. Automatically, you turn your head and press your lips to her helmet. She laughs, deep and low in her throat.

“Would you like to kiss me?” she asks. Then her voice lowers, growing huskier. “Press your lips to mine? Taste me?”

“Please,” you choke out.

“I thought I would have to work harder to teach you your manners, kitten.”

You whine as she presses a second finger into you and curls them, pressing directly into something that makes you see stars and your back arch. When you’ve come back down, she continues her languid pace.

“So pliant,” she murmurs. “So submissive. Tell me, do you enjoy being told what to do?”

“O-only - you,” you manage to stutter out, as her fingers curl inside of you again.

She hums with pleasure as you tighten around her. Whimpering, you turn to nuzzle her helmet.

“P-please – can I – touch you?” you whimper up at her.

“How could I tell you no?” she asks. “Touch me, kitten.”

You let out a warble of happiness as you finally reach up, touching her arm and hand. Up her arm, to her shoulder. You explore her body, touching the parts of her that you can reach. Sweetly, you kiss her helmet again, pressing your forehead to hers, knowing that it means something to Mandalorians.

She slides a third finger into you, and the knot in your belly begins to unravel. You pant softly against her visor, keening quietly as you spiral closer and closer to orgasm. When you start to reach that peak, you grasp at her, burying your face into shoulder as you sob, your entire body rising up to meet her hand. A white light goes off behind your eyelids as your orgasm strikes, as quick and hot as a bolt of lightning. She continues her pace, prolonging your orgasm, until your body is limp and shaking next to hers. She leaves her fingers inside of you, your walls occasionally tightening around her.

“You did so well, kitten,” she croons.

You dare to press a kiss to her shoulder, tightening your hand possessively around her.

“Ner mesh’la tracinya,” you whisper to her. My beautiful flame.

She inhales sharply.

“You have been listening in on lessons,” she murmurs.

“I want to please you,” you breathe up to her. “More than anything else…”

“You have pleased me so very well.”

She slides her fingers out of you. Blindly, you reach out, grasping her wrist with your hands. Then you gently pull her hand to your mouth and start cleaning her off, lapping up the evidence of your pleasure with short flicks of your tongue. Then you suck each finger into your mouth to ensure it is clean enough to be put back into her glove. Patting the ground by your side, you find her glove, and slowly put it back onto her hand, working it down until she is completely covered once more.

“Can I open my eyes now, please?” you ask.

“Yes, kitten,” she says, her voice a bit strained. “Open your eyes.”

You open your eyes and smile at her. Languidly, you stretch out next to her and continue your slow exploration, wondering if she will let you return the favor. She swallows and pulls back. Before she can speak, you bite down on your lower lip, and let your hand fall to her hip.

“You know,” you say. “I’m finished with all my work today…and you seem to be finished with all your work, too…”

Fuck, she’s got a nice ass, you think to yourself, as you steal a quick grope of her backside.

“…I don’t think anyone would be upset if Alor took some time to rest,” you say sweetly.

“Why do I suspect you have indecent intentions toward me?” she asks.

“I am afraid my intentions are depraved,” you say. “I might even wish to debauch you, Armorer.”

She laughs, a rich, warm sound that sends shivers all the way down to your toes.

“Kitten, you know nothing of debauchery,” she responds.

You sulk.

“I do too,” you insist.

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Very well. We will retire for the evening.”

She easily gets to her feet. You take her hand and she hauls you up with what seems to be no effort at all. The two of you head out toward the locker room, a thrill filling you at the promise of a night spent in her arms.

#tv: the mandalorian #the mandalorian #the armorer #the armorer x fem!reader #paz vizla #male oc

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