#trial shift at hotel tomorrow as well

[internationalplayboysdotcom]

sinus headache blocked nose and now dry heaving. what next.

#trial shift at hotel tomorrow as well #be merciful

[honey-decadence]

My All (Mia Fey x Reader)

no it's not a joke! i've had this in the drafts for awhile now and thought it would be a nice treat for today! no pranks, no bs, just an Ace Attorney fic!

the original prompt for this came from a list from another user that i had forgotten the link to! the only things in my notes were just:

one word prompt: #16 besotted - a strong infatuation, blindly or utterly infatuated

im terribly sorry for not being able to provide the list but if i do end up finding it, i'll be updating this with a link!

CW: NSFT, reader has no pronouns but is referred to as Mia's girlfriend, no mention of genitalia, nipple licking, kissing, office setting, Mia and reader just REALLY like each other

Word Count: 1157

“I want to do everything with you. I want this moment to go on forever Mia.” you confessed, softly pinning the woman down on her desk. Your hands grasped her jacket firmly.

“Is that so?” the woman hummed, enjoying the intense look on your face.

Your hands then ran over her body, from the soft shoulder massages you gave, from the gentle squeezes on her waist, to the more daring gropes of her breasts, there wasn’t a single part of Mia you didn’t want to touch, you felt like every inch of her deserved your undying attention. Part of it was because with Mia as your girlfriend, it was easy to lose yourself.

Had it not been for the window’s blinds being shut and the calming black veil of the night, the bell boy from the hotel across the office might have had an eyeful of another office incident: except this time it was the two of you being unable to unstick yourselves from each other.

You guided the woman to lay down; Mia was on her back on top of her own desk and her hair sprawled out with important papers scattered across the floor. You closed the distance and rested your weary head in the crook of her neck, taking in a deep breath of her scent. Everything about this woman was so captivating to you. 

It all happened so quickly, this feeling of desire overcame the two of you in one second, you were both discussing the evidence of a case, and the next, you both started getting handsy with one another. Your memory was foggy at the moment, unsure of who placed whose hand on whose butt, who said what, who first kissed who, etc.

However the end result was the same; you became smitten, you were deeply infatuated with the defense attorney and you wanted to take her right then and there. Your hand ran along her curves slowly, soaking in the sensation and her soft sounds, and latched on to the zipper of her suit. Your thoughts were riddled with the many images of Mia and you in various positions and scenarios, each one getting a little more raunchy and promiscuous than the last.

“You know (Y/N)…” her voice cut through your daydream. You looked up and stared into her eyes but that still didn’t stop yourself from slowly unzipping her jacket as you listened closely. The faint sound of the zipper seemed to fill the thick atmosphere.

“Nick is going to see this mess tomorrow morning.” her voice was playful as always.

With the zipper finally reaching its end, her jacket slid off her torso, revealing that same black bra that you were all too familiar with. Your hands wrapped around her, prompting Mia to arch herself towards you and allowing space to unhook the garment. Her own hands ran across your back, tugging at your own bra strap through your button up shirt and quickly unhooking it, letting the sound of the snap reverb throughout the office. It was a simple teasing gesture but it did wonders for your guy’s drive.

As your own fingers fiddled a bit with the hooks on your girlfriend’s bra, your gaze shifted back to her chest and you became distracted by her chest. You so badly wanted to give her one of her boobs a small bite and leave a mark but you had to exercise patience. Besides, you knew well that Mia probably wouldn’t want to show up to the trial with a love bite, visible for all the people in the court to see. 

But…. then again… with a bit of concealer or even a scarf, no one who would notice right?

You swallowed hard, trying not to get too wrapped up in your fantasies and focused on the present. You looked back at Mia grinning, clearly aware of the trance you’ve been put under by her. No amount of words you could say would ever capture how much you adored this woman.

“I’ll clean it up after. Promise.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

At last, her bra became undone. You wasted no time lifting the band up and over her breasts, watching them bounce slightly before they lolled to her sides. Immediately you lowered yourself and sucked on one of them, enjoying Mia’s slight squirming as your tongue circled around her nipple, your teeth ever so carefully grazing the nub. Her stifled moans resonated along with the sounds you made, driving you into an even more horny state.

Maybe it was the fact that you two hadn’t had the time to have a proper date or maybe it was because of how draining being a defense attorney could be, so much so that it wasn’t uncommon for one of you to fall asleep while chatting over the phone. 

Either way, all that pent up energy and drive overtook you both and brought you two into this frenzied state. You then felt one of Mia’s hands run through your hair, gently tugging your head to look up at her. You gave a soft but obvious whine; you wished the foreplay had lasted longer than a few moments but your boss demanded your attention right then and there.

And honestly, when would you ever turn down the chance to look at her pretty face? Her smile never failed to raise your spirits.

“Y/N…” she started. Her hand drifting down to the nape of your neck, her nails subtly scratching you. This time, it was your own back that arched a bit, whimpering as she bought you towards her, inching closer to your ear and whispered:

“It’s getting late don’t you think?”

Not a second later you uttered, “Why are you so damn gorgeous?”, completely ignoring her previous statement, you were so enraptured by her. Mia could only chuckle, finding amusement in her girlfriend’s honesty. It couldn’t be helped; it was the first thing that came to mind as you saw her, not just today but every time you saw the defense attorney. That honesty was something Mia appreciated from time to time.

You shifted a bit, cupping her face and kissing her, lingering there for what felt like a long period of time, enjoying the heat of the moment. Despite her warning you of the time, Mia licked your lips, knowing exactly what she wanted to do next. You opened your mouth, allowing her to invade your space and savor you for every second she could, even if it meant closing the office later than anticipated, even if it meant not following through on her own advice.

At this point, all the papers on the floor seemed irrelevant: the case, your guy’s stress, the bills, closing the building for the night: any worries you had, none of that mattered right now.

Your infatuation with Mia was the only thing that mattered, you two wanted nothing more than to get drunk off one another right now.

_____________________________________________________________

the title was inspired by this song, i felt like it really encompassed the feelings between the two, especially the chorus

for those that don't speak spanish, it's pretty much the same as the english version of this song with tiny changes in the nuances:

"I'll give you my all for one more night

and just so I can feel your body next to mine

I can't keep reliving our song

I'll give it, my all to you, to have your love"

#mia fey x reader #mia fey #ace attorney #nsft #ace attorney x reader #topping mia fey is a dream of mine #fr fr #i would love nothing more than to show her how much she deserves all this and more #i hope you all enjoyed this short fic!

[theycallme-thejackal]

Prompt: Midge and Lenny and a quiet, starry night.

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T Warnings: Mild Sexual Content

Part 1 | Part 2

After their night together, he stayed.

Midge woke before him, letting him sleep off the copious amounts of liquor he’d consumed the previous night, and headed for the kitchen, feeling pleasantly sore as she buttoned his shirt around herself.

She made breakfast. They ate together in the kitchen and then had sex again, this time forgoing the walk down the hall for making it right there on the kitchen table, her limbs wrapped around him as she shook her way to another climax.

He’s still here, which is surprising but certainly not unwelcome. Ethan and Esther are in Chinatown for a couple more days, and Mama and Papa come back tomorrow, leaving Midge and Lenny to enjoy a quiet night together.

It’s the longest amount of time they’ve ever spent in each other’s company, and she’s relieved to find their banter flows as easily at twenty-four hours as it does at twenty-four seconds. They sit out on the fire escape, sharing a cigarette and looking up at the uncharacteristically starry Manhattan sky.

Late autumn has descended, and she shivers in the chilly night air, prompting him to shift, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her. She curls into him gratefully, happily, and that unspoken agreement they had fades completely as he kisses her hair.

“I never thought the Upper West Side would be my scene, but this is…it’s really nice,” he admits as his fingers trail tenderly over her upper arm.

“And you haven’t even left the apartment,” she points out.

“That’s what’s nice about it,” he counters teasingly, dragging his cigarette.

Midge gazes up at him as he exhales smoke, his face silhouetted by the lamplight in her bedroom. “You can stay as long as you like,” she offers, sounding almost like a question.

“I’ll have to go back to my hotel at some point,” he counters. “If for no other reason than eventually I’ll have to wash this suit, and I haven’t worn a dress since I was in the navy.”

“You could…bring your stuff here,” she suggests.

Lenny arches a brow, and she averts her gaze, dipping her head as she inhales from the shared cigarette. “One day, and you’re asking me to move in with you?” He teases.

“Well it was a pretty great day,” she reasons. “And not permanently…I have a feeling you’d be driven to insanity by my parents, but…maybe just until you find a place?”

He looks down at her for a moment, grazing her fingers with his as he takes the cigarette back. “Like a trial run? See how we actually work as a couple?”

Midge shrugs. “Sure. If that’s what you want to call it.”

He exhales the smoke and offers the last puff to her, which she gladly accepts. “Do I have to sleep in the small bed again?”

“Only if you want. But eventually you’d have to share it with my five-year-old, and he’s a kicker.”

He chuckles and looks at her fondly, making her heart flutter. Then he places a soft kiss on her lips. “Your bed, it is.”

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgelenny fanfic #tmmm fanfiction #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #jackal fics #otp: more important than god #answers

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Arrangement

John Wick x Reader (A/n- a pretty tame chapter by comparison.)

Masterlist    The Arrangement Masterlist 

Warnings-  SMUT/NSFW, light bondage, d/s, vaginal fingering

Selfish Prayers 

~11 months ago~

The powder blue wrap dress with the generous neckline, capped sleeves and lace at the hem, ending mid thigh was one of her nicest ones. Of course, she owned a couple evening gowns for functions held at the bank, but they were hardly the type of dresses that she'd wear on a date, or whatever she was meant to be having with John Wick. He hadn't specified what exactly the reasoning for inviting her to dinner was, his exact words had been, "I'd like to take you to dinner, I'll call you with the details." 

He hadn't been the one to call though, instead, it had been his assistant, quickly telling her that she could meet John or rather, Mr. Wick, at the lounge of a popular five star hotel in Manhattan. The days leading up to that Friday had been nerve racking, though exciting. They'd been flirting before then, or at least, she thought they had. John was a man of very few words, and Y/n herself had never been too forward, but when he called for her boss, they'd usually spend well over fifteen minutes on the phone before she put him through. He'd ask about her day, make passing comments about how lucky her boss was to have her as his secretary and even fished around to see if she was single. John had more so made his interest increasingly clear on the night he'd prepped Y/n to testify on the matter of her boss's alibi. They'd been at his office well past midnight, he'd ordered them dinner and between the way John had coaxed her to relax through affectionate touches on her shoulder and his insistence to drive her home after they were finished, it was clear that he had taken a liking to Y/n.

Y/n couldn't deny it, she'd been intrigued by John from the moment she'd met him. He was the strong, silent type and exuded power, though, she supposed that it shouldn't have been surprising; he was one of the most powerful attorneys in the state, being one of two name partners at a well respected firm. And despite his seniority in comparison to her, he was alluringly attractive too; the textbook definition of tall, dark and handsome. It was one of the many things that had prompted her to accept his invitation and one would have to be blind to say that they didn't see his appeal. But Y/n? She was anything but. 

Though, that Friday evening, when she got to the private lounge, she hadn't realized that she'd  be walking into far more than she expected.

"I like to think of myself as a straightforward man," was what he'd said right in the middle of their meal, "And the last thing I want to do is mislead you, Y/n."

With a deep, shaky breath and a brief sip of her red wine, Y/n's eyes widened and she nodded slowly, wondering where he could possibly be taking things, "Okay."

"I think you're a remarkable woman," he noted, "In fact, I can't recall ever meeting anyone quite like you," at that, heat rushed to her cheeks and John smiled faintly before continuing, "Which is why I'd like to make you an offer."

His phrasing threw her and Y/n perked her brows, "An offer?"

"Yes," he determined, clearing this throat, "I have  no interest in…..what you'd consider a conventional relationship, I usually prefer to engage in an…...arrangement." He stopped to gauge her reaction, though Y/n didn't think he could gather anything more than confusion from it. 

"I don't understand," she finally admitted with a nervous chuckle. Was he implying that he wanted to hire her as an escort of some sort? 

"I have very specific tastes, needs," with a punctuating sip of his drink, he explained, "In plain terms; I'm looking for a submissive. Usually there are private clubs for this sort of thing, but you…..I like you."

She'd never been in a relationship like that and Y/n wasn't sure how she should respond. Her lips quivered in indecision and thoughts swirled around in her mind confusingly. Finally, she managed to choke out one simple sentence, "I don't think I follow."

With a sigh, not one of annoyance, more like one of relief, that said he was grateful that she hadn't rejected him just yet, John clarified, "I prefer an arrangement, a contractual one, where you would be my submissive, not my girlfriend. I'd be happy to outline what that means, if you're interested."

Without hesitation, though, merely out of intrigue, she blurted out, "I'm interested."

Regarding her curiously, John nodded, "Alright. It would be exclusive, of course. And it's very simple really; I would be your dom, and you'd come when I ask you to-"

"For sex?"

"Among other things, but yes. You're entitled to your limits, and I'd respect them. We’ll discuss it more if you agree."

"You said among other things, what are the other things?"

"Occasionally, for client dinners or functions, you'd come with me, to keep up appearances and things like that. But otherwise, there would be very little…….emotional obligation. I wouldn't be your boyfriend, is what I mean." The entire thing felt so impersonal that Y/n might have forgotten that they were meant to be on something reminiscent of a date. 

"You're overwhelmed," John determined after a couple minutes spent with her in silence. Surprisingly, he reached across the table for her hand, and when he looked at her then, she felt, in the most cliché sense, special. Not like she was the only girl in the room special, because she was, but in a way that had her convinced that even if the room was filled, she’d be the only person he wanted to look at. Perhaps that was the one thing that had sold her, she'd made her decision already. "I understand if this isn't something that you want."

"Would you be mad if I said no?" She glanced at his hand over hers, reluctant to reach the moment where he'd pull away. 

Tilting his head, John furrowed his brows, "No, but I would be disappointed," quickly realizing himself, he shook his head, "But my feelings shouldn't force you to make a decision. This will only work if you want it too."

Gnawing on her lip, Y/n offered him the answer they both wanted, the decision she'd made from the minute he touched her, "I want it. But I've never been a….."

"A sub," he finished for her, "That's okay, I can teach you," lifting his hand off hers, he leaned over smoothly, caressing her cheek tenderly, and then shifting a loose curl away from near her eye. The mood had changed significantly, suddenly becoming more intimate and Y/n quickly came to the realization that they were having dinner at a hotel for that very reason. He'd already decided what would happen if she said yes. "That's what doms are for sweetheart."

Y/n's breath hitched, the sound leaving her lips agape and contained in her throat. "Is this what it'll be like?"

Quirking a smirk, "Sort of. I'll take care of you, you'll want for nothing and you'd be the only woman I treat this way. There's still a lot to work out, I'll have the contract sent to you by tomorrow afternoon, but right now, I'd like to see if we're compatible."

Temporarily disposing of her demure disposition, Y/n's eyes sparkled wickedly, "You mean you want to fuck me?"

Taken aback by the change, John chuckled, "Yes," he stood from his chair abruptly, coming to help Y/n out of hers, "Come on." Leading her with a hand low on her back towards the elevator through the lobby. 

He'd withheld his words until the were secured safely inside the reflective box, his large palm slipping suggestively to the curve of her ass and his breath hot on her ear, "Tonight is just a trial run, but the next time you speak like that in public, you won't be able to sit on this," he smacked her harshly, causing Y/n to yelp and jump, "For the rest of the evening. Understood?"

Eager to please him, she nodded vigorously, "Yes Mr. Wick."

"Good girl," he praised, pecking her cheek, "And you can call me Sir," he hummed.

Shifting her head to meet his dark, consuming gaze, Y/n dragged her lower lip through her teeth, "Yes, Sir."

Even if she shouldn’t have expected anything less, Y/n was stunned upon entering the presidential suite. It took a man with tastes as refined as John's for a room like that to be rented for merely a handful of hours. Sucking in a breath, she looked around, letting the sight of reflective marble floors and exquisite French furniture under bright white light sink in. She’d never been in a room that nice, and being there in John’s attractively imposing presence was intoxicating. It felt as if she’d been thrust into a movie, it couldn’t have been real anyway, men like John simply didn’t handpick girls like her.

“What’s wrong?” He seemed hyper aware of every shift in her mood, not letting anything slip by him.

“Nothing,” she swallowed thickly, advertising her stare to the floor, “It's just…..why me?”

Knitting his brows, he urged her closer, “Why not you? It’s like I said, I think you’re a remarkable young woman; beautiful, intelligent and perfectly charming.”

“There are lots of women like that,” she scoffed, “And you could probably have anyone of them.”

“You’re right; I could. But I don’t want them, I don’t give a fuck about them,” he delivered firmly, “I want you," his voice dropped to a low, husky whisper, "There’s just something about you,” John leaned down, capturing her lips, “I don’t know what it is yet, but I’d like to find out. Come,” he urged, leading her to the sizable bedroom, where a series of large windows allowed city lights to illuminate the room. The chandelier over head was also on, though dim enough to not corrupt the mood. 

“Are you on birth control?” Was the first question that he asked as they entered and John left her side, headed towards the nearest end of the room as  heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks. He was brazen and unafraid to say what he had to, and do whatever he wanted. “I’ll know if you’re lying, so be honest.”

Blinking quickly, Y/n clumsily debated whether or not she should answer, eventually offering, in the softest peep, “Yes, I’m on the pill.”

“Do you take it every day?” John caught how wide her eyes went, easily brushing off her embarrassment, “We need to be open and honest with each other if we want this to work. And I’m only asking because I wouldn’t want any……” children, “Accidents.”

Stiffly, she nodded, confirming, “I take it everyday.” Of course he’d want to know, the man didn’t even want a girlfriend, why would he want to risk getting someone pregnant?

“You need a safe word, something simple, that you can remember when you’re uncomfortable or if I take things too far. Nothing that’s easy to miss and you have to remember it; something like a color or an object. Do you have anything in mind?” John was in the process of removing his watch and shrugging off his suit coat near the dresser as he spoke, leaving Y/n standing near the bed.

“A color…..” she mused absently, gazing down at her dress, “Will blue work?”

He’d already moved on to taking off his belt, following up with his shoes afterwards, “That’s perfect. You’ll speak when I ask you to, and you’ll cum only when I permit it, understand?”

“Yes Sir,” she offered meekly, not really sure on where her eyes should fall, opting to let them follow him around the room, observing in awe as John moved with fluidity, from the arm chair to a table laid out with drinks. 

John was finally sat on the bed, clad only in his pristine white dress shirt, stripped tie and black slacks, drink in hand as he carried on with the basics, “Like I said, it’s your first night, so we’re just working things out. But after you sign the contract, every time I invite you to my bedroom, you’ll wait on your knees, palms on your thighs and your head down. In your underwear. You don’t touch me unless I tell you to, and if I touch you in a way you don’t like for whatever reason, you use your safe word. Tell me your safe word again.”

“Blue.”

“Good,” John hummed, taking a sip of his bourbon, “Now, take your clothes off.”

The command startled her and Y/n inhaled sharply, “What?”

“Strip,” he ordered nonchalantly, “Do you need help with the zipper?”

“Uh….” Fumbling for words, Y/n shook her head, “It’s at the side,” she breathed. She couldn’t recall a man ever being that forward with her, and she’d certainly never been ordered to get naked right in the midst of what she thought to be a conversation. Downstairs, her quick witted boldness had come easy, but upstairs, when the moment had actually arrived, Y/n couldn’t resist the urge  to retreat into herself. 

Simply nodding, John kept his gaze on her, watching intently as she floundered around his simple order, sighing heavily when Y/n hesitated. He was patient though, his tone still even when he pressed the issue, “When I give you an order; you listen. And there’s no reason to be shy. You’re a beautiful woman Y/n, let me see you.”

Sucking in another unsteady breath, Y/n reached for the hidden zipper on the side of her dress, blinking quickly as she gave it a gentle tug. “More confidence,” he suggested, nodding for her to continue. 

Straightening her back, she carried on with the zipper, letting her delicate fingers graze her exposed skin as she did. With the side undone, the garment seemed to hang on her shoulders awkwardly, though it wasn’t for long as Y/n was soon reaching for the lacy hem, pulling it over her head as gracefully as she could to reveal her simple, white, lace and silk lingerie. The set wasn’t too racy; seamless lace panties with a matching bra that boasted bands of silk at the top. She could easily tell that the sight was having an effect on John though, it was evident by the growing tent straining against his zipper. “See?” He mumbled, laying a heavy palm over his crotch, “Beautiful. Bra next.”

Reaching behind herself, Y/n searched for the fastenings of her bra, the thin fabric rough against her fingers. When she finally found it, she fumbled with it for less than a handful of seconds before she was slipping arms of the smooth straps. At the sight of her breasts, full, perky, and nipples peaked with arousal, John took a long sip of his drink, giving his member a squeeze.

Her panties were the next to go; thin fingers hooking in the waist, shimmying them down her legs, leaving her completely disrobed as she stepped out of them. “Keep your shoes on,” John leaned over to discard his empty glass on the nightstand. Spreading his legs; he invited Y/n to stand between them, the four inches of her heels allowing for him to be in the eye line of her stomach. “Undo my tie, slowly.”

Gulping, thrilled by the idea of finally getting to touch him, Y/n let her nimble fingers edge the knot near his neck loose, savoring every second of it as she undid it. “Now give it to me,” she laid it in his open palm, “Turn around. Does this make you uncomfortable,” he held her wrists firmly, tightening his single handed grip when Y/n wriggled her hands. 

“No Sir,” Y/n peeped, suppressing a shiver when John replaced his calloused touch with the rich fabric of his tie binding her wrists behind her back before guiding her at the hips.

His lips were hot over her navel, feverish kisses making their way lower at a leisurely pace as one of his hands slipped between her thighs. His thumb pressed on her nub, rubbing in circles as his pointer spread her slick moistness around. “You’re so wet already,” John muttered.

His digits worked her slowly and in the interim he nibbled on her satiny skin of her stomach, leaving dark bruises. John kept her against him with his spare palm splayed on her lower back, the only thing that kept her up. Y/n’s short breaths were ragged and whiny, and she fought against the fabric restraining her hands, eager to thread her hands through his perfectly maintained raven mane. The knot he’d made held though, only serving to bruise and burn her skin with every fretful twist.

A lewd whine seeped from her lips as his fingers moved inside her, the way he’d curled them slightly accentuating their every move. They were so pleasurably rough and so stocky that they offered to stretch her in the slightest bit, “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, “You think your tight pussy can take my cock Kitten?”

Y/n’s response was a half hearted moan, her coherence wavering and her stance growing shaky. His thumb, still working her clit, pressed down firmly and when John felt her start contracting around his fingers, he slowed his pace, “Not yet,” he growled lowly, biting down on her skin, surely leaving marks. 

Removing his soaked fingers completely, John drew her attention, locking his eyes with hers as he sucked them clean. “Do you want to taste yourself?” He stood without warning, their proximity so limited that his member pressed urgently against her thigh. 

The kiss was far more intense than the one they’d shared upon entering the suite, John’s tongue boldly moving past the barrier of her teeth, the slightly salty taste of her arousal still evident on his tongue as it swirled erotically around hers. Palming her cunt, John swallowed up her sounds eagerly, “One day I’m gonna eat this pussy out so fucking good, that you’ll cum all over my face.”

“Sir,” Y/n groaned, the plea muffled by John’s lips still on hers.

“Shh,” he urged, turning them before guiding Y/n to the bed. She fell back against the sheets, hair skewing her lust-blurred vision. He’d started undressing; starting with the plastic buttons of his shirt, and Y/n struggled to shake some hair out of her face as she watched; propped up on her elbows. 

John was undoubtedly a sight to behold; broad shoulders and obviously firm biceps with a sturdy physique. On his shoulder, she spotted a tattoo; a large cross, and some more ink peeked out from his back. Y/n hadn’t taken him for the type to have a back covered in ink, though she was quickly learning that he was a man of many layers. Briefly, she wondered what his tattoos meant, though, the thoughts were fleeting as his pants and pale blue boxers fell to the floor.

Her jaw hung slack and words escaped her. If Y/n hadn’t realized it before, she was certainly well aware of the sheer magnificence that was John Wick by then. His manhood stood proudly out of a groomed, dark bush, a clear bead gathered on his swollen, rosy head. Her sex throbbed excitedly and a fresh wave of moisture gathered between her thighs, and Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t eagerly awaiting a time where she could put her mouth on him. 

The hunger in his rich stare was evident as he crawled on top of her, his firm shaft teasing her as it brushed Y/n's arousal. Sinking his arms into the mattress, John started at Y/n's lips, journeying towards her jaw and consequently down the column of her neck. The evidence of John's presence would surely be littered across her skin by the end of the night, though Y/n supposed that his lingering nibbles weren't without intention.

Yearning to feel him, she arched her back, huffing despondently when he hastily grabbed her hips, shoving her back onto the bed. "Patience," John barked, burying his face in the valley of her swollen breasts. His shortened beard burnt her skin, weaning a hiss from her lips and Y/n craved more. She wanted to feel that pleasurable roughness all over her body, have John mark her 

Not releasing his firm hold, John's tongue flicked over her pebbled nipple, eliciting an audible shudder from Y/n. Then, when he closed his mouth over the top of her boob, only to gently drag his teeth along the sensitive skin, goosebumps raised along her arms and legs and Y/n’s eyes slipped closed. Her body resisted his grip, hips fighting to buck forward fruitlessly, the desire for John intense and burning. “We’re gonna have to train you to hold still,” he lifted his mouth to her ear, his hot breath fanning her skin, “Or just keep you tied up,” he bit her lobe before sucking the spot behind her ear. 

Depraved moans filled the room, and John finally reached between them, lining himself up with her entrance before pushing into her, all at once. Y/n’s eyes flew wide open and a hollowed groan parted her lips as John stretched her so wide it burned and she swore she could feel him nestled deep inside her. As patient as he was, so Intune with maximizing the slow build to pleasure, John was proving to be almost selfish once sheathed between her sensitive walls. He rolled his hips aggressively, burying Y/n into the disarrayed sheets. Each thrust evoked a profane yelp to accompany his low, rumbling grunts. The searing heat gathered in their skin and above her, though blurred vision, she could make out his clenched jaw and bared, gritted teeth framed by sweaty hair sticking to his face. 

As he moved, Y/n’s toes clenched in her shoes, the heels pressed into the plush sheets and every time his bulging veins dragged against her and the slight curve of his cock. At some point, he grabbed one of her legs, harshly draping it over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper as her other leg lay crooked on the sea of fine silk. “Sir…” she hitched, incoherent and squeezing her eyes shut as he drilled into her, his balls consistently assaulting her cunt. 

A rumbling growl escaped through his gritted teeth and it wasn't long before John was bending his head, ravaging her neck mercilessly. “So fucking tight,” he gnarred as her body upwards. His sloppy, open mouth kisses and suckles on her were searing and his rough touch, occasionally dragging along her sides, only to once again settle on her hips, were like holy fire lapping at her silken skin. 

Y/n’s wrists protested against John’s tie, the fabric surely leaving bruises to match the rest he was giving her. Every sensation was intensified; the way bulging veins on his girth rubbed her walls, the heat from the pads of his fingers sunken into her damp skin, and the coarseness of his groomed beard brushing and burning the column of her neck. John was a skillfully selfish lover, if one could even call him that; a lover, and it was hard to ward off the crest of gratification that was creeping up on her with each roll of his expert hips. “I wanna feel you cum,” he mumbled between little bites and nibbles, “Let me feel you cum babygirl.”

Her short, hitched breaths grew quicker in succession and the knot in the coil in the pit of her stomach was wound so tight that it was close to snapping. “Please,” she whimpered, her sinful prayer was hoarse and she closed her hands in on themselves, feeling her nails dig into her palms. John bucked his hips violently and Y/n’s heel dug into the mattress just as a  perverted cry left her mouth agape and jaw slack. Writing beneath him, she tossed her head to the side, feeling messy strands fall over her face, sticking to her skin. 

“Look at me,” John demanded, riding through her high, getting close to her face. She could almost taste the bourbon on his breath and his chest was pressed to her swollen breasts, pinning her to the bed. “I want to see you,” he continued, “I wanna see how sexy you look when you squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt.”

Shifting her head, Y/n regarded him through dilated pupils, his image hazy and white spots dancing on her vision as raw pleasure coursed through her veins like fire. Even as she came down, from her high, John proved relentless, pounding into her with unwavering vigor. Sloppy noises joined their vulgar moans and grunts and between her thighs felt sticky with her juices  and soon after her first, Y/n could feel her second orgasm mounting. If it weren’t for the restraint holding her hands back, the knot done so tightly, her hands would have flown to his back, nails sinking into John’s skin.

Her second wave of pleasure crashed over her unexpectedly, leaving Y/n gasping loudly for breath as she arched into John. Simultaneously, his movements went stiff and rigid and John’s heavy grip on her hip went tighter. “Fuck,” he huffed, the word contained low in his throat, features, contorted in ecstasy shrouded by dark hair matted to parts of his face. Bursts of his hot product sprayed against her drenched, pulsating walls in silky ribbons. John bucked his hips in an unmanned rhythm, struggling to keep pace as they fell over the edge. 

Her legs trembled with pleasure and the thick air around them was stifling, befuddling sense and intensifying innate sensations. Ragged, broken words threatened to break her stretch of audible inhales, but they never quite made it and as damp skin almost melted into one. It was hard to hold his gaze with his forehead pressed to hers, his hair ticking her face and their breaths shared as John’s ajar lips hovered over hers. 

Mere minutes after it was over, John detached himself, pecking Y/n near the side of her forehead when she winced as he rolled off her. Swallowing thickly, she eyed him as he seemed to gather himself faster than she could, eventually scooting off the bed, confident enough to approach the drink tray near the wall without slipping into an inch of clothing. As Y/n shuffled around, guarding her modesty with the soft sheets, the fabric feeling weightless on her smooth skin, she winced again as she turned to catch a good look at John. It was all definitely gonna hurt the next day, but for a man like him, the pain was worth it. 

With a glass of water in hand, he approached the bed, easing in next to her before offering Y//n the glass. Mumbling a shy thanks, she brought the thin, tall glass to her lips, where the color had faded. “So?” She sighed hopefully, between brief, quenching sips, “Are we compatible?”

Gazing down at her, John got closer, propping his weight on an elbow before reaching over to tuck a stray lock behind her ear, his large palm lingering on her cheek. “I don’t know,” he squinted, though, just barely, as he regarded her with an indecipherable expression that was hypnotically irresistible. There was something about him, a darkness that resided past those whiskey eyes that thrilled her, it was magical, alluring and she ached to learn it. Discover the man behind the tailored suit; serve him, please him. “You tell me,” John offered.

Leaning into his touch, Y/n resisted the urge to close her eyes. Could it really be as easy as that? In the end, he’d let her choose? And if that was the case, who could ever refuse John? It was completely new to her; unchartered territory and certainly a decision that would warrant far more thought, still she made it impulsively, knowing that even with a weekend’s worth of contemplation, she’d always come up with the same thing. Because even with everything in between; contracts, rules, specifics, it all came back to the simplicity that had led them to a hotel room in Manhattan, he wanted her and she wanted him. “Yeah,” moistening her lips, Y/n restrained her smile, until it seemed that John would let one of his own slip as he came down to kiss her slowly, “I think we’re compatible,” she returned quietly us as his hand tangled in her tresses and his lips found hers.�� 

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #fanfic #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #the arrangement #selfish prayers

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Meant To Be: Part 8

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use

Word Count: 5,139

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you have everything we need?” Colson asked as he walked off stage in Japan after his last of four shows in the country.

“It’s all waiting in the car.” You said with a nod as you popped the locks on Gage’s stroller and turned it toward the exit door. “We gotta hurry.”

“I’m there. I’m there.” He said as he ripped off the battery pack to his headphones and tossed them on top of a speaker on his way out the door.

“Here.” Ashleigh said as she ran up with a small bag that had a change of clothes, a package of body wipes that had decent reviews on Amazon, and his wallet, passport, and cellphone. “Flight leaves in three hours and it’s still on time.”

“Where’s Sawyer?” You asked as you paused at the back door and turned around to look for her.

“I’m here!” She yelled as she came running from the bathroom while fixing her belt as she went. “We’re good.” She said with a nod as she pushed open the back door and stepped out of the way for you.

“Lawyer will be waiting for you at the airport in NC to go over your case.” Ashleigh continued as she followed you out to the waiting car. “I put all the paperwork you need in the diaper bag.”

“And our clothes?”

“I’ve got them in the back.” You said as you stopped at the back door of the SUV and pulled your sleeping son in his carseat off the stroller.

“Here, you don’t need to be lifting that shit.” Colson said as he took the carseat out of your hands and climbed into the back seat with it while Sawyer folded up the stroller and pushed it to the back with your bags.

“Good luck, guys.” Baze said as he stopped at the door and helped you and your slightly significant, 10 week along bump into the car. “We’ll see you in the UK.”

“Don’t kill anyone.” Slim laughed as he shot you a look. “And take care of our babies.”

“As opposed to what, leaving them on the tarmac?” You teased as you buckled in the carseat.

“You got this.” Rook said before kissing his girlfriend goodbye for a few days. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Alright, they gotta go.” Ash said as she pushed everyone back a couple steps to close the doors. You all said your goodbyes, and settled back into the seats for a moment as the driver pulled away from the venue and headed toward the airport.

“OK, check the paperwork again.” Colson said as he pulled open his bag and grabbed the body wipes to get the post concert sweat off his body without a shower.

“It’s all there.” Sawyer said as you turned in your spot and grabbed the diaper bag from the back. “And I threw copies in my bag as well. We’re gunna be…”

“Don’t say we’re gunna be fine.” You snapped as you looked up at her through your lashes as you previously calmer self completely unraveled. “Fuck, can everyone just stop saying that shit. I could lose my fucking son tomorrow and I could be signing my second child straight to my mother’s arms in the same fucking swing. Nothing’s fucking fine, here.”

“OK.” Sawyer said softly, not taking offense to your anger in that moment as you pulled out the paperwork and the outline you had meticulously written out for yourself to go over them again.

“Where are we starting?” Colson asked as he wiped his arms down roughly, to keep himself from shaking with the nervousness you had both felt for the past three weeks since you got the custody papers.

“The DCF case.” You said as you pulled the list free of the paperclip and set it on Gage’s lap between you and Colson. “I have the case notes from the investigator and our social worker and the screened out letter and copies of all of it.”

“Our social worker’s number is on there, right?” Kels asked as he pulled off his jeans and set them aside to ‘wash’ from his hips down.

“I have a copy of her card stapled to both copies of the case notes.” You said as you checked both copies to triple check that the cards were still there.

“Medical’s next?” Colson asked as he glanced at the back of Sawyer’s head to make sure her attention was elsewhere before stripping off his dirty boxers and grabbing clean ones.

“Birth certificate…” You started with a sigh as you moved the DCF paperwork to the bottom of the pile for the next group. “NICU records, hospital records, Cali pediatrician records, North Carolina pediatrician record and notes, Cali number two pediatrician records. Check, check, check, and check.”

“And the records for the new baby?”

“Got those too if the judge needs them.”

“OK.” Colson sighed with a nod as he pulled on his clean shirt and used another one of the wipes to try and get the sweat out of his hair and off his flushed face. “What’s next?”

“Next is Sawyer and her records. Then the video files, and after that is your tour schedules for last and this year, the tour photos, and the receipts for the house and the bus baby proofing.” You looked over at the father of your children as he sighed and let his hands fall into his lap.

“Fuck, man… please don’t take my fucking kids.” A sob caught in your throat and you looked out the window as he reached across to hold your hand on Gage’s stomach. You couldn’t say anything to comfort him, same as there was nothing more he could say to comfort you, and Sawyer simply stayed silent in the seat in front of you. Colson smoked a quick joint, making sure to blow his smoke out the window for you and Gage, and chain smoked two cigarettes in the few minutes it took Sawyer to check herself, you, and Kels in to your flight. With the carseat in one hand and the other on your back, he lead you through the airport behind his body guard, through security, and to the plane.

“I won’t get on another plane without him.” Colson said after nearly an hour of silence as he sat down in his first class seat with Gage in his arms. You looked over at him through stress related exhausted eyes as he brushed his thumb across his son’s cheek. “I’ll cancel the fucking tour, I’ll even fucking catch a charge for murder and live in a third world country with you for the rest of my Goddamn life. But I will not lose my family again. I won’t fucking make it.” You nodded with tears in your eyes as he looked up at you with a shake of his head.

“I’m with you.” You whispered as you put your hand on his knee with a nod. “Even if we have to Bonnie and Clyde the fuck out of this situation, I’m with you.”

“I love you.” He whispered as he shifted in his seat so you could lay your head down on his shoulder to cry yourself to sleep.

“I love you, too.”

——

“Hey, stay with me.” Colson said softly as he reached over and gently pushed on your jaw with his fingers so you would focus on him and not your mother at the next table as you waited for the judge. “Right here, baby girl.”

“I wanna just jump over this fucking table.” You growled under your breath as you held Gage on your lap as he bounced up and down on your slack covered thighs.

“And we’re not doing that because of the kids, right?” He clarified as he moved to purposely catch your eye as he himself fought his own urge to strangle your mother. You both startled the slightest bit when the bailiff told everyone to stand up, and you took a deep breath as you got to your feet for a moment.

“Be seated.” Judge Kevin Bosch said as he took a seat behind the raised bench in the corner of the small room. “We’re here today for a grandparent custodial claim?” He clarified as he looked at the court documentation your mother had submitted. 

“Yes sir.” Her lawyer, whose name you didn’t catch, said with a nod as he organized his papers at his table. “We have documentation proving that Mr. Colson Baker, aka Machine Gun Kelly, aka Kels, aka MGK and Ms. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) have severely neglected their son, Gage Michael Baker since they have left North Carolina and the safe environment my client had offered the child.”

“What evidence?” Judge Bosch asked as he looked up from the file on his desk when Gage started to ask for his juice. Sawyer, who was there to be a witness for you, jumped to her feet behind you and carefully took Gage from over the partition with a smile so that he wouldn’t disrupt the trial.

“She is their nanny, sir.” Your lawyer, Ally clarified for the judge with a smile as she sat almost perfectly still, biding her time until it was her turn to speak because she knew with all of your paperwork there was no way she was losing. The judge nodded his head and took the evidence your mother had brought with her.

“What am I looking at?” He asked as he looked away from Sawyer and Gage as they slipped out the door and down at the photos in his hand.

“Those are the living conditions of my daughter’s apartment.” Your mom said as she sat up a little more in her chair for her turn on the soap box. “Theres a few photos of a bruise on my grandson’s thigh from his father… who he lives with now. And there are a few photos that I had to find on the internet because she refused to let me see my grandson to check on his well being and instead, took him to rock show in the middle of a heat wave where there were drugs and drinking present. You can see my grandson’s father smoking marijuana in most of those photos and doing who knows what other drugs near my grandson. They are not fit parents, your honor.”

“If I may, your honor.” Ally said as she picked up your stack of paperwork. “The apartment that Mrs. (Y/L/N) is referring to is an apartment that my clients have not lived in in four years. I do, however have photographs from an unannounced DCF visit and from the professional company that installed their baby proofing in the house my clients and their son live in now. As far as the bruise Mrs. (Y/L/N) is referring to, I again, have documentation from a pediatrician here in North Carolina and a cell phone video that showed the incident happening. 

Mr. Baker was holding his son in the hotel room they had been staying in as my clients were working out some personal issues. Mr. Baker was dancing with his son and turned a little too sharply and Gage’s leg hit the edge of the bathroom door. Ms. (Y/L/N) and Mr. Baker immediately took their child to his doctor because they were both scared something bigger had happened besides just the simple bruise the child received, which wasn’t the case. We have the rest of the child’s medical records here as well for you to peruse if you so choose showing that there is no other incidents or any indication of physical abuse and that my clients have made and kept every appointment to date with their son’s pediatrician.”

“Let me see those.” Judge Bosch said as he set your moms photos to the side and held his hand out for your paperwork. Ally nodded and picked up the top two and the bottom sections of paper clipped papers to hand to the bailiff.

“The tour…” Colson tried to say but Ally shushed him softly and tapped his arm.

“Just wait.” She whispered as she pat his arm briefly. He nodded his head as you reached out and grabbed his hand when the judge started flipping quickly through your paperwork. Ally waited until he made it to the last packet before continuing. “Now, as far as Mrs. (Y/L/N)’s last point, along with the photos of the work my clients have done on their house, they have also done the same work on Mr. Bakers tour bus.”

“How often do you go on tour, Mr. Baker?” The judge asked as he looked up at Colson.

“It varies… sir.” He said as he sat up impossibly straighter beside you. “I… we actually flew here from Japan where I am on tour right now. Tours last between two and three months… I have a schedule…”

“He goes on tour once maybe twice a year.” You said for him as solidly as you could. “In between tours, occasionally, he makes an appearance at a music festival and he also sponsors his own festival in Ohio. That festival is where I assume the photos my mother found are from. But I also have photos from that weekend that I had put up on my personal Instagram account.” Judge Bosch nodded and held his hand up for the photos, which you and Colson scrambled to grab, along with the tour schedules, copies of all the checks you wrote to Sawyer for watching Gage for you so that there was a paper trail, and the USB drive you had of nearly every home video you had on your and Colson’s phones that involved your son. 

“Our son was never in harms way at that festival.” You continued as you reached for Colson’s hand under the table because you had nothing else left for your case. “Cols… Mr. Baker and I made sure that he had sunscreen applied every hour and a half like the bottle said. We made sure he had fans on him at all times if he wasn’t playing in the RV, he was given juice and water mixed so that he wouldn’t get dehydrated, when I had him in the carrier so that we could see C… Mr. Baker preform, he had noise canceling headphones on the entire time so his hearing wasn’t affected at all…”

“And we have had his hearing checked twice since we got back just to make sure and so we’d know for future shows.” Colson said as he held on to your hand as tightly as you were holding his. “Sir, we are not bad parents. Sure, we have tattoos, and we don’t work your typical nine to five gig. Yes, she used to model for Penthouse and I have a recording studio in my house that I sometimes spend a little too much time in… but Gage isn’t in any danger with us. In fact, that kid is probably safer with our crazy, over protective asses than he would be with anyone else…”

“Please watch your language, Mr. Baker.” The judge said as he set down all the papers and looked up at the two of you. Colson nodded his head and you sat forward as a single tear spilled over on your cheek.

“Sir, please. Please don’t take our son away from us. I am not the horrible mother my own mother is trying to make me out to be, and Colson is not an abusive father either. Our only fault here is we smoke a little weed after Gage goes to bed or when we know someone else is with him that can be more responsible than we can be for a few hours since it’s legal in California. But sir, we have both fought through a lot of personal shhhhh… stuff to make sure that he is a safe, healthy, loved little boy. Please… just watch the videos. Watch them and then tell me that we have not done everything we can to be the best parents we can be. Please…”

“We’re gunna take a short recess.” The judge said as he collected all of the documents you had brought him. “I have a lot to look over.” You bobbed your head in agreement and only made it part of the way out of your chair when the judge exited, before you simply collapsed back down in your chair.

“I can’t fucking do this.” You sighed, before your head whipped up at your favorite ‘Mama’ in the entire world. You forced a smile on your face and stood up as Sawyer walked down the far side of the benches in the back of the room with Gage on her hip.

“Hey baby boy.” You cooed as you took him from your friend and sat back down in your chair. “Did you have your juice? And did you get it all over your nice shirt?” You laughed as you turned your son around to face his dad. “This is all you.”

“Oh, that is so not all me.” Colson huffed as he held on to Gage’s hands so he could walk down your thighs and onto his. “Have you ever seen you eat ice cream in bed?”

“We watched the ducks.” Sawyer said with a giggle as you scowled at your boyfriend. “And we had juice and one of the ladies at the desk gave us a package of those cheese crackers he loves.”

“You mean the ones you love that you give my son so you can eat them?” You teased as you sat back in your chair and folded your hands on your bump.

“Yea, those ones.” You nodded your head slowly and slowly rocked yourself back and forth, while trying to force yourself not to look over at your mother. 

“Can I ask how it went?”

“It went.” Colson sighed as he stood up to grab a book from the diaper bag beside your friend to pass the time. 

“We gave him everything we had, shy of getting on our knees to suck his cock.” You said as you looked over at her. “And now all I can think about is what more we could have done.”

“You can’t think like that.” Ally said as she scooted her chair back and turned toward you. “We have a very strong case here. You and your lawyer did a very good job of setting it up.”

“Yea, but we’re tattooed parents that travel the world and take our clothes off for a living.” Colson said as he flipped the page so Gage could keep ‘reading’ to the pair of you.

“And that doesn’t make you bad parents.” Ally replied. “Especially with what I have seen the last couple days going over everything you sent me.”

“Guess we’ll wait and see.” You sighed as you propped your head up on your fist and moved your eyes to your son’s cherub face until they told you that you wouldn’t be able to look anymore.

——

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your legs to move to bring yourself vertical. The only thing you could do was shake your head and cry, like you had been doing for nearly thirty minutes since you saw a man from the North Carolina DCF walk into the back of the court room to sit and wait.

“Be seated.” Judge Bosch said as he sat down with the stacks of papers you and your mom had given him in one hand and the USB stick in the other. “Give that back to them.” You looked up for a moment at the bailiff as he returned your flash drive while the judge looked at Gage, who was contently eating goldfish one at a time at a nearly glacial pace because he was distracted by ‘Word World’ on your old iPad to keep him calm. Colson nervously reached out and held on to your knee under the table in preparation for the worst.

“You know… I have been doing this job for thirty seven years. I have seen thousands of family walk through those doors for so many different reasons, and hundreds of them were grandparents looking to give their grandchildren a better life than the one they have. But usually, the cases that are presented to my court room are worth my time. This is not one of those cases. This…” He sighed as he held up all the paperwork in his hand. “Was easily an open and closed case in my eyes.” Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest and you buried your face in Gage’s hair while Colson’s grip tightened even more on your knee as his hands started to shake.

“Now, I may not agree with your choice of lifestyle, Mr. Baker, but after looking at all the paperwork and all the videos and photos you and Ms. (Y/L/N) have presented, I honestly had to wonder if my own children would be considered neglected by the impressive parenting style the two of you have.” Your heart started beating faster and your hand flew out to hold Colson’s wrist as you both waited for the other shoe to drop. “Mrs. (Y/L/N), I don’t know what your intention here was, but my assumption is you have successfully managed to sever any familial ties you had with your daughter and your grandson after this. Mr. Baker… Ms. (Y/L/N)… I won’t waste any more of your time here. Take your son home.” The moment the words left his mouth, you let out a strangled, choked sob and hugged your son even closer to your chest. Colson whipped around in his chair and fell over with his head on your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.” He choked as he kissed the side of Gage’s head. “Holy fuck.”

“You can take him home.” Ally said softly as she crouched down beside you to say good bye. “Your case is closed. She can never take him from you.”

“Thank you.” Colson choked out as you started planting kisses on every inch of Gage’s face that you could reach.

“Mama!” He screeched as he tried to push your face away, annoyed with you at the moment and just wanting to watch his show.

“Hey guys, we gotta flight to catch.” Sawyer said softly behind you as she put your and her purse and the diaper bag on her shoulder. “And a crew to update.”

“OK, we’re coming.” You said with a sniffle as you finally found your feet and stood up. There was a little shuffle of putting away the goldfish container and the iPad away, which your son was not happy about.

“Hey, you’re getting fuckin’ spoiled with all this TV.” Colson huffed as he took Gage from you so he wouldn’t hurt the baby with his flailing kicks. “We gotta get you back outside… oh, you can quit with the whiny bullshit, bubba. You know Daddy ain’t playin.” He blew a raspberry on his son’s cheek, startling him mid-cry, before he tossed him up in the air a few inches. Gage squealed and forgot all about his show as you took your purse from Sawyer and headed out of the court room while wiping the tears off your face. Your mother managed to catch your eye in the main hall and she daringly took a couple steps toward you.

“Do not speak to me.” You said evenly with a shake of your head. “How fucking dare you.”

“Fuck you, Marie.” Colson said as he put Gage on his hip and stepped back to push you in front of him. “Fuck you.”

“That boy deserves to have God in his life.” She called out after you. “He doesn’t need to grow up worshipping Satan!”

“Excuse me?!” You screamed as you came to a dead stop and whipped around toward her. “I know you did not just fucking say that to me.”

“Let me raise him in the church.” She begged as Colson quickly passed off Gage and grabbed your arm. “He’s better off.”

“He’s better off with his mother.” He growled through his teeth as evenly as he could, despite the fact that he was literally shaking with rage. “He is better off as far away from you as physically possible.”

“How could you even think this would go over well for you?” You asked as Ally came running over from where she was talking to her next client about his case. “What, did you just expect that I would come running back home, that I would run away from Colson, to be with my son after you stole him from me? Bitch, you must be fucking damaged.”

“OK, let’s just walk away.” Ally said as she took a couple steps in front of you, which only made you lean to the side to keep glaring at your mother.

“Even if we had been the worst parents in the world, I would fight every fucking day for the rest of my life to get my kids away from you. And if it was just Kels that was the issue, I’m sure he would agree with me that we’d go our separate ways if it was what was best for our family. But after what you try to do to dad because of Anne and then to your own daughter?! Bitch, you are the last fucking person I would let raise my kids. I’d even let Junior’s dumb ass raise them before you did.”

“Come on, we need to go now.” Sawyer tried as she pulled back on your arm to try to turn you around.

“Expect a fucking restraining order, bitch.” You barked as you finally caved in and turned away. “Because you will never see my babies again. Fucking Satan worshipers. Are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m gunna fucking hit her.” Colson said as he shot your mother one last look before turning to follow you out of the court house.

“She ain’t even worth the charge you’d catch.” You sighed as you reached out to take Gage to calm yourself down. “Right? Say I just don’t have a grandma anymore. Simple as that. Wanna go bye bye?”

“Still wanna fucking hit her.” Colson grumbled again as he held your arm to help you down the narrow stairs in heels.

“Not if I kill her first.” You cooed in a sing song voice and turned to head toward your rental car to head to the UK for the next week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You only lasted a week on tour, before switching time zones with a toddler while pregnant became to much to handle. So with a ‘quit while you’re ahead’ attitude, you flew back to LA with Sawyer, who was working hard to meet a strict deadline anyways. But that move was apparently not one of your smartest.

“Look, it’s Daddy!” You cooed to your son over his tears as you laid with him in your bed, trying to convince him to go to bed while he fought bed time tooth and nail through his exhaustion. You held your phone up in front of his face with the FaceTime video playing as loud as it would go, as Colson wiped the sleep from his half opened eyes to try to help.

���Main man Gage.” He croaked before clearing his throat. “Hey, buddy. What the fuck, man? It’s bed time. Hey...”

“No!!” You son screamed as he tossed on the bed beside you.

“I’m just waiting for the sleep gummy to kick in at this point.” You sighed as you whacked your son’s feet away from your stomach. “Quit, you little shit.”

“We’re such good parents.” He huffed as he propped his phone up on the pillow beside him so he didn’t have to hold it. “I think you should just come back here. I’ll get him to fucking sleep. Just knock him upside the head.”

“Is that an option now?” You joked with a tired smile. “Should I try it? My Harley Quinn bat is somewhere around here.”

“Do not knock my son upside the head.” He laughed as you reached out and pulled your child up to your chest in a vain attempt to stop his tantrum. “Or should I say don’t do it unless I’m there to witness it.”

“‘Bout to smother his ass with your pillow.” You muttered as you kissed your now simply crying son’s head. “He’s been pulling this shit since we landed three hours ago.”

“Why are you just now calling then?” He asked as you propped your phone up with a pillow so that Gage could see his dad, too now that he had stopped thrashing.

“Didn’t wanna wake you until I knew he was about to pass out. Cause we both know Daddy needs much more beauty sleep than Mommy does. With those bags, and all those wrinkles startin’.”

“Fuck you.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “Your ass is the one that’s got wrinkles.”

“My ass is perfect, thank you.” You huffed as you adjusted your head on the pillow. “And I grow people so I’ll always be more beautiful.”

“OK, so you got me there.” He conceded. “Hey little man, you ready for sleepies?” You felt your son nod slowly against your chest, and you picked up your head to look at him while Colson sat up the slightest bit. He started singing ‘Good Night, Gage’, a song he wrote specifically for your son, that was guaranteed to knock him out completely, and sure enough, he didn’t make it to the chorus before your son was finally passed out in front of you.

“You’re a miracle worker, Colson. Swear to God.”

“I try.” He sighed as he laid back down to go back to sleep. “I miss you two.”

“We miss you, too.” You said with a nod. “And we love you.”

“Love you guys, too. I’ll call you in the morning, ‘K?”

“We’ll be here. Hopefully well rested.”

“I’m sure you will be. He’s had a hell of a time switching time zones like we’ve had to.”

“I know.” You sighed with a nod. “Which is why we came home.”

“I know. Alright, I love you. I gotta get some more sleep.”

“I know, Love you, too.” You blew him a kiss, which he returned to you before taking one last look at the loves of his life and hanging up the call for the night. You lasted just long enough to plug your phone in, turn off the light, and move your son to his spot in the middle of the bed before passing out for the most glorious ten hours of sleep you thought you ever had.

Part 9

#meant to be #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker x reader

[nightklok]

28 Chickles?

76 Kiss Prompts [Open]

Is it cheating if I use an old prompt meme to complete today’s prompt? Probably but I had a majority of this written out so might as well finish it! Thank you for requesting this and sorry it’s a bit late! :O

Kloktober Prompt: Day 14-Preklok Whumptober Prompt: No 27-Power Outage

28. First kiss

It was the first band Pickles joined a few years after Snakes N’ Barrels disbanded. It was a band that would disband not long after being signed and before they could even produce their first album. The genre didn’t felt like it belonged to him compared to his previous band’s genre and it felt more like a job than anything else. However, it paid the bills and got him to at least work with music once again. Even if it felt like he was once again working from the bottom up, at least he wasn’t entirely lost and was knowledgeable on how the music industry was. He hadn’t really tried to get back into making music after Snakes N’ Barrels disbanded. Despite the offers from various groups, he had ignored them all without even giving a response. He ended up shifting from a music-related job to a non-music related job and dealing with the horrible addictions that never left his side. As if by fate, it took one DUI related charge to end up having Charles Foster Offdensen, a freshly graduated law student, to take his case. Somehow, he ended up winning that trial and Charles asked for no money but simply to be his manager and lawyer. It was honestly laughable. He hadn’t worked with bands or even gone solo so how could someone even want to risk their career by being associated with him? He was serious and spoke in a way that meant he looked at every outcome and wanted it regardless. It took a few days of convincing and Pickles agreed even though he was sure he was a lost cause (pun intended). His new manager proved his worth and got him band auditions fairly quickly as a lead singer. As quickly as they happened, they quickly ended successfully with tons of accepted phone calls. Pickles never really did felt like he fit in with any of them, however. There was no spark he felt playing with them like with his previous band and he was wondering if it was worth straggling in some newly licensed lawyer to his troubles. Charles never did judge him though unlike his previous managers. He listened to his complaints and how he felt with an open mind and tried to adjust the best he could. However, he had a feeling that most likely the ‘heavy’ sound Pickles was looking for wouldn’t be available or at least for the moment. At the advice given, he had accepted the offer from the next band he passed the audition for. It was a rock band that was a bit heavier sounding but it was better than the other bands, and he tried to make his peace with that. It didn’t take long for them to record a single, send it to record labels, and soon get signed. He thought he would be happy that a record label signed onto their band so quickly but he found himself not feeling that euphoria once felt when his first band was signed. The moment he signed his name on that contract, it felt like he was just signing up for a job above all else. The fear that perhaps he just simply overstayed his welcome and would never be able to make music again was running through his head. If not music, then what else was there for him? As the other band members began pestering the poor secretary for directions to the nearest bar, Charles trailed behind to keep up with Pickles. He wanted to say something; he could tell he didn’t seem happy but the only words that came out of his mouth were, “Well, ah, how about I buy you a drink? To celebrate?” That seemed to be enough for Pickles as he turned to look at him with a small smile, “A free drink and getting signed? Sounds like a good day to me.”                                                          ____ If Pickles had to be reminded further that the band most likely had the same behaviors as his previous one, it was their excessive drinking and somehow finding someone to buy coke off before the drinks even arrived. Within minutes, they were already high, and trying to out drink the other. Even for Pickles’ standards, they weren’t worth trying to keep up with. Pickles sat alongside him, taking advantage of the free nuts that were provided as he drank his beer. He was surprisingly quiet for once; he barely spoke a word since they arrived and mainly just asked the bartender for more drinks. Charles didn’t say anything either. Not that he didn’t want to but what could be said when he’s forced to watch his new clients already drink their first potential paycheck away? Like watching the same movie for the umpteenth time, unsurprisingly came the women and men. He found himself not even surprised when one by one his new bandmates began leaving with said people. They were either making out with them, taking them to one of the bathrooms, or leaving the bar altogether to some nearby hotel or something. That didn’t mean he wasn’t asked to go along. An occasional bandmate would remember he existed or one of the people drunkenly recognized him and asked him to join. He was reminded way too much of the nights spent in shitty hotels with people whose faces he’d barely even remember. It felt like as he aged those memories became less and less positively memorable and only left a bad taste in his mouth. He politely declined and watched his last bandmate leave the bar with some girl close by him. He was ready to leave to go home himself, “I guess we should call it a night,” He finished his beer quickly, ready to pull out his wallet. “I did say I would be paying,” Charles answered as he pulled out his own wallet, “And if you’d like, we can go to my place. It’s quieter and we can discuss a bit about the meeting with the record execs tomorrow.” “You did say it was for only my drink. Not the rest of the guys,” He grinned at him as if having won some game of thinking one step ahead, “But sure, could use some company.” There was a slight back and forth over who was paying the tab but eventually settled on a compromise that they would pay for half of it as they both knew the other bandmates would never pay them back. Hopefully, the revenue from the new album would be more than enough to cover that expensive tab. The two walked out of the bar and into the pouring rain that almost came out of nowhere. And unfortunately, Charles’ car was parked at least four blocks from the bar. Even though he had offered to make the run himself and drive back to get him, Pickles went with him. He hadn’t drunk himself to oblivion and at least didn’t slip on the mud or complain about getting wet. By the time they reached his car, they were soaked to the point where air-drying wasn’t much of an option. Charles had to turn on the AC to prevent the windows from fogging up. The cool air, even if it was as low and away from them as much as possible, did nothing to help relieve them from being soaking wet and cold. He didn’t have a blanket or anything with him, so he had to hope for the best that a near-half-hour drive wouldn’t result in them getting sick, “Sorry, I have to keep the AC on for a while.” “It’s fine. Do you have clothes I can borrow when we get to your place?” “Of course.” Between the sound of rain hitting against the car, the windshield wipers, and some Creedence Clearwater Revival song playing from the radio, it filled the silence when they didn’t talk. What they did talk about was trivial things or light jokes about getting sick. It had eventually died down when Pickles quietly dozed off. They reached the apartment a bit longer than usual because of the rain and sudden heavy traffic. Pickles had woken up just as Charles was beginning to park his car in the lot. He stretched as he got out of the car, adjusting his wet clothes that must’ve stuck to his skin like glue. To say he was cold was an understatement but the beers he drank thankfully didn’t keep him from freezing. The elevator was working this time and there was no one else there or when they reached his floor. It was as silent and eerie as walking into some unfamiliar hallway at night could be. The sound of wet shoes and socks against the floor was audibly heard, squeaking against the floor but was muffled by the bolt of lightning that came by. Even though it wouldn’t make much of a difference aside from mud, Charles told him to take off his shoes and leave it by the doorway when he unlocked the door to his apartment and let him in. As directed, he took off his shoes and left it to the side as the other did the same. His apartment was as ordinary as it looked for a lawyer just starting out. Nicely put together furniture and decorations that did make the place look a bit more put together. Maybe it was all Ikea furniture or something, Pickles wasn’t really one to keep track of furniture brands and shit. Either way, it looked nice and inviting to him compared to his own shitty studio apartment. He followed him to his bedroom where he had shown him a drawer that was full of warmer clothes. He found an old college sweatshirt and pants to go with. It’d probably be loose on him but anything was better than the wet clothing that was only reminding him further of how cold he was. Charles showed him where the bathroom was to change, “You can leave the clothes by the sink, I’ll throw them in the wash. Make yourself at home,” He told him before he went to his room to change. He put on whatever casual clothing he had and towel-dried his hair as much as he could. It was still damp to the touch, but he could live with that. He did see the bathroom was open when he stepped out, grabbing his clothes and putting them in the hamper. He’d take them to the washing machines downstairs when he got the chance. He went to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses, and poured brandy in both of them. Coffee or tea was his usual go-to when he had guests over but he knew Pickles enough on what he would prefer,  and that was neither most of the time. He found Pickles in the living room, staring at the collection of law textbooks and framed awards that were either in the bookcase or framed near it. “You did fencing in college?” He asked as he looked at one of the plaques on the wall. He took the brandy Charles offered with a quick ‘thanks’. “Yes, actually. I was president there for the last, ah, two, or three years of college.” “Wow. You’re really full of surprises.” He laughed. “How so?” “Well, you’re some lawyer who wants to be a manager and for a has-been like me. That’s gotta be costing you more than if you just stayed as a lawyer. Recording that single must’ve not been cheap. And that bar tab either. ” “I’ll admit these expenses weren’t cheap but I have had money put aside for it. We’re signed now, so I’ll be getting that money back soon.” He answered. “You’re a little too optimistic about this, chief. You’ll be lucky if we even get a hit single.” “Well, it’s a risk, isn’t it? Working at an industry like this is a risk and I’m well aware of that. I might get that money back. I might not. We’ll see.” He answered, “but I suppose that’s where you come in if you want me to get my money back.” Maybe, it was the beer, brandy, and the eventual sickness looming over but it was hard to take him seriously, “You’re really putting so much confidence in me that it’s funny, really. Y’know there are people I know that do what you’re doing and before you know it, they’re stuck working at 9 to 5 jobs down at Santa Monica instead of retiring. At least you’re...like the same age as me? I won’t fuck your life up that much.” “You’re not gonna fuck up my life. I have a plan for this, Pickles. If the next band doesn’t work out, we can try another. You still have a name-” “A name?” He laughed bitterly, “What name, Charles? The one where the news talk about me with a DUI charge? Or a drug overdose? Or the one who sang for some stupid band with a stupid genre that’s clearly a joke now! Hair metal. that’s what they call it now! What kinda person would take someone who sang for hair metal seriously?” Charles knew he was right. His name in headlines was almost never for anything good. But all it took was one look in him to see that he still had...something. Something that not a lot of musicians had and something he’s probably yet to discover himself, “But you still have a chance, don’t you? You still have a voice to sing with and that should be more than enough to make a new name for yourself. The only person isn’t really believing this is you.” “What do I have to believe in myself for, Charles?” He shook his head as if he had mentally answered his own question, “God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have let you get dragged with me. I should just go and quit or something. I’ll be saving you a lot more time and money if I just-” The lights flickered for just a moment but a clap of thunder quickly shut them off. Charles cursed under his breath as he went over to one of the switches to flick them on and off. It was completely off, “Guess we’re stuck like this for a while.” “Just fantastic,” Pickles muttered. He finished the rest of his brandy, “Look, I’ll just go. Save yourself the trouble-” “It’s literally pouring out and you’re drunk. I’m not letting you leave,” He answered. He watched his expression and sighed, “But clearly...there are things that you need to talk about, right? I mean...if you really did want to quit music altogether, why did you say yes when I asked to work for you?” He wanted to say it was just because he wanted to humor him. But even then, was it really the answer? He looked down as he shrugged, running his hand through his hair, "I dunno. I guess I thought I was getting a second chance. Some good job I’m doing at keeping that second chance, aren’t I?"

“I think you’re doing well with what you can do. It’s just hard to find a good band to blend with nowadays I suppose,” Charles said. He approached him closer. He wanted to help him but he was scared of having him run off when he was so close to having him open up to him, “But you still have the same potential as you did when you started in the band.” But you clearly need to work out whatever you’re going through just let me help you-

Pickles at least didn’t try to leave and instead agreed to coffee. He sat in the kitchen chair as Charles boiled water on the gas stove. There was a comfortable silence between them as they didn’t say anything and only listened to the relentless rain hitting against the window and the thunder that occasionally sounded. He poured the water and instant coffee to two mugs, letting him use the milk and sugar to his liking which was borderline sweet.

Charles used the rest of the milk for his coffee and threw the carton out. He sat in the chair opposite him, taking a sip of his coffee that quickly warmed him up. Pickles didn’t say anything and he didn’t want to pry so he didn’t say anything either.

“Can I ask you something?” Pickles asked as he stared at the mug. He couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Sure.”

“Why did you wanna work for me? Any other band or celebrity with a cleaner record could easily take you in.”

It was a question that Charles knew would come up inevitably and he had prepared for it in advanced. Prepared professional and cordial sentences that might not mean much but would at least mean something meaningful to Pickles. Though, that was with the implication that they would’ve been in some professional setting. Not in his apartment with Pickles wearing his old clothes and after he had probably poured out more of his feelings than he had intended to. It was only fair he did the same, “Well, to put it bluntly, your music saved my life and I only wanted to return the favor I suppose.”

Whatever Pickles had expected, definitely wasn’t that. He looked up to meet his eyes, green eyes somehow illuminated by whatever light the window gave. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I was a teen too when you started with the band. Probably just as angry and misunderstood as you were. Didn’t have a family or really anybody to turn to or much hope for my future. I just never understood when people said that music saved their life. Until I came across that first album and I really understood the feeling. It was made me decide to go into music business though I honestly admit I didn’t expect to ever be working with you until I was assigned your case.”

“And I’m guessing you took it as a sign or something?”

“Something like that. I mean, I would’ve been working for someone who basically shaped my career. It would be ironic, wouldn’t it be?”

Pickles was silent afterwords for a good while. Most likely to take the words in and realize just how much Charles meant it when he promised him he would find him a band and get his career started again. Charles was legit. Charles wasn’t saying this to get something out of him. He was being genuine and it brought in a whole new swarm of thoughts he hadn’t thought of in a long time. He looked at him with a sad smile that told a thousand words even if he said only ten, “I wish we met earlier. We could’ve had fun together,”

He must’ve been lonely, Charles quickly realized. And it was for good reason too; his band members were nearly a decade or so older than him and he most likely never talked with people around his age. As fun as it must’ve been getting to feel like an adult talking with adults, it could get tiring too and sometimes makes one wish they spoke about bullshit to someone their age. He knew that all too well, “Me too. But, at least we know each other now and I promise that it’s only going to get better from here.”

“You really believe in me, don’t you?” Pickles asked.

If the months and money and time Charles did wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what would. He knew that sometimes words just confirmed the actions so he nodded, “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be taking such a risk if I didn’t.”

What he didn’t expect to happen though was for Pickles to being to cry. He had his hands on his face, elbows on the table, and tried not to show he was crying. But his sniffles and tears seeping through his hands easily gave it away. The tears weren’t of sadness and Charles knew that well enough. It was enough though for him to still go over to him and hold onto him tightly. He felt him wrap his arms tightly around him as the cries turned to sobs as he let however many years of pent up feelings and loneliness finally resurface and wash away like the rain.

Eventually, they pulled away. There were no other words that really needed to be said. It was just one look that said what they wanted to say but neither had the words to say it. It was Pickles that kissed Charles. It wasn’t those kisses that were meaningless and full of absolute desperation and hastily made to get on to the point. It was full of a tenderness and warmth that neither hadn’t felt before or for a long way. It was warm and against the coldness of the apartment from the rain and darkness, it was enough.

                                                        ____

They lied down in Charles’ bed with a blanket covering them. Even if the room was a bit chilly, the warmth from the blanket and each other was more than enough.

“You could always go solo.” Charles said as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I guess...but I’m kinda tired of being in the spotlight. I mean, I like it and all but being at the center of it? Gets exhausting.” “Hm, there’s guitar auditions you can always do. You can always do that,” Charles pointed out.

They know it’s not gonna last. The band, that is. Most likely the band would fizzle out into obscurity and never be remembered within a month.

“True. Probably still have my Les Paul in my apartment somewhere.”

Charles honestly wished he could make him actually be happy. He did know that this was a problem he couldn’t exactly fix. As much as he wished he could be, there was a limit and he was sure he already was nearing it. He could only help as much as he could and be content with it; convincing Pickles to get back into music and letting him take direction in how he wanted to pursue music was one of the only things he could do. Being there for him, not as a manager/lawyer, but as someone who cared for him on a personal level also was something he could do. And he could do both; he was great at multitasking. “For the next band, I wanna play drums. I wanna be in the background this time,” Pickles murmured sleepily as he wrapped an arm around him.

“I’ll look into drum auditions tomorrow,” Charles answered. He would’ve protested at them breaking boundaries, it certainly wasn’t professional, but who conducted meetings in bed anyway? He held onto him, feeling the slight dampness of his dreads that were still not completely dry but didn’t care. Mentally, he reminded himself to find that newspaper he looked at the other day. He vaguely remembered an ad trying to find a drummer for some metal band. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too late and that they would need a lawyer or manager as well.

The rain was still pouring and the power wouldn’t come back on until just a few hours later. But for at the moment, neither of those things really did matter. They held each other in silence, listening to the rain as eventually they fell asleep.

#kloktober #Caffeinated Insomniac Writings #chickles #metalocalypse fics #Thanks again for requesting this!!! #whumptober #fic #I will post this to AO3 later for now I write something else- #wumbo-calling #pickles the drummer #I had to rewrite some scenes because I completely forgot about the first kiss holy shit how stupid am i #I will refix this in AO3 but for now just enjoy the hastily added paragraph

[fullmetalscullyy]

Hey there! So Ive read like the entirety of your "Royai Collections", and chapter 28 made me double over in laughter! Do you think you could do another crack-fic? I need a break from reading angst 24/7 lmao, tysm

i’ve been trying to sleep for like 2 hours so i went on my phone to try tire myself out, saw this ask, and this idea came to me so quickly lmao i hope u like it and i hope its okay 💖 thank u sm for the ask anon!! and thank u for reading 💕

rated: t | words: 806

read on ao3

"Lieutenant –"

"Shut up," Hawkeye barked before he could even finish saying the word.

Roy sighed and lifted one arm up over his head, bringing the hand to rest behind his head as he shifted in place to make himself more comfortable. It was not the most ideal situation to be in, but they were both adults. They would deal with it.

Sighing again was another mistake.

"Shut up!" Hawkeye hissed next to him.

"I didn't say anything!" he protested.

"You sighed."

"So, what? Now I'm not allowed to breathe?"

"No."

Roy scoffed.

"No, you're not," Hawkeye ground out. "Because it's irritating and I'm trying to sleep."

He fell silent, making a point to exhale loudly through his nose. Hawkeye stiffened beside him and Roy could’ve sworn he heard her growl. Well, two could play at the "being petty while irritated" game.

Silence fell and Roy knew sleep wasn't going to come to him. He was too alert. He was too aware of his position inside this hotel room... And his Lieutenant's position in the room as well.

It was a while before anyone made any sound. Roy had ended up lost in thought, staring up at the flaking paint on the ceiling above him.

"Lieutenant, are you asleep?" he whispered.

"Yes," she barked.

"No, you're not."

"Sir, if you do not stop talking I will chokeslam you through the desk across the room."

Roy spluttered at her threat. But to be perfectly honest, she would probably follow through.

"I just want to talk," he reasoned.

"What could we possibly discuss right now that can't wait until morning?"

"I don't know," he finally answered after a struggle. "I just –"

"Sir," she interrupted him, although the heat of her glare was enough to bring him pause too once she'd sat up and turned around to face him. "Go. To. Sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow and need all the rest we can get."

"But –" he interjected, sitting up from lying down on the bed they currently had to share.

"Oh my God."

Abruptly, Hawkeye stood and grabbed a pillow angrily. She stomped around the bed and grabbed one of the decorative blankets the hotel had provided to cover the bed.

"Where are you going?" Roy frowned.

Hawkeye just glared at him as she threw her pillow onto the floor then crouched, disappearing from view.

"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor," he exclaimed.

"I'm perfectly happy here. Much happier, in fact."

"Lieutenant, get in the bed."

"No."

"Lieutenant –"

"I'm comfortable," she lied, pulling a thin blanket up over her shoulder and closing her eyes in defiance. "And I'm not moving again."

"Hawkeye, this is an order," he growled, his temper rising exponentially.

"Go to sleep!"

Roy threw the sheet off his body and jumped out of bed. Hawkeye's eyes popped open at the sudden commotion, and she frowned as she watched him approach.

"If you refuse to sleep in the bed and want to subject yourself to the cold and uncomfortable floor, then I will too," he huffed. Roy had already felt himself shiver from the cold but remained steadfast in his resolve.

"What?"

"I mean it," he stated confidently. "If you're going to be this petty –"

"Petty?" Hawkeye echoed, offended.

"Yes."

"I just want to sleep!" she exploded, but she didn't raise her voice too high. She did, however, forcefully shove herself up and into a seated position. "You're the one who won't shut up and who keeps fidgeting! How can I fall asleep when you've got ants in your pants just a foot away from me? It's like trying to sleep during an earthquake!"

"I'm sorry!" he replied, volume of his voice rising, but Roy caught himself. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his tone much more civil. "I didn't realise I fidgeted a lot in bed. I was just... nervous. And I was worried about doing something that could be construed as unprofessional. It wouldn't be intentional, of course, but it’s still not an ideal situation," he added. "I apologise."

The room was silent as Hawkeye regarded him. Although, it felt like he was on trial, waiting for her verdict.

"Fine," she relented sourly. "But if you start squirming again, it's your ass on the floor, not mine."

Roy frowned. "That's not fair," he began without thinking but Hawkeye's expression quickly had him backpedalling. "All right! All right, sorry. Okay, I will."

Tentatively, Roy re-entered the bed they'd found themselves in for the night. It was just one night. He could survive one night with Hawkeye sleeping next to him, couldn't he? It wasn't the first time it had happened...

Yeah... He'd be fine, right?

roy: breathes

riza: chokeslammed thru a desk. obliterated, sir.

#idk what its done to the formatting lololol but its all underneath the read more #royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #ask #anon #fic request #writing prompts #emma writes

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Taking in the sights of Golden City

The Golden City sure is bright! Everything about it is so fascinating - the architecture, the roads, the trees - the place doesn't seem real. From traveling via whale taxi to the floating buildings and crystalline gazebos, it's no wonder Golden City is on top of many people's must see places before they die - mine included.

Seeing that Golden City seems to be in a world of its own, I never expected to run across a familiar face there - especially one who's currently in the process of renovating an old building to turn into her very own company. I've heard rumors but to see it actually happen - it seems so unreal.

Who would've thought that Ginko Okabe, director of a big marketing company, would start her own thing? And her business partner happens to be Benji Yoshino, a big hotshot tech genius. They crossed paths when Benji met up with the higher ups at Ginko's old workplace and at the time he happened to be acquainted with Manaka. Throw in Shiran then you've got three unlikely people who somehow ended up being friends with such a high profile figure.

Ginko's been super busy with the move from the metropolitan, strictly business city of Hailstorm Bay to the glowing, almost otherworldly place of Golden City. Now that her apartment's all set, the next step is getting the office building ready. So she and her friends have been busy with that for the past week.

With things moving smoothly, Ginko figured that they could all use a break. After all, it's not easy taking an hour long train to Golden City after a 9 to 5 shift to help clean up an old building as well as move furniture. She didn't expect her former coworkers to step up like that but they wouldn't let her hire a bunch of strangers to put her office together. With her giving them an opportunity to leave their monotonous, unfulfilling, (and sometimes toxic) work environment to be a part of her team, doing the heavy lifting was their way of thanking her.

Before heading out to meet up with Benji and Shiran, Ginko gave us a tour of the office. It's one thing to see snippets of the renovation on social media, it's another to see how much progress has been made in a week. What was once an old, run down building will soon be bustling with activity.

After seeing the office, we headed to the cafe and caught up with Benji and Shiran. They've been dating for a while but it wasn't until recently they were open about it. We all kinda suspected it so it wasn't a surprise when they made it official. First Manaka, now Shiran, what is it about diligent working class accountants that would draw in a wealthy, head in the clouds, tech genius like Benji?

How the former accountant and the eccentric millionaire came to be together is one of those stories where it all came down to chance. Benji first met Manaka through skydiving classes. Then they ran into each other again by chance on the streets around the same time he was installing a new security system for the company. Eventually word got out about their relationship, forcing Manaka to lay low for a while - which is partly why he and Shiran kept things under wraps for a long time. While they got along well, they didn't always meet eye to eye, especially about their futures. Manaka wanted stability while Benji jumped from one thing to another - it wasn't meant to be.

Running into Shiran was also a chance encounter. Shiran was interested in Manaka but the feeling wasn't mutual. The two met in college and ended up working in the same place, but aside from the office, they rarely saw each other outside of that. It took a while but Shiran was able to accept that while he and Manaka grew to become good friends, a romance wasn't in the cards for them.

Shiran and Benji literally bumped into each other on the streets and from there an unlikely friendship came about. Shiran was in awe of Benji at first because of his achievements, then slightly jealous when he found out he was dating Manaka, and then cool with him after the mutual breakup. Ginko was surprised to find them causally hanging out together. Soon the duo became a trio.

Things haven't been the same since Manaka's death. A series of workplace safety violations resulted in an explosion that injured many, even killing a few. Manaka, Shiran, and three other people were trapped in the basement, which was on the verge of collapsing, complicating the rescue. All five were rescued and taken to the hospital, where Manaka later died of her injuries. It happened suddenly, totally unexpected as she was fully conscious, alert, and walking when they found her.

Shiran fell into a deep depression for a while, leading to other problems. Ginko struggled a lot too but did her best to not let that affect her work. She later admitted that trying to do damage control over what happened was the hardest thing she ever did, one that made her completely disillusioned with the company. Benji, Ami and Karrie were grieving as well but kept a brave face in public.

Benji was the one who helped Shiran get back on his feet. He said that his biggest regret was not reaching out to Manaka after the breakup. While they were cool with each other and wanted to stay friends, they didn't do a good job of keeping in contact. Benji was out of town when the explosion happened and flew in as soon as he heard, planning to visit Manaka and Shiran at the hospital the next morning.

Just when all of that was behind them, an investigation of Manaka's death reopened the pain and grief for all of them. Apparently the doctor who treated her is on trial as several of his patients have died due to negligence in the past few years. In other words, the deaths of Manaka and many others could've been easily prevented if they had proper medical care. It's already bad enough that she died in a freak accident that shouldn't have happened, and now we find out that her death could've been avoided all together.

Just thinking about all that - damn. Manaka was sweet and spunky, a bit on the obedient and passive side, but always one to go out and try new things. I never understood why she always got the short end of the stick at work - and she certainly never deserved to have her life cut so short like this. Whenever I think about her, I can't help but wonder why the universe can be so unfair at times.

So with the thing going on with the doctor, people are being questioned and such, like Manaka's parents and Shiran for example. Thankfully Shiran doesn't have to testify or anything but the whole thing brought back painful memories for everyone. Shiran admitted that he's still a bit shaken up but he'll be fine. Benji's been like a rock for him, which is good.

Ginko said that since [redacted], Benji has come down to earth, or so others like to say. He's still got his head in the clouds, though no longer floating aimlessly in the sky - Manaka gave him some much needed perspective. He may be an eccentric billionaire with too much free time on his hands who is constantly daydreaming, but when he wants to make an effort, to make a change, to help a friend, he gives it his all.

It's clear how much he still loves Manaka, how she helped him shape up after spending most of his time doing whatever without much of a care. It's also clear how much he loves Shiran - the dedication it took to get him out of a bad place, he didn't have to put himself out there but he chose to. And from what I heard, it was a rough time all around - blackouts, alcohol, sleepless nights, listlessness, apathy - a continuous downward spiral for Shiran.

Since everyone was so busy with the move, Ginko and the guys didn't really have the chance to really explore Golden City. So I figured that now's a good time since we're all here and can experience the wonders of the city together.

First of all, riding the whale taxis is like floating on a cloud. We can choose to have our taxi act as a tour guide - which we did - and that made things a lot more fun! With public transportation as reliable and entertaining as this, who needs to spend extra money on cars? Our whale taxi was so sweet and informative - I can easily spend a day listening to them ramble on about Golden City - not that we haven't already! Because we enjoyed the tour so much, Benji had us booked with them for tomorrow so we have that to look forward to.

The floating gazebos are a must see in Golden City according to many reviews. Made from the finest environmentally safe materials, these gazebos were all built by hand, created to be enjoyed by all, whether it's to appreciate the architecture, hang out with friends, have some time to yourself or to gaze into the horizon. I think my favorite is the Prosperity Cliff gazebo, which overlooks the ocean, giving you a clear view of the mountains and islands. Prosperity Cliff isn't as busy this time of year because it's kinda chilly so it's nice to have the place to ourselves.

Maybe someday when we make another trip during the fall or spring we can take a trip up to the mountains. We probably won't be able to go far since it's kinda rough up there but I've heard there's some good spots for a picnic, a short hike, and maybe a swim depending on the time of day.

Of course, in between sightseeing and shopping we stopped by to enjoy the local cuisine. There's a lot of Japanese fusion places - including a Japanese-Cambodian one, which is one of Ginko's go-to restaurants for takeout because the sushi is top notch along with the soups - so that was an adventure as well!

Our plan was to get back to the hotel by eleven but of course we got distracted and spent an hour at the park watching the fireworks show. Shiran ended up missing the last train, though it's not a big deal as he usually crashes at Benji's place. By the time Daisy Jane and I got back to the hotel it was past one, which isn't too late by our standards. Good thing we won't be meeting up with the others until eleven tomorrow as that's morning for all of us.

Totally looking forward to more sights and wonders to enjoy tomorrow!

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

[bagels-and-seagulls]

Sorry, you brought it upon yourself, but Mob David and witness protection!?! It's so cool! Now I'm desperate to know how they made Matteo testify against David and what he felt after all this time? Please 🙏

i really did, didn’t i? ah well, i’m suffering through my third football game of the day and two pieces of pie in, so what the hell. let’s do it. 

-matteo meets a boy in an alley beside a cafe when he’s 16 and running from some kids that he pissed off in school. he ducked into the tight side street, his chest heaving and his heart pounding, and hides behind a dumpster, holding onto his chest and hoping he isn’t breathing too loud. he sees a guy, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette next to what looks like an employee entrance. florenzi! someone screams from behind them, and matteo’s eyes widen as the boy looks down to him and back up to the entrance of the alley. matteo shakes his head, hoping that this guy wasn’t feeling malicious. florenzi, we know you’re down here! he hears, and matteo closes his eyes and scoots closer to the wall. hey, the guy yells back at them, throwing his cigarette on the ground. there’s no one down here, and you’re scarin’ my customers. so why don’t you get lost? 

-matteo meets david when he’s 16 after david saves his neck and doesn’t ask for anything in return, even though matteo insists on it anyways. 

-they start hanging out. matteo comes by the cafe, just for the coffee, he swears. it’s good, and so is the company, he supposed. and they’re friends, just friends. at least for a while, a couple of weeks maybe, before david asks matteo if he maybe wants to go with him to a movie after he gets off his shift, and matteo knows it’s a date and says yes because of it. and they end up making out in the back of the theater for at least half of the film- one that david said he had already seen anyways.

-matteo realizes that david isn’t telling him everything the same time he notices that david has more than one phone and that when certain people walk into the cafe, david always talks to the quietly, quickly, tells them to go into the back, that he’ll meet them there to talk. he asks about it, only once. you’re into some bad shit, aren’t you? matteo asks him one night when david said they had to cut their date short because of some emergency with a friend he had to take care of. and david levels him with a look, a look that was pleading and threatening all at once, that looked like it was begging for matteo to take the question back. would it matter if i was? david asks and leans in closer. matteo shakes his head and pulls his pack out of pocket. just want you to be straight with me, matteo responds around a smoke. and david laughs, because there was an easy joke to be made, and it cuts the tension in half as he drops matteo off at his door with a kiss to the neck and a promise to his lips to see him tomorrow. 

-david admits a few weeks later in a roundabout sort of way that he was involved in something or other that was less than legal, but he didn’t plan on changing it any time soon. so if matteo had a problem with that, maybe they should just end this thing now, before it really starts. and matteo tells him that no, there was no problem. he didn’t care, not really. 

-david never says the word mob, or mafia, or gang, or anything like that, but matteo figures it’s one in the same anyways. 

-matteo doesn’t really think about it, not really, except for when david occasionally comes to his door bloodied and bruised in a way that didn’t come from an ordinary street fight, except for when he really notices david’s odd hours after they move in together when they’re 18. he just doesn’t think about it. david keeps him out of it, and matteo was never one to poke his nose into places it didn’t belong. david always spent the night in their bed, and matteo figures that’s what mattered, when you were with a man like that. 

-ten years pass, and matteo doesn’t know where the time goes. 

-mr. florenzi? someone asks as he’s taking out the restaurant’s trash midway through the day and two people in ill-fitting suits come up to him, wearing shades that looked like they belonged in the last decade and attitudes that for sure did. who’s asking? he responds back and starts his smoke break, feeling like he earned it after the lunch rush. the police, one of the two says, we have some questions about your friend, david schreibner. and matteo immediately feels a little bit prickly about the way they threw the word friend out there like that. i don’t have to talk to you, matteo says and walks back inside. 

-they don’t leave him alone. he sees them three more times at work before he gets fed up with it. just leave me alone. i’m not talking to you, he says. only guilty people have something to hide, one of the cops says back. bullshit. everyone’s got something to hide, matteo responds. he murdered someone, the other one says, getting in matteo’s face like he was tired of matteo avoiding them, just like matteo was tired of them harassing him. did he tell you that? that he killed a man last week. a father, the cop adds when matteo doesn’t say anything. and matteo looks at them for a moment, just a moment, looking at the fury in their eyes and the tension in their jaws. where were you last tuesday? the first cop asks. work, matteo says, and then home. the cops look at each other. what time did you get home? and matteo rubs at the back of his neck, left work after the dinner rush, so nine, maybe ten. i didn’t check. they look at each other again. and was david there? one asks. yes, matteo says, of course. 

-david gets arrested the next morning for murder and a couple of other charges, and matteo is so out of sorts at the whole thing that he ends up sitting on his kitchen floor for an hour, wondering if he should call david’s sister, if he should call jonas. he thought about how he didn’t even know a lawyer, if he was supposed to call one for david, that he didn’t know how to get bail money. he didn’t have more than a couple of hundred dollars to his name. he had no idea how much david had, never bothered to ask. he ends up sitting there until his phone rings, and he has to get up to go look at it, just in case it was david. 

-matteo gets subpoenaed the next day to testify on the state’s behalf, and he rushes to the police station, to those two cops that wouldn’t leave him alone, throws the papers down on the table. i don’t know anything. i can’t help you, he says quickly. you’ve already helped more than enough, mr. florenzi, one says, the mean one, and the nicer one- at least the one who keeps out of his space- says, matteo, if you’re afraid of him, we can protect you. and matteo shakes his head, you don’t know anything, do you? 

-the days leading up to the trial, matteo isn’t afraid. he knows david would never hurt him, knows none of his friends would either, but the police still put him up in a hotel anyways, saying that david’s group is known for taking witnesses out, for ruining cases anyway they can. and the entire time, matteo keeps saying, keeps insisting, that he doesn’t know anything, but no one believes him. 

-matteo goes to the trial, not like he had much choice with his ice cold police escort everywhere, and tries not to look over to where david is sitting, wearing a suit matteo has never seen, sitting next to a lawyer with a watch that looked more expensive than their house. the people’s lawyer asks him all sorts of questions about where he was, was david there, does he remember when this happened, is it true david came home with blood on his shoes that night, did you see him burning anything, are you sure, mr. florenzi, where were you the night of the seventh, where were you the night of the seventh, where were you the night of the seventh, and matteo just tries to keep it all straight, keep it all together because he can’t even tell if he’s lying himself at this point, just trying to answer all the questions the lawyers are yelling at him, the ones that the judge was yelling at him to answer. 

-he gets ushered out after his testimony, even though he’s trying to get one last look at david to tell him he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean any of this, that he told them to get lost but they kept coming at him, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that he never meant to hurt david, never ever. but they pull him out too quick, and he doesn’t get to look. he doesn’t know if david tried to look back, doesn’t know if that would make him feel better or worse if he did. 

-matteo gets put into witness protection the next day. for his safety, they said, because the group david was affiliated with wouldn’t stop until he was dead, and he tried to tell them that wasn’t true, that david wouldn’t do that. but they didn’t believe him. lot of that seemed to be happening these days. 

#i know absolutely nothing about the legal system #or the police system #and especially not in any country other than my own #so there's that #davenzi #davenzi fic #my writing #other aus

[char-thenerd]

Flight of the Mind

Part 18

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1461

Warnings: implied smut, Unedited(we die like men)

Shortly after they pulled into the hotel’s parking lot and had sent the message her phone lit up with the Queen’s contact information.

“It’s the queen.” She said to Seonghwa after he parked.

“Take it, I’ll get us rooms.” He responded leaving the key in the ignition to keep the car running as he stepped into the storm, closing the door behind him.

“Yes your majesty.”

“I know I cannot blame you for the delay but will you still be able to make it to the wedding? I cannot handle this without you. You are the one person who has kept me sane through this trial.”

“We were only planning on staying till the storm passes, which is only reported to be till tomorrow afternoon. You don’t need to worry.”

“Thank god, she’s doing her final fitting tomorrow, the bump is growing but Sunmi has done a wonderful job at keeping it hidden.”

“She is a very talented seamstress.”

“She is also close to completing your dress, we shall have your final fitting when you return. But that is not the most important thing stay safe you two, please inform me when you are to start your journey again.”

“Of course your majesty. Have a good rest of your evening.” After y/n had hung up the phone, Seonghwa reentered the car shivering slightly.

“They had one room left, a lot of travelers for the royal wedding have been misplaced because of the storm.” Seonghwa said showing her the one room key in his hand.

“Is it terrible that I honestly forgot about that?” Y/n responded, causing Seonghwa to laugh slightly as he pulled the car around to be closer to the right room. Once they parked he spoke again “you get the door, I’ll get our bags ok?”

“Room number?”

“157” handing the room key to her. As he pulled the key from the ignition they both quickly exited the car, y/n headed towards the room while seonghwa grabbed the suitcases. Once they were both inside y/n noticed there was only one bed.

“I’m sorry.” He said noticing her staring at the one bed.

“Don’t be, you can’t control that.”

“I’ll take the couch.”

“Seonghwa, no. I’m not going to force you to sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not possible seonghwa, is it alright if I shower first though? I feel gross.”

“Yeah of course.” Y/n pulled her suitcase to a spot and grabbed her pajamas and toiletries then entered the bathroom, turning the water as hot as she could stand. While under the stream of water, she contemplated what Jisung had said to her about seonghwa, little did she know, he was having the same internal conversation on the other side of the thin wall.

Returning to the room drying her hair with a towel, both of them having changed into their sleepwear. Seonghwa has the tv on a news station, discussing the upcoming Royal wedding.

“How did you forget about this? It’s everywhere.” Seonghwa asked motioning to the screen, legs crossed on the bed.

“Well when you are more worried about people finding out that you lied about an important pregnancy. Also worrying about getting close to someone so you can make sure she doesn’t cause more problems than necessary. Also dealing with hypochondriac members of the court who think they’re dying every time they sneeze makes it kind of hard to focus on anything else.” Y/n responded sitting next to him.

“Security has been a nightmare for this, I was just told we’re going to have to hire at least 10 more palace Guards to keep up with everyone coming in.” He said running his hand through his hair. They both ended up falling into a comfortable silence as the news channel shifted to a new story.

“I know tradition states that members of the court dance alongside the new couple but will I be included in that group?” Y/n asked interrupting the new report.

“Yes, I think the new princess will ask you to join that dance. Why do you ask?” He responded turning his head away from the tv.

“I never went to village dances as a youth, always too focused on honing my healing skills, so I have no clue how to even do the basic steps and I don’t want to make a complete fool of myself.” She answered, picking at the threads on the bed sheet.

“I can teach you if you’d like.” He responded

“You’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, I’ve been to plenty of Balls and Galas, I’m kind of an expert on partner dancing.” He responded, standing up before bowing to y/n and holding his hand out.

“Like right now?” She asked looking at his hand.

“We don’t really have anything better to do, plus, this will give me an excuse to...” he started before trailing off into silence, gently grabbing her hand, and pulling her to her feet as she silently questioned what he had meant to say. After 20 minutes of him explaining what to do, and a lot of laughing every time she stumbled, they finally had a good enough base that seonghwa added music to their dance, feeling the draw to one another strengthen.

“You were going to say something earlier but you cut yourself off.” Y/n said trying to break the tension that had formed. “What were you going to say?” Seonghwa considered not answering and just staying this way, in silence but he knew he could not deny her the desires of her heart any more. Looking down into her eyes he responded,

“I was going to say, that this will give me an excuse to hold you in my arms and tell you how beautiful you are.”

“How beautiful am I?” She asked looking away from him while blushing. He gently grabbed her chin with his fingers and pulled her eyes back up to look at him.

“As beautiful as the moon, which casts a gentle light to guide the way in darkness, that outshines even the brightest stars, and gives us hope at a new day. And it is one beauty that even described as such does little to fully describe how I see you. And I feel no words can describe that.

They stood together, faces barely an inch apart, barley even breathing, simply staring at each other, both wanting to take the final plunge into oblivion, but both still reluctant to walk off the edge. After what felt like eternity the both of them leaned forward and connected their lips. They stayed like that for a moment, simply allowing themselves to bask in each other’s presence, slowly continuing kissing before the desire to be closer grew. As they fell back onto the bed, they allowed themselves to be as close to each other as people can be. Choosing to show the pent up feelings they had and coming undone by them together.

After a few hours y/n laid on seonghwa’s chest, not caring for the cold outside the room. Both simply enjoying the warmth and intimacy the other provided, clothes having been shed in the throws of passion.

“Where do we go from here?” Y/n asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

“What do you mean?” Seonghwa responded kissing the top of her head.

“I mean, we can’t go public with this since my contract says no romantic relationships on threat of death, so do we just treat this like a one time thing?” He looked at her with surprise and fear in his eyes.

“I know that it might be scary but Seojoon said that even with all the trials and obstacles in front of us, that it’s the best path for us. I want to continue with you by my side but if you truly want this to only be a one time thing, I will respect your choice.” He answered drawing circles on her skin as she began smiling.

“It’s funny, I heard something similar from Jisung. He just said, the place that we belong is at each other’s side.”

“So we’ve had two separate seers tell us that we should be together.”

“Yeah, plus Hongjoong and Yunho are definitely rooting for us. It’s just a scary idea. Dying because you love someone.”

“I understand, but I have no reason to fear with you by my side.” He responded grabbing her chin pulling her face to look at his.

“Then we will make this work together.” She said smiling closing the gap between there lips in a small peck before settling back into his chest, falling asleep to the rhythm of his beating heart.

#Ateez #Ateez Au #Ateez Social Media au #Ateez Fairy au #Seonghwa #Hongjoong #Yunho #Yeosang #San #Mingi #Wooyoung #Jongho #Lee Know #Hyuna #Jennie #Flight of the Mind

[angrylizardjacket]

’cos i don’t believe in ghosts {Joe Mazzello}

1. Salem

Chapter Summary: SUPERNATURAL CREATURES AU; In which Joe (a demon) agrees to go on a ghost hunt with you (an oblivious human) in Salem because it seems like a good idea, and Lucy (a witch) also comes along because it actually seems like a terrible idea, and knows Joe’s nature far to well to leave him with you unsupervised in this sort of situation.

A/N: Concepts at play; Lucy is a witch and works with sigils and can set up telepathic links between herself and others. Joe is a demon. Gwil, Rami, and Ben, are all also supernatural creatures, but we’ll find out more about them later. Possible Lucy/Reader as well in some chapters maybe. feedback would be appreciated!!

“Text presented like this is a telepathic conversation.”

--

After a long day of sight seeing and interviews, all you wanted to do was flop onto your nice, comfortable hotel bed and watch tacky ghost-hunting shows. Socks and shoes off, snuggled under the covers with a waterbottle on your bedside table and the overhead lights off, you plugged in your laptop and opened up Netflix, scrolling through your recommendations. There was a surprising wealth of conspiracy theory documentaries, ghost-hunting shows, and sensationalised pieces on proof of supernatural creatures all over the world. You, of course, held your own beliefs about this sort of thing, but even though you were travelling all over America for work, and had ample days off to explore the sights that so intrigued you, you knew you were too nervous to go on your own. 

Except that Salem was only half an hour away from your next tour stop, and you had a full day free while there, and yes the witch trials were awful, but part of you feels like it’s the perfect ‘first haunting’ location to visit. 

“What are you watching?” On a break between interviews, it’s Joe who spots you staring at your phone, completely invested in whatever’s going on on-screen, one headphone in.

“Oh, I-” quickly, you remove the headphone, a little flustered at being caught, “it’s just Buzzfeed thing I sometimes watch.” You’d been mentally preparing yourself for going to the Witch House the following day, and had tried to go the lighthearted route of video research; somehow the duo who ran Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural managed to ease your nerves more than any straight-laced documentary would ever manage.

Joe smiles a little at that, at your sudden fluster, and he raises his eyebrows at you, moving to your other side to pick from the plate of sandwiches that had been provided for them.

“Anything interesting?” He asks, his voice surprisingly casual, and you hum for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to tell him what exactly you were watching.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, quite the opposite in fact, as assistant to the PR Manager you’d managed to form quite a solid friendship with the cast on this leg of the Press Tour for Bohemian Rhapsody.

“Depends on what you find interesting,” you give a small smile back, and Joe raises his eyebrows, perhaps in challenge, perhaps in amusement, but you conceded after only a few moments, tilting your phone to show him where the two hosts of the show were trooping towards the Witch House. “They’re, like, semi-professional paranormal investigators.” Is how you chose to describe it. Joe couldn’t hear the audio, since it was still feeding through your earphones, but his lips quirked in a grin. After a moment, the video has a close up of the taller of the two hosts, Shane, and Joe makes an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat that edges on amused. 

“Salem?” He asks finally, and looks up from the phone to meet your gaze, “spooky.” He’s holding back a laugh, you just know it, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s nearby, I thought I might check it out tomorrow.”

“Extra spooky, a little solo field trip?” He’s grinning like he’s genuinely intrigued, like he’s invested in the idea of your ghost hunt. You tip your head from side to side, deliberating for a moment, before nodding. 

“I mean, you’re always welcome to tag along,” you find yourself offering, and Joe’s eyebrows rise in both surprise and amusement, “I just never pictured it as your scene.”

“If you’re offering, I’d rather come along than have you possibly get haunted on your own.”

“You’ll protect me from the ghosts?” You half smirked, and Joe snickered.

“And anything else that might be lurking in the shadows,” it sounds like a joke, and you laugh it off easily, a little bit flustered that he’d agreed to come along so easily. 

By the time the cast had reset for the next interview, you were back by the PR Manager’s side, and Joe was sitting on the edge of a sofa, though his expression had gone strange, his smile a little tight.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a voice that was not his own filtering through in his mind.

"You shouldn’t play with her like that.”

“And you should know better than to be in my mind like this right before an interview.”

“What? Are you begging to be caught?”

“Are you? At least look at the camera. Anyways, she’s a fan of the supernatural.”

“She’s a fan of ghosts. You’re not a ghost, Joe, incase you forgot.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of being corporeal- I’m hungry.”

“Focus. You can’t go ghost hunting with her, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“I thought Rami would be much more likely to lecture me.”

“Rami’s not telepathic.”

“Fair point. Listen, if you’re so worried, you can come along too. It’ll be a fun little field trip, team bonding!”

Joe looks over to Lucy, whose eyes have glazed over. She’s got her hands clasped in her lap, but he can see the subtle way her index finger was tracing patterns in the air repeatedly. Though the minute he catches sight of her, Lucy’s attention snaps to Joe, and she gives an eye roll.

“Ghost hunting and team bonding don’t exactly go hand in hand, but fine.”

Joe could almost hear her sigh, despite the smile she wore, and after a beat, she chimed in again.

“You know I hate Salem.”

--

You’d take any opportunity to hang out with the cast, you adored them all individually, so when Lucy made mention that she’d heard you and Joe were going to Salem to do some ghost hunting, you were eager to invite her along. In fact, you’re fully intending to extend the offer to the rest of the cast, but without prompting, Lucy makes mention that the others probably wouldn’t be into it.

“Ben’s afraid of ghosts,” Joe adds, slotting himself into the conversation, and the idea alone of Ben’s weakness being the concept of ghosts is funny enough that you don’t care if it’s real or not. 

But then it’s settled; you, Joe, and Lucy were going to head to Salem the following evening. You didn’t really have anything planned, you were just going to bring your camera and just go exploring, not really expecting to find anything. You’re also not quite sure if either of the cast members are going to show up, but you’d cleared the excursion with your boss, and now it was edging on twilight and you were sitting in the lobby of the hotel you were all staying at, nervously jangling the keys of one of the rental cars the studio had outfitted you all with.

But, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, both Joe and Lucy step out from the elevator, quietly arguing with each other, though that quickly comes to an end once they spot you. Both of them smile, and you feel the relief course through you, and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“You expecting to find anything?” Joe asks during the drive, leaning forward from the back middle seat where he’d been annexed at Lucy’s insistence, while she took the front passenger seat.

“Not sure,” you replied honestly, “I don’t think I’ll catch anything on film, but I’m hoping something spooky might happen.” Laughing a little, you keep your eyes on the road, though you hear Joe snort. “What about you guys? You fans of this supernatural sort of stuff, or just along for a joy ride and to make sure I don’t get mugged while on my lonesome?”

“Honestly, can’t say I’m not a fan of a bit of supernatural shenanigans, but I’ve never held much stock in ghosts,” Joe’s voice has a surprising air of authority on the subject, and Lucy actually has to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“Just because you’ve never seen a ghost,” she snips back at him, and Joe shakes his head.

“If ghosts were real I definitely would have seen one,” he says, voice lofty, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well maybe they just run whenever they see your face,” Lucy teases, and reaches back to pinch Joe’s cheek. You’re still laughing, but Joe’s gone quiet, contemplative. “Cheer up,” Lucy adds, “maybe tonight’s your night.” But there’s a strange quality to her voice that you can’t quite identify, and before you can even try, she reaches over to turn on the radio.

Salem is quiet as a grave. Bring the car to a stop a few blocks away from The Witch House, and it finally hits you where you are, and how strangely dark it’s already managed to get. Your grip is white knuckled on the steering wheel, and it’s all you can do to sit in silence for almost three full minutes.

“If you’re not up for this, we can go back,” Lucy’s voice is gentle, but Joe’s already unbuckling and practically pitching himself from the car.

“This place has such a weird energy, you know?” He announces, hands on his hips, looking down at the street towards the House itself.

“Are you- are you for real? Or are you taking the piss?” You call out the door that he’s left open, and he spins, grinning.

“No, I’m like, being for-real. You know in like, ah, fuck I can’t remember which movie it is, but like, the guy leans down and he touches the dirt,” Joe bends at the knee, kneeling on the soil, his fingertips brushing the ground, “and he’s like, ‘something terrible happened here’,” he grins, looking far chipper than he had any right to, given the circumstance, “you know, it’s like that.”

“Maybe we should go home,” your brow creases in concern, and you shift your grip on the steering wheel nervously. Lucy rests a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel her thumb gently brushing against your jacket, though it goes a considerable ways to calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” Joe calls back, and his smile is bright and yet reassuring, “I was kidding; I told you ghosts aren’t real.” He hums as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “and what are they gonna do anyways? Be mostly see-through and wiggle at us? Tell us to get out? Joke’s on them, I have selective hearing and I can’t hear ghosts.”

The two of them walk either side of you, Joe with his hands in his pockets as he observes the scenery with a smile, and Lucy with her arm tucked into yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the palm of your hand as the two of you chatted. Neither of them really looked at you, though you were feeling relatively calm and secure. The surprise comes when you finally realise how tense and on edge Lucy was. When you ask, she gives a tight smile, and says something about how she can’t stop thinking about the atrocities committed here.

“Fair.” You agree, but try not to think about it.

“You see anything?”

“You mean anything extra spooky? No; I told you, ghosts aren’t real.”

“Joe, I know they are; I genuinely think you scare them off. Witch-spirits especially are very aware of vibes-”

“Are you saying I have bad vibes?”

“I’m saying a demon like yourself isn’t one to be messed with, and everything less than corporeal sped off the minute we arrived.”

“Was that a compliment I heard?”

“It was just a statement.”

“You think I’m spooky.”

“I think you’re going a good ways to scaring off Y/N.”

“She’s fine, she’s a champ, and it’s not like she has anything to worry about with us around, even if there was something that wasn’t scared off by my ‘bad vibes’ or whatever you called it, we could take them.”

“I still hate this place.”

“You see any old friends floating around?”

“Shut up. No.”

The tense set of Lucy’s shoulders doesn’t get better, in fact, she glances over at Joe after the two of them had been quite for a very long time, and her jaw clenches. Her grip on you gets just a little bit tighter.

“Anyone specific we’re looking for?” Joe asks out loud, as if it’s a normal conversation to have, while the three of you stood at the gate of The Witch House.

“Tituba,” Lucy answers automatically, much to your surprise, and you extract yourself from her grip gently, stepping down the stairs and into the trench where the house once was.

“You’ve done your research,” you say, a little preoccupied as you move through the space, phone camera held out in front of you.

“What about Hecuba?” Joe asks, sitting himself by the edge of the fence, while Lucy perched herself on the railing itself, the two of them sitting sentinel, like guard dogs against anything that might try it’s luck against your sweet, human soul.

“Hecuba was just a person, I think you’re thinking of Hecate;” Lucy corrects, and Joe nods, thoughtful. However, a moment passes where Lucy turns as white as a sheet, not that anyone else notices, at the idea of Hecate herself appearing in this glorified grave yard. But then again, the Goddess of Witchcraft did both adore and abhor this little town, she had no time for tourists, this Lucy knew. Even tourists with a spicy companion such as a demon.

For a few moments, they just watch you, sitting as still as possible to not interfere with your work, watching how fascinated you get with each little sound and movement. There’s nothing there, not really, but your nervous faith is so enthralling.

“You see anything?” Joe calls, and you tell him you haven’t. He repeats the question to Lucy and is met with a hum of hesitation; when he looks at her with his true sight, he sees her tracing sigils into the air, quiet, disciplined movements. To the natural eye, the sigils are invisible, but when he looks at her like this, he can see them glowing bright in precise shapes and symbols, beautiful in their own way. She’s watching you intently, and when Joe follows her gaze, he sees a translucent dome glowing around you, somehow managing to radiate ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes. Even Joe feels his skin itch just being in close proximity to it.

“No.” Lucy answers, though her hesitation had given you cause for concern, she’s quick to cover, “but it’s pitch black out here, I can’t exactly see anything.” And you have to agree.

It’s been, well, interesting to say the least. You drive back, and thank god Lucy seems to get more relaxed with each mile that you put between yourselves and that town.

“Do you plan on doing this sort of thing again?” Lucy asks as the three of you ride the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby. You hesitate for a moment.

“I mean, yeah, if I get the opportunity,” you say, a little tentatively, “you guys don’t have to come along, I can-”

“Nah, this was fun,” Joe grins, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence, your attempt to unburden them of your presence, your little side project, “now I wanna see a ghost by the time the tour’s up.” 

Lucy raises her eyebrows at him. Joe shrugs helplessly, still smiling. 

And you, you sweet, oblivious human, don’t know why but you feel safer knowing they’re coming along with you on your supernatural side quest.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #Lucy Boynton #lucy boyton x reader #lucy boynton x reader #lucy boynton imagine #queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

[the-sweetest-dragon]

Date Night

Pairing: Tim Drake x Stephanie Brown

Word Count: 1504

Summary: An anniversary gift almost too big to believe.

Warnings: None, just sickeningly sweet adorableness

AN: I didn’t almost have a panic attack writing this.  Nope, not at all.

Tags: @incorrectbatfamiliaquotes @audder17

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“Stephanie, our car leaves in ten minutes.  Are you almost finished getting ready?” Tim asks from behind the closed bathroom door.  Stephanie checks her makeup one last time before opening the door.  

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”  She opens the door and finds Tim sitting on their bed, hair somewhat rumpled and looking amazing, his dark suit complementing his pale complexion nicely.  Stephanie had made him get a haircut earlier in the week, since he couldn’t see out of his bangs and nearly ran into a wall last week.  His brown eyes catch her staring at him and he shoots her a cheeky smile, full of promise.  “Well, how do I look?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.  

Stephanie turns slowly, her deep purple dress hugging her curves perfectly.  The dress plunges deeply and ends on her mid thigh.  Tim’s jaw drops; Stephanie has always been gorgeous, it’s nothing new.  But she never fails to astound him into silence with the pure beauty of her.  Her golden hair is pulled up into a careful bun, with a few curled tendrils framing her face perfectly, and Tim has to stop himself from pulling all the pins out of her hair to be able to freely run his fingers through it.  He knows that Stephanie is very out of his league, he’s made aware of that fact every time Conner hits on her.  Tim also knows that Stephanie is, to his astonishment, very in love with him, and he couldn’t be happier to know that fact.  

“Amazing,” he breathes out.  Stephanie feels her heart leap; this was her favorite part of getting dressed up.  Tim’s amazement over her was something she’d never get over.  She watches him pull himself back together with a smirk on her face.  He clears his throat.  “Ready now, marshmallow?”

Stephanie beams at the nickname, her insides doing a soft flip when Tim kisses her softly.  They leave the hotel, making sure to keep their key cards safe in Stephanie’s very small clutch.  Tomorrow is their eight year wedding-in-Vegas anniversary and Tim had decided to surprise Stephanie with a trip to Paris for a week.  During their stay, the Cinderella ballet would be performing at the Palais Garnier, an event that had been on Stephanie’s bucket list for many years.  Her excitement is through the roof at the moment, her fingers tapping against the leather seat of the car in eagerness.  Tim chuckles softly at the movement, knowing that her nervous jitters are partially due to the quiet atmosphere of the car.  

The wedding, the huge wedding that is, is set to happen in less than a month and Tim knew that Stephanie needs a break.  She’s been working very hard to make this the perfect event, and getting her to relax was a feat that was seldom accomplishable.  Between wedding preparations and patrol, Tim rarely saw her outside of the Manor.  This trip was a welcome escape from the craziness of Gotham and the pressures of society.  

Stephanie sighs softly and lays her head on Tim’s shoulder.  Her mind is going a mile a minute, making it impossible to settle into the comfort Tim gives her.  What if the dress doesn’t fit?  What if the flowers don’t arrive on time?  What if… What if… Stephanie clenches her eyes shut, trying to stop the stream of thoughts coursing through her mind.  This trip was supposed to relax her, but if anything it had only stressed her out more.  She wants to be able to relax, but life keeps getting in the way.  Stephanie feels Tim kiss the top of her head and a little bit of that tension she’s holding inside loosens slightly.  She sighs, grateful for Tim’s calmness for a moment.

“We’re here,” he whispers softly.  Stephanie turns her head toward the opera house and let out a soft gasp.  She knows the Palais Garnier was beautiful, but she had never imagined it to be so breathtaking.  The architecture alone was gorgeous, with columns lining the entryway.  The detailing that was put into such a building must have taken years upon years to create.

Stephanie turns to Tim with a grin on her face.  Tim is looking back at her with love and adoration in his dark eyes.  Stephanie leans forwards and connects their lips, surprising Tim slightly.  He quickly warms to the kiss, cupping her cheeks in his hands and gently tracing the curve of her jaw.  She nips at his bottom lip before pulling back with a crooked smile.

“I still can’t believe you managed to get tickets for this.  It’s always sold out!”  Tim watches the giddiness enter her once again, happy that’s she’s happy.

“Anything for my marshmallow.”

As they left the car, Tim makes sure to keep a hand on Stephanie’s waist, as to not lose her in the crowd.  They enter the theater and he hears a soft gasp from beside him.  Tim looks towards Stephanie, catching her admiring the elaborate chandeliers and paintings of the grand entrance.  Tim guides her towards their seats, and they wait for the ballet to begin.  Soft whispers can be heard all around them, but Tim chooses to ignore whatever they’re saying in French to concentrate fully on Stephanie.  The look of wonder hasn’t left her face; she glances around, taking in the grandness of it all.  Tim smiles, knowing he did a good job bringing her here.  Stephanie, despite having lived with Bruce Wayne for many years, still found fancy things exciting and Tim would be lying if he didn’t say that he loved her even more for it.  It kept him humble, which is always a good thing when growing up with money.  

Slowly, the lights go down and a hush goes over the crowd.  The dancers appear and Stephanie sits completely still for the next few hours.  Her eyes rarely leave the stage, watching with rapt attention as the dancers tell the story of Cinderella and her trials to escape her home.  She catches Tim wiping away tears near the end and reaches for his hand, which he willingly gives for her to squeeze softly.

Once the ballet is well and truly over, Tim and Stephanie sit quietly in the car, waiting for the traffic to slow.  Paris is lovely at this time of night; the Eiffel Tower lit up from within, nearly shining brighter than the stars.  Stephanie has her head pressed against the window of the car, trying to spot the Big Dipper and failing slightly.  The lights of the city made looking at the stars nearly impossible.  She feels Tim shift in his seat next to her, and she turns her attention back to him.  His bow-tie hangs loosely around his neck and the top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone, giving her a view of his prominent collar bones.  Tim has always been a bit boney, and age had only made it more noticeable.  Stephanie catches the hint of worry in his brown eyes and tilts her head questioningly.  

“Did you enjoy it?” Tim nervously asks.  Stephanie smiles and lays her left hand on his chest, right where his heart beats quickly.  She can’t help but laugh softly.  He plans amazing trips and surprises, but still is unsure.  Silly man.

“Of course I enjoyed it Timmy.  Why wouldn’t I?”  Stephanie raises a delicate brow.  Tim shrugs and places his hand over hers on his chest.  “You’ve always planned lovely surprises for me, this one isn’t any different.  Thank you for an amazing anniversary.”

Tim smiles softly, lifting Stephanie’s hand to his lips, planting soft kisses against her scarred knuckles.  Stephanie has many scars, several of which are covered by her stunning dress.  Each tells a part of his story, and he wouldn’t change her for the world.  He’s seen her at her worst, just as she has seen him in the throes of depression and desperation.  There wasn’t a thing in the world that would keep them apart.  

Tim leans over Stephanie, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne.  He opens it with a small amount of difficulty, causing Stephanie to laugh at the sheer awkwardness of his movements.  With a grimace, he pours two glasses of the bubbly liquid into glasses that were sitting near the bottle.  He hands Stephanie one, keeping the other for himself and raises his slightly in a toast.  Stephanie copies his gesture, smiling widely at him.  

“Here’s to many more years of complete, and utter happiness with the love of my life.”  Stephanie gently taps her glass against Tim’s, happy beyond belief to be here with him in this car, in the city of love and lights.  She couldn’t have asked for a better fiance, or a better anniversary.  Her life is finally becoming she could be proud of, and she’s ready to live it to the best of her ability.  This life, these moments, are worth living as long as he is beside her and smiling.  

“I can drink to that darling.”

#tim drake #stephanie brown #red robin #spoiler #batgirl #batfam #paris #anniversary #cuteness overload #i'm so tired #timsteph

[bangtanfancamp]

the Devil wears Gucci- Pt 1

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Masterlist

▪︎series masterlist

▪︎Kim Taehyung x reader

featuring kim Namjoon

▪︎1.8k words

▪︎enemies to lovers au, fashion industry au, f*ckboy au

▪︎Fluff, romance, slight angst to come

(pic Credit to vantaeholic)

As the dedicated personal assistant of the genius mind behind House of RM, the empire that rules the fashion industry, your world is turned upside down the day Namjoon personally asks you to train his newest hire- the eternally insufferable Kim Taehyung.

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The early morning energy of the city buzzed around you as the tips of your chunky heels clicked against the pavement. You inhaled the sweet autumn air wistfully as a crisp breeze set to ruffing wispy tendrils of your hair loose. You’d have to fix that before your boss saw you- he hated the slightest trace of disorder-but you’d deal with that later. Traipsing down the sidewalk, you’d be damned before you missed even a second of this precious autumn sunlight.

Still, you shouldn’t linger too long. Places to be and all that. Refocusing, you tottered toward the entrance, carefully balancing a tray of coffees in one hand. As you approached your building, you took one last wistful look at the glorious morning sky before fumbling in your overstuffed purse for the key card to the elevator, the sensible part of your brain forever nervous of displeasing that high maintenance man. You didn’t dare be even a second late to see your boss-Namjoon was excruciatingly strict when it came to punctuality. You’d seen his intensity before when people were even minutes late, and though it was always a majestic sight to see- like witnessing the power of some apex predator- you were determined to NEVER be on the receiving end of it.

Realizing that was becoming more and more of a possiblity the longer you dawdled, you dashed into the office building, bolting through the elevator‘s closing doors. As the doors floated shut, you spared a glanced at your watch- 6:48am.

Phew. You would be okay. Letting your back rest against the cool metal wall of the elevator, your eyelids fluttered shut. If you weren’t 10 minutes early, you were 10 minutes late to Namjoon. “You’re totally okay. You’ve got this” you told yoursef.

Drawing in a slow breath, you used your free hand to snake your calf-hugging, plum pencil skirt back into place, blasted thing was always riding up when your hustled about too fast, and made sure your silky blouse was still neatly tucked at your waist.

Looking down, you eyed the pair of chunky heels you were breaking in today- you hoped you wouldn’t regret that. The crushed black velvet heels had just looked too cute to leave in your closet this morning. This is about the aesthetic™️ you thought, glancing down and wiggling your freshly painted black toes. As the doors began to open, you checked your reflection in the metal one last time, tucking the loose, wind blown strands back into place and steeled yourself to enter the office.

You were in Namjoon’s kingdom now.

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“Good morning sir!” you bubbled out a bit too brightly once you reached his desk. “Hazelnut latte with an extra shot, just for you,” you chirped, plunking the cup down beside him.

Before half the employees had even clocked in, he was already deeply engrossed in the paperwork stacked high on his immaculate marble desk. Who knows how early he’d arrived here or if he’d ever left last night. Eyes never leaving his laptop, he absentmindedly waved an elegantly long hand at you- silently acknowledging your presence without ever looking up. “Yes, yes- agenda for the day.” He sighed, more of a demand than a request.

Without missing a beat, You began to rattle off off his detailed schedule for the day. “Yes sir—today you have an 8am call scheduled with your distributors in Hong Kong, a 9 am session with r&d to review their most recent mockups for the Sable line, your 10:30 workout, an 11:45 lunch with Castille to discuss the potential merger, and a 2:30 flight out to Miami for that charity gala event this evening at 7.”

Phew. Just reciting it made you winded- how on earth he lived it was still beyond you. But that was Namjoon. A visionary who had started his company from the ground up at only 17, he now ran one of the most successful fashion houses in the world. It had become such a massive brand that he barely even handled any design work anymore, focusing instead on his role as CEO overseeing his vast empire.

Namjoon was infamous in the industry for the way his work consumed him. He existed at a constant breakneck speed few humans could match-It was a wonder any man could maintain the pace he had for the past 10 years, but he showed no signs of slowing down. And anyone else who couldn’t keep up, employees and girlfriends alike, was immediately left in the dust.

That was just how he operated. He was like a shark that never stopped swimming.... which unfortunately meant that you couldn’t either. A fact that had been graciously withheld when you’d originally applied for this job.

You’d been hired as his assistant a year and a half ago, fresh out of college, bright eyed and eager to change the world- and afford your own apartment. As someone completely unfamiliar with his world, the job as his assistant had sounded alarmingly simple on paper and ludicrously overpaid. You’d been over the moon to get it.

That is, until you showed up for your first day and quickly realized that working for him meant YOU had to adopt his excessive hours and match said breakneck pace just to stay one step ahead of his constantly shifting scheduling. This career was the furthest thing from a blow off job, but the looming series of zeroes your newly signed lease wouldn’t allow you to back out now. No, you’d just have to figure out how to grin and bear it for the time being. And over the past year, you’d managed to excel if you did say so yourself- especially considering that beyond the prestige of his reputation and the sheer intensity of his workplace demands, just remembering your own name in the presence of his beauty made even the most simple tasks complicated. Shaking out of your thoughts, you carefully tuned in to listen once Namjoon spoke.

“Very well- have Marco deliver my navy Armani suit to the hotel for this evening’s gala. Remind Mina that her deadline on the Rodan account is fast approaching- I need her presentation mock-up in my hands by no later than 1pm tomorrow, and for the love of God, don’t let them put soy in my latte again!” He slammed his drink on the desk as you rushed to grab the cup before it spilled.

“Absolutely sir, I’m so sorry. The soy was for my coffee. They must have misheard my order. I take full responsibility.” You bowed apologetically.

“It’s forgotten.” He pivoted in his chair to look up at you, and your breath caught in your throat. You hated when he looked directly at you like this- it was too much. The man was stunning. It was problematic really. He already made you nervous enough. You really didn’t need the added difficulty of having to maintain direct eye contact with those deep set eyes of his. So you deviated to study his perfectly coiffed blonde hair instead. It had a silver sheen in the early morning light, delicate wisps artfully styled across his brow and arranged in a way that shouldn’t have been achievable at this early hour. “I have a personal task I’d like you to take point on today,” he gritted out, jaw set in concentration.

“Anything, sir,” you nodded, with an eagerness that made you cringe. It was embarrassing how much you wished for his approval. You were good at what you did and you knew it- which should have been enough for you. And it was. Sort of. Most of the time. But on days like this, when you’d already jumbled your first task, something in you clammored for a chance to earn his praise back in a way you didn’t quite understand. You were good at this job- but honestly, how many times had you flubbed the coffee now? You hated when you made small blunders that made you seem incompetent. You knew better by now, and Namjoon knew it.

He cleared his throat before he began, and you flinched. “A former mentor of mine has contacted me with the intention of having his nephew shadow me and learn the business. I am not in a position to tell him no, but I have neither the time, the patience, nor the inclination to teach right now. However, I am indebted to his uncle. So He will start with the company today, and I will leave his starting training to you. Once he has learned the ropes, I will handle the rest.”

Well that’s certainly not what you thought this was going….

“No one here has caught on as quickly as you did as a new hire. Your first month with the company was exemplary. Despite your occasional hiccups,” he eyed his latte with derision,” the majority of your execution in your work is flawless.”

That was the nicest compliment he’d ever paid you- and even though his eyes had long since gone back to his paperwork, you blushed anyway.

“Thank you, sir,” you replied hastily, words tripping over themselves in a jumble.

“When he arrives, you will educate him on how the company operates and train him in all your responsibilities. He will be your assistant for the time being. Following our standard trial period, he will be placed in whatever position best suits his skillset after that.”

“Yes sir, it would be an honor.” You were determined to do well at this. Besides, How hard could it be anyway? “What time will he be arriving today?”

“Unfortunately, he should be here any moment no-“

“GOOD MORNING, PEOPLE!!!” a baritone voice boomed as the door to Namjoons office was practically torn off its hinges.

You gaped back in surprise, not missing the way your boss rolled his eyes at the intrusion, as a young man about your age strolled lazily into the office. He was tall and excruciatingly handsome. His silky chestnut hair swept across his forehead, swinging against his lashes and barely hiding the devilish smile in his eyes. He wore a crisply pressed white shirt- its top buttons brazenly undone- with the sleeves cuffed up to the arcs of his forearms, black patent shoes and the tightest pair of black dress pants you had ever seen. They clung to his legs, and you saw muscles in places you had never imagined muscles could be as he swaggered right up to you.

“Hey unc,” he tossed at Namjoon. “Hey to you too” he winked salaciously at you. It was so greasy it made you want to go home and take a bath.

“______, this is …”Namjoon began...

“Taehyung” he interrupted. “Kim Taehyung. Tae to anyone as pretty as you.” Bowing at the waist, he took your hand and kissed the curve of your knuckles, never once breaking eye contact.

You snatched your hand back, wiping the back of it against your skirt. You wanted to crawl under the desk and die. Who did this guy think he is? You turned your pleading eyes to your boss who surely must have seen this idiot’s conduct.

“All right, that’s enough, Kim. Hands to yourself on company time.”

You huffed through your nose as you shot Taehyung an irritated side eye. Unfortunately, it only seemed to make his smirk grow.

“_____ will be handling your training as my schedule is currently booked solid. Any questions you have for me go directly to her. She will teach you everything she knows and train you to be her assistant. If you can survive that, we’ll discuss any further promotion opportunities then. And only then,” the gravel in his tone there intentionally to intimidate.

“So I’m getting paid to spend time with her? Sir, yes sir,” Taehyung’s voice dropped impossibly low on the last part, more of a rumble than a whisper, as he dragged his eyes along your form. You felt a disgusted shiver run through you. He was gorgeous sure, but this behavior of his was gross. God. It was going to be impossible to get anything done with him.

“Keep it in your pants, Kim.” Namjoon snarled impatiently as he stood from his desk, still somehow towering over the other boy, if not in stature then by pure intimidation alone. “You would do well to learn even a shred of the skill set _____ has. Some respect would do you some good. Don’t for a second think you are here on your own merit. I love your uncle, but he is the only reason you're here, and the only reason I haven’t terminated you all ready.” The leer in his eyes made you tense and it wasn’t even directed at you.

“ The second you fail- like I know you will- you will be out of here so fast, it will make even your empty head spin.” He glowered down at taehyung and dropped his voice. “And if you make ____ the slightest bit uncomfortable in any way, I will not hesitate to throw you out of here myself.”

Your lips parted at this display of protectiveness, and you felt your chest soar. You peeked out of the corner of your eye at Taehyung. His cocky smirk never faltered, but you caught the way he swallowed, the subtle way his jaw clenched at the reprimand.

“Now…. if you’ll both excuse me, I have a call to prepare for. ____ , I expect a detailed progress report by the end of the day and a weekly update as this matter continues.” Namjoon rebuttoned his blazer and began to reorder the presentation on his desk.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently. “I’ve already ordered a replacement drink for this morning’s coffee. It should arrive shortly. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need any assistance.”

You turned on your heel, brushing past Taehyung’s shoulder as you made your way toward the exit. You could feel his hungry eyes on your hips as you walked, and you suddenly wished you had time to head home and change. You clutched your tablet to your chest and prayed this day would end, but it was barely 8 am.

God, this was going to be hell.

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Thank you so much for reading guys!!! Part 2 coming soon. Thank you so much for visiting my little corner of the internet and making it to the end. Please let me know what you think. I’d really love the feedback.

(Also is anybody else swooning over them at the Grammys? I swear those boys were invented to wear suits. Tae trending as the guy with green hair and Namjoon in those glasses? Oof. What looks.)

Part 2 is now up!!

Series masterlist

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts rm #kim namjoon fluff #namjoon fluff #bts fanfiction #namjoon imagine #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagine #kim taehyng #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #bts v #bts rapmon #bts rapmonster #bts v fluff #bts scenarios #bts v fanfic #bts taehyung fanfic #btsboyfriendmaterial #bts army #bts enemies to lovers #bts fashion au #bts au #bts rm fluff #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bangtanfancampfics #the devil wears gucci

[letsriottogether]

Silence, part 6 (Chernobyl fanfic)

Can also be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868920/chapters/48215824

Pairing: Valana, Ulana Khomyuk/Valery Legasov Characters: Ulana Khomyuk, Valery Legasov, Boris Scherbina, KGB Charkov Warning: Strong language ________________________________________________ Fall in Minsk was rainy and cold, just like any other year. Those few days of Indian summer in September Ulana spent in her lab, trying to keep her busy. The KGB visits were almost a part of her day to day routine. Either they would go through her apartment, or turn her lab and office upside down. That made her the least favorite person to work with, of course. She actually didn’t feel like an scientist anymore, as her job consisted more of the ridiculous paperwork. She knew what they were doing, they were trying to take all the good things from her life.

What she hated the most were the physical checks. A woman with hard features and a ponytail would appear every now and then, and Ulana would feel so bloody ashamed. What the hell was the point of this all?What surprised her though was that she made it to the list of people invited to a conference in Moscow. The program details were fairly vague, as if no one really wanted to say in advance. She was excited and also worried up until the last moment that someone would just walk up to her and say: “Oh hey, we changed our mind, you’re not going.” Her heart was skipping a beat knowing she would be in the same city like Valery, knowing exactly the path to his place. She could sneak out at some point and go there, just see it on her own eyes, and maybe if she was lucky enough, she could catch a glimpse of him. Maybe.

The ride to Moscow was long and she managed to sleep most of the time. Dimitri was chatting with other colleagues, she was happy he would be going as well. The hotel was quite nice and comfy, conference much less interesting. Right before one of the lunch breaks Ulana needed to pee so badly she sneaked out of the lecture hall. When she was making her way back, a strange man stopped her. She stopped dead in tracks, worried it’s another KGB agent to take her for some interrogation again. But this one was different, there was something friendly about him. “An old friend wants to talk to you,” he simply said. “Boris?”  All it took him was to nod and Ulana would follow him anywhere.

They stopped in front of an old block of flats outside the city centre. The streets were dirty, pavement and road with many holes, definitely a district that wasn’t much prioritized. They walked up to a third floor and an elderly woman opened door for them, smiling warmly at Ulana. She reminded her of her grandma, with the dimples in her cheeks, chubby body and red scarf tied over her hair. They led her to the living room, where she could hear familiar coughing sounds. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she indeed saw Boris sitting there. The man and the woman just nodded at him and left the room, leaving them alone.

They sat at the table in an odd silence at first, both eyeing each other with hesitation. They were both happy to see each other, alive and well within their limits, even though they were never exactly friends. It was Valery who brought them together, who was able to somehow filter and calm their endless arguments. Now they were alone, with no intermediary who could calm Ulana’s passionate mind and Boris quick temper. Luckily they were both too tired and focused on more important things than bringing up old scars. Last winter she was so mad with him after their meeting in the abandoned school in Pripyat, not only with him, with Valery too, that they both stayed away. And it was for a very good reason indeed. Boris stirred his teaspoon in the cup, coughing a bit, covering his mouth with an old handkerchief right away. Ulana couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dried blood stains from it. “How much time?” she asked, her voice flat. There was no point in being emotional and he was thankful for it. “Two years? Maybe three? Hell I would prefer one if it would mean quick and painless death, not being a walking corpse like I am,” he says, hiding the handkerchief into the pocket. “I’m sorry.” It’s plain and simple, and he knows she is sorry. In some ways Ulana was like him. Somehow too straight forward, but in a more delicate and elegant way. In another lifetime, they might have fought over her, he chuckles to himself. She looked at him and he was almost amused in how many things were written all over her face, and how much she was trying to compose herself.  “Go ahead. Talk,” he chuckled and took a sip on his coffee. It was surprisingly good and strong.

She slightly nodded to herself, composing her thoughts before speaking out loud. “You know already that I’m not at playing around. My life has been living hell since Valery.. Since the trial. For more reasons than one. I’m done. If we have only few years to live, I want to spend them with him.” she finally says determinedly, her head held high. He cannot blame Valery for falling for her. “You know it won’t be just like that, without a price,” he says as a matter of fact. “I know. And I have nothing to lose. I cannot work in the lab anymore, I have the bloody KGB agents checking me every other day. I’m done. I have nothing to lose, only gain.” she stops for a moment, looking at the hands in her lap, smiling sadly. “I know he denied that I was pressing him to tell the truth to protect me, to give me freedom. And I was trying to tell myself that I have to go on. But I don’t want to. Not without him,” she says and looks up to his eyes. Are those tears he can see? It takes him aback for a moment. Valery, you dog. She loves you.

He takes a moment to reply. She has to know this. She has to know everything he knows before she can make a final decision, not to mention the things KGB might want in return. “I will be honest, Ulana.” she freezes at the use of her first name. He shifts in his seat, leaning closer to her. “I got report from his last visit at the hospital. It’s cancer,” he finally manages to say, compassion and sadness in his gaze. Her eyes are glistening with tears. She anticipated this, she kept on over and over, trying to figure out what dose they all got when being there. It was what she did to keep herself busy, doing calculations on the possibility of their death or getting incurable diseases. But hearing it’s true, that not only Boris but also Valery are in the same club? “I have to be with him.” her voice is hard as she’s trying so hard for it not to tremble with the unshed tears. “You don’t understand, soon a lot of care will be needed as the cancer gets worse...” “I don’t care. I have to be with him,” “Ulana, for god’s sake, and then you will be alone, sacrificing everything!” “I DON’T CARE!” she shouts, slamming her fist onto the table. They are both surprised at the sound, staying silent for a moment. She takes a few breaths, her lips parting and then closing again as she’s looking for the right words to say, even though lately she feels there aren’t any words in any language that could express her feelings and thoughts. “I don’t care. Even if I would have one month with him, I will do it. Watch over him, be that someone he can be mad at when he feels horrible, when the pain is bad. Talk with him when insomnia hits. Hold his hand. Be there so he.. so we both aren’t so bloody alone,” she whispers and shakes her head, brushing a few tears away with her sleeve. She then looks up at Boris again. “Do you know when I had a goodnight’s sleep last time? When I was visiting him in Moscow. I hate him for making me used to sleeping next to him,” they both chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

She then does something unthinkable, as she puts her hand over his that’s resting on the edge of the table and squeezes it tightly for a brief moment. “Thank you, Boris Evdokimovich. For watching over him and for being honest with me.” 

Ulana walks up and down a street of the foreign city full of people, all rushing somewhere. It’s cold and a soft wind is blowing, as she snuggles deeper into her coat. Tomorrow is her last day in Moscow before she has to return back to Minsk with the rest of her colleagues. She has to be lucky, this must be done today. She looks over to the grey building the the several marble steps leading up to its entrance. She’s been hypnotizing this place for second day in a row, going slowly crazy. What will she do if her plan doesn’t work out? Will she just stay in Moscow? She knows she won’t call Boris, not to even ask for some details, knowing he would be too clever and would put two and two together, trying to stop her from signing an agreement with a devil. Suddenly a black luxurious car catches her attention and she knows it’s time. She quickens her steps, almost running just in time to run into two KGB agents guarding the passenger of the car who’s just stepping outside to the cold weather. “Comrade Khomyuk?!” he yelps in surprise. “I want to join Legasov,” she says simply. No greeting, no small talk. This is why she came here and she’s tired of wasting her time, the time she could be with Valery. She smiles on the inside, noticing that she took the big guy Charkov by surprise. Good. I don't want to be your doll anymore.  Charkov chuckles and gestures with his hand for the agents to step away from him. However he doesn’t forget to send angry glares toward his agents. How the hell didn’t they keep an eye on her, knowing she left Minsk? “Comrade Khomyuk. This is a very bold request indeed. We are in the middle of the street, which is not a good place to have such conversation. What about you join me tomorrow for lunch?” he suggests, already walking away. “We will talk now,” she insists, almost shouting the last word. People are turning around, but she doesn’t flinch, her gaze glued to Charkov. I have nothing to lose, only to gain.

Charkov’s expression hardens as he waves with his arm toward the door, saying nothing else. She quickly joins him, keeping up with his pace.She’s not quite sure what the purpose of the house is, as she steps inside. A residence? One of the party’s seats? The staff is definitely surprised at her presence, raised eyebrows and questioning glances at one another, as angry Charkov moves to one of the big doors. He opens them at once and she steps inside. Before an assistant has a chance to ask what Mr. Charkov would like to drink, he just slams the door shut, huffing angrily at Ulana, who has already sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs by the window to the backyard. “Comrade Khomyuk, I thought we established you know where your place is. And it’s definitely not in Moscow, making a scene on public display,” he shouts the last part, rushing over to her. Maybe a month ago, she would cringe, her heart would beat furiously. But not now. She made her peace. “You see, comrade Charkov, I would try other ways, but I needed it to be… Impressive,” she says. “Don’t play with fire, Khomyuk.” he growls and sits down opposite to her, studying her closely. He needs to calm down, to clear his head to be able to analyze her steps before she even thinks of them. “I’m here because of one thing only,” she exhales and smoothens the fabric of her skirt. “I’m done with your game. I want to be with Legasov.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, it’s more of a smug as he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know what game do you mean,” he says simply. “Stop it, Charkov. Let’s be honest for once,” she says, her expression hard. “See, Khomyuk. If you obeyed the rules, you and Legasov. Playing hero doesn’t pay out, I guess you finally understand,” he replies simply, playing with his thumbs, being all nonchalant. “I’m done with your rules. Let me go to Legasov,” she insists, leaning closer to him, anger slowly molding her features. “Or what? You will scream? You will complain? You’re forgetting who’s in the better position here, Khomyuk,” he laughs out loud, standing up. Before she has a chance to speak he raises his hand to stop her, walking around the room. “Your lives are mine, your deaths are mine to control. Your minds can go as free as they want, but to what use if no one will listen to you?” he asks, looking at her. “You will go back to Minsk, live your miserable life there, and Legasov will be here, slowly dying from cancer. And if you ever dare to come to me like this, you will get one way ticket to labour camp to Siberia,” he says coldly and she knows he means it. But she’s too far away from being stopped. She promised herself, promised to him in her mind to finish what she started and she knows there won’t be any other chance. “Tell me what I have to do,” she says and he blinks in surprise. She’s offering herself, fighting, not giving up. Interesting. Where did he see it the last time? I need her. Oh professor, you found yourself a soulmate, haven’t you? He could swear the determination in her eyes is shining just as brightly as his back then. Well, if that’s what you need, I will take it and use it as I find useful.

He stops for a moment, rubs his chin, pretending to think. Her mind is working so fast it almost hurts, and she’s trying to keep her heart calm. What price will it be? What conditions will he name? Does it even matter? He comes over to her, close enough to make her tilt her head back a bit to be able to look up at him properly. “You will be officially announced as a thread to the state. Your name wiped out from the academic circles. Your institute will be ashamed to ever work with you, rewriting all of your success to your colleagues. You will publically announce that Legasov was delirious and that the accident was indeed caused by human error, apologizing for your work, admitting you changed the results on purpose. You will say, that the Soviet people have nothing to worry about. And then,” he leans over, his face close to hers, “then you will disappear,” he whispers. She blinks away, trying to swallow the things he said. He’s good and she hates him for it. He knows what she wants, that being with Valery is the last bright thing left in her life that would make her keep holding on, that she loves him. And he knows how much she loves truth, that her moral standards don’t allow her to back down from anything else but the truth. She made Valery fight for it as well, sending him to isolation. And now? All of their work and efforts turned into nothing by her proclamation of the state version. Can I do that? Will he forgive me? Will I be able to forgive myself? “It’s a limited offer, Khomyuk. Speak up or go home and never return,” he says, sitting down into his chair, leaning back lazily. “I might to remember to send you a memo when he finally dies,” he says absolutely without emotions and something breaks in Ulana. How can she alone fight them? How can she alone scream into the world what is the truth if the world doesn’t want to see and hear? She did her part, she kept her notes, and she’s sure as hell Valery is doing the same. There are so many things she cannot change. Maybe in another time, in another country, she would make a difference and they would be listening to what she had to say. But right here, right now, truth is not a welcomed companion. And one thing she can change is that he won’t be alone. That they will be reunited again. “I take it,” “I just hope he will be happy to take you in after the last time you met in Moscow.” She swears she could punch the smug off of his face. She doesn’t remember the way back to her hotel. She’s horrified at what she has done, but also feel a strange calmness. Oh god, she doesn’t even make sense anymore. On some level it feels good, she feels this strange freedom in her heart, she’s letting go of all the bad things, of the surprise midnight checks at her apartment, of the loneliness, of constant worry how he’s doing. On the other hand, she’s making a step into total darkness. She laughs hysterically at the memory of Charkov’s last remark. How ridiculous would it be if she would appear at his step and he would just throw her out? Deep down inside she hopes he wouldn’t do it and her imagination can already feel his arms pressing her to him in a tight embrace, smelling the faint smell of cigarettes that never leaves him. The same she remembers when she was at his apartment for the last time.

Flashback to Ulana’s visit after Vienna trial Her heart pounds loudly in her ears, blood rushing through her veins. She already knew how the testimony went, Boris called her as soon as the information leaked within the party itself. Not that he would say exactly, of course. But the years spent in service to the state made him a brilliant inventor of codes to talk even with the phones bugged. With bitter laugh she wondered how the hell did they get to this position in the first place. It used to be so easy being around each other, but for some time now awkward silence would creep out of nowhere, separating them. There were moments when they would be together, not as often as she would like, skin on skin, and yet she could feel as if they were connected by the tips of their fingers, arms desperately outstretched, trying to cover the abyss that was between them. She almost felt like she has no right to be here, standing at his door. She tried to swallow the bitter pill that he did not even bother to call her to say he’s back and alive. He doesn’t want to see me or he’s just too scared I’ll ask questions?

Ulana couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. She knew, she understood his reasons. We’re all human after all, with our fears and flaws, with our own little game in this world. But he had a chance to make a difference, to tell the world, to stop this stupid play pretend. He was the chosen one, he was the voice of all soviet scientists, of all the innocent people. One hesitation, one word and the West would not have it, they would chase the Highest Soviet until the needed changes in all RBMK reactors were done. But instead of taking the leap, he bent his head down obediently. To hell with our lives. She was overwhelmed with all these emotions and thoughts along with weird confusing combination of envy and shame. Envy for she had to remain in the background, not to be seen or heard simply because she was a woman, that her and her family didn’t climb high enough within the party’s circles. How many times she could see in the eyes of men the disdain, derision. Some even used to dare to advise her to go back to kitchen. When she was younger, she was shamelessly able to slap them, showing her rage, her passion, that she’s not just some doll, some maid who waits at home. She wanted, needed to show the world that her place is anywhere she wants it to be. With Valery, it was different. She could see the hesitation also in his eyes for a brief moment, when she stormed into the empty banquet room of the Polissya hotel, some of it remaining in his face expression through her first words. And then it was all gone, all prejudice and he saw her, heard her words and took them seriously. She did not want to admit it back then, but something moved within her in that very moment. He showed her so many times when they were together, with his understanding silence, with the small gestures. The way he talked to her. Even in his touch. And because all of this, because she knew he accepted her and considered her equal, she felt ashamed, as she could not rise above her bitterness from degradation of previous years. But why did he go with the lies? She raises her hand and with a moment of hesitation knocks on the door, maybe too loudly. Silence follows and she almost thinks he’s not home, when the door suddenly open. She means to say something, to greet him, but the empty look in his eyes stops her. He steps aside, and with a gesture invites her in. The last time she was here was not even a month ago. After such awkwardness she decided to stay away and he did not complain. Their relationship took a big hit after he admitted he knew about the Volkov paper back in that bloody abandoned school in Pripyat. Nothing has changed here since then, still the old bachelor place with books everywhere, air mixed with cigarette smoke and something else, scent she has connected only with him. They sit down at a table in the living room, and she can feel annoyance rising in her veins. So this is how it’s going to be? “Did you take a train?’ he finally asks, nonchalantly, as if she was on holiday visit. She can’t help herself, bitter chuckle escapes her lips as her eyes roll. I’m happy to see you, too, Valery. “Yes, I took a train, now let’s talk about Vienna,” the annoyance visible in her tone, she knows she has to try something else. “I’m not here to scold you. I know how the world works, despite what Scherbina says,” she tries with a softer tone, hoping he will stop acting like a stranger. His expression changes somehow into an amused one. He can see right through her. She did not come all the way from Minsk to Moscow just for a friendly chat or quick fuck. Nor to make things better between them. “So… Why are you here?” Even as tired as he looks, his eyes are burning through her, and she can help but scream inside, wanting him just to be Valera again. “Because I’m brutally stubborn. Which you were hoping for,” her voice trembles imperceptibly, as she remembers his own words. How many times has he whispered to her skin that he adores her the way she is and that she mustn’t never change? These two stupid sentences say everything and nothing at all. She can see something is happening inside of him, he contemplates whether he should let the facade fall or not. And something inside of him pushes the thought far, far away. He’s not sure which part of him it was. The one raised in Soviet union, the Valery Legasov who did all the things he did, as horrible as they were? He sticks to the good apparatchik boy, repeating the lies once more, convincing himself more than her. Part of him wants her to let it go, the other one is provoking her, hoping for her abrupt reaction. Except there is nothing abrupt about her words. She’s calm, but he can feel the storm raging inside. All her words make sense, he cannot help but feel happy she hasn’t changed, that in moments like this when he doubts everything, she remains unchanged. And then she says something so her, but under these circumstances so dangerous, that all the alarms start ringing in his head. “At the trial, you’re going to tell the truth,” There, this is why she came. She leans forward, for a moment he thinks she will grab his hand. He turns to the possibility of mocking her, hoping it will somehow make her silent. He knows his arguments mean nothing, that this isn’t about the jury. This is about the whole courtroom listening, as he breaks the perfect Soviet facade apart. He lets her talk, listening to the waterfall of words (as if she was saying something he didn’t already know), waves of her passion washing over him and he realizes that even though she says all the right words, he remains obstinate, Volkov’s fate crossing his mind, fear and bitterness taking over his body. Ulana, oh Ulana, are you really that naive? He tries one last time, patiently explaining fate of his old friend and cannot help but notice that it did not move her at all. And then she says his name, and for a moment he thinks there are tears in her eyes. Because you’re Valery Legasov What the hell does she see in him, what did he do to deserve this? He’s running out of patience, why is she pretending that he’s any more important than any of their colleagues? Why is she putting the fate in his hands? He feels the hurt in her next words, he knows how much she would like to be appreciated for all the work she has done. And he knows she did a lot, that there’s an undoubted part of her in all the solutions, but what about him? Hasn’t he done enough, sacrificed enough? She’s gambling his life for god’s sake, gambling any time they might have together. In that very moment he knows he has no other chance than to say the true reason. She pushed him too far. “They will shoot me, Khomyuk,” she flinches at the use of her surname and he knows he might have gotten too far, but so has she. And suddenly, her face hardens, he swears he can see the flames in her eyes, moving through her body. He pushed her to the edge of the abyss as well, both falling now. The landing won’t be pretty. “They didn’t hesitate, they didn’t waver. They simply did what had to be done,” Every word that leaves her lips is sharp, almost spitted out, razing like a blade. He knows she’s blaming him, talking about all the things the poor people of Pripyat have gone through, sacrificed. How dare she? Who is she to talk to him like that, to attack his own consciousness? He is freaking going to die, maybe even sooner than in five years as he expected. No one back then had asked him if he wants to be a part of this circus or not, he also did what had to be done. “So have I. I went willingly to an open reactor,” he pauses for a moment, trying so hard not to start screaming at her, hating her in that very moment, hating himself for saying another lie. Willingly? What chance did he have with Gorbachov at his back? “So I’ve already given my life. Isn’t that enough?” “No, I’m sorry, but it’s not,” her face changes, softens. There she is, sitting in the middle of Moscow with a man who helped to save millions of lives, but with his silence, endangering them all over again. A man she thought was her soulmate. She understood his reasons, all so much human, but wasn’t it him who said that they were scientists? So how come he’s suddenly backing down, pretending he’s done his part? She feels as if he’s betraying her, leaving her alone again. She cannot have it, for all the reasons that were there the whole time. And suddenly a new realization hits her hard. She feels alone again. All along ever since that night in Polissya hotel when she wanted so much to kiss him, when he offered her to stay at his place while being in Moscow… A warm feeling of companionship was taking over her without noticing it. Then the first kiss came, first night together, the talk he gave her when he picked her up at Lyubyanka. She felt they shared a deep connection, two souls different from others in this world finally having found each other to walk through this horrible world together. And now the feeling was gone. Was it all just a lie? She stands up, fast, her head spinning. She needs to leave, this turned into something completely else and she needs some space to think, to push all ridiculous emotions aside, worried she might say something else that she would regret later. She still hopes their relationship is salvageable. She turns around, grabs her coat from the chair and when her foot moves one step to the door, to get the hell out of here, he grabs her by the hand, almost painfully, stopping her dead in tracks. She’s bewildered, taken aback by the unexpected move. Her gaze slips down to the place he’s touching her skin, it’s burning, her instincts screaming at her to jerk her hand away. “You are the most annoying and possessed woman I’ve ever met,” he whispers, eyes hard, raging as all the barriers come undone. She breathes heavily, his grip on her growing tighter. And with a blink of an eye he’s near her, pulling her to him, one hand wrapped around her waist, the second one slips into her hair, his lips descending on hers. She’s in shock, for a split second she ponders whether she should push him away, before the warm feeling spreads from her chest to her whole body. She lets her coat fall down from her arm down to the floor, her left hand sneaks up on his chest, right travels around his neck. “Don’t leave,” he whispers to her soft skin as his mouth moves to plant kisses on her neck. She shares his desperation, his longing for touch, trying to push all the unpleasant feelings aside. Maybe if she pretends hard enough, it will all be ok for at least a moment. Later she lies in his bed, his arms encircled around her waist. He’s snoring softly and she actually is relieved he’s asleep, that they don’t have to talk. She’s not sure what she would say, worried that her emotions would get the best of her. Her vision gets blurred with tears. This wasn’t supposed to get so complicated. She moves her body, turning around to him. He looks so innocent, as if he was just a normal man in his fifties, sleeping peacefully, waking up into a normal uncomplicated life. She leans down and fights the need to hide in his embrace forever. “I love you,” she whispers, her voice thick with tears as she fights a sob. When did she become so soft? His hand suddenly wanders to her back as he opens his eyes, being only half asleep. She’s both surprised and ashamed that he caught her in her weak moment. “I love you too, Ulana.” His voice is hoarse but honest. He means it, he means all of this. He just hopes that the truth won’t tear them apart completely. A few more tears slide down her cheeks as she leans into him, holding him tight. In a moment he’s asleep again. I just hope he will know the right thing from wrong. When the lamps outside flicker, bringing light to the dark streets, he wakes up alone, unbearable silence both in the apartment and in his head.

#chernobyl hbo #chernobyl fanfic #chernobyl fanfiction #fanfiction #valana #ulana khomyuk #valery legasov #ulana/valery #Ulana Khomyuk/Valery Legasov #my writing #silence #ao3 #letsriottogetherwrites

[likethetailofacomet]

Cross Space and Time Ch. 3- Chance Encounters

Kenji and the Hero team deal with the aftermath of April’s epic battle with Silas. 

Pairings: Kenji x April, Dax x Poppy, Jake x Kara 

Tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @zaffrenotes @sleepwalkingelite @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @brightpinkpeppercorn @simmerbychoices @cordoniantrash @indiacater if you would like to be added or removed let me know!! 

He burst through the door to the clock tower, a crazed look in his eyes, chest heaving. Once inside he shifted back into human form, the familiar metallic ripple passing over his body, leaving him feeling a little weaker as it always did when he changed back. Collapsing to his knees, lungs on fire, throat completely raw from screaming her name into the void, the pain continued to wrack his chest, ribs aching from the way his breath was coming in shallow gasps. He'd wanted to burst in here, demanding that Dax get the Prism Gate running again, that they find a way to get her back. But once he was Kenji again, once Talos was gone, the resolve left him and the pain had taken over.

Eva trailed in after him, absolute despair written on her face, cheeks still tear stained and red though she was no longer crying. April had been the first friend she'd really ever had, the first person she trusted with her secrets. She'd taught her how to let go of pain and how to let old wounds heal. Eva took a shaking breath thinking about this new wound, this new pain, and how the only person that might help her past it had been April. No, she corrected herself, is. Is April. We'll get her back... her caramel eyes drifted to the crumpled figure on the ground that was Kenji and she felt a sharp stab in her chest witnessing his pain. He loves her, fiercely, she knows this with a firm certainty. We have to get her back. We have to. She knelt behind the man that had become her friend, draping her arm over his shoulders.

“Hey, Kenj, we'll get her,” she muttered, tears starting to roll down her cheeks again. Damnit. She blinked furiously and forced them to stop. She had to be strong for Kenji and Dax and Poppy...for April. “We're gonna get her back, Kenj, we will.”

Kenji stiffened at her touch at first. He'd become so accustomed to the way April's hands had felt, the signature warmth and feeling that only she could give him, and Eva's touch was different. It startled him slightly, but he was grateful for her support, leaning into her, both of them needing a friend so badly.

Dax and Poppy slowly made their way down the spiral staircase, Poppy's eyes still glued to the communicator watch on her wrist, her hands trembling, mouth agape. She was still waiting for it to blink back on, for the projection to show April floating back down from the glowing aftermath of her battle with Silas with a victorious grin on her face, perhaps giving them some cheesy line about missing her. Dax was muttering things over and over to himself, scientific terms that Kenji and Eva didn't understand. It was like watching a computer malfunction.

“Dax,” Kenji croaked weakly, Dax not hearing, stuck in his loop of equations and hypotheses. “Dax!” Kenji said louder, with more urgency. The small man snapped his goggle laden head towards Kenji, who'd gotten to his feet with Eva's help. “What do we do?” he asked him, hoping beyond hope that he would know the answer.

Dax opened his mouth as all eyes fell to him. He closed it again, swallowing, then took a breath and said, “I'm...not sure... I...I'm not sure we can...”

“Dax...?” Poppy put her hand on his arm gently, turning him towards her. Her face had fallen at his words, fear making her doe eyes even wider than normal. “Dax, what do you mean? There's got to be something we can-” she started gesturing around the clock-tower, at the lab equipment they'd assembled there in their underground headquarters.

Dax placed his hands on her arms and she flicked her eyes up to his. “I don't know, Poppy. We...we don't have any of those prisms... the gate,” he turned to Eva and Kenji. “The gate, I could rebuild it, sure, but, it runs on those prisms, and they were destroyed in...” he trailed off, not sure what to even call what happened. “I don't know the first thing about where to find more... or how to, I don't know, manufacture them? I... I don't know...” he muttered, clearly upset that he didn't have a scientific solution.

Kenji took a shuddering breath, nodding, understanding what Dax was saying, the pain ripping through him again like a dull razor being dragged across his flesh. Eva felt the sting of it hit her between the eyes, spreading through her nervous system like lightning, every nerve twitching with the knowledge that she truly might never see her friend again. Oh, April... It was Poppy that spoke next, alarmingly calm. “Okay, well,” she piped up, “well we know what we have to do then, right?” She looked around at all of them, their forlorn eyes on her, not sure where she was going or why she wasn't drowning in the sorry that they were lost in. She and April had known each other since grade school, had referred to one another as soul sisters. “We have to rebuild the gate,” she looked at Dax pointedly. “We have to find some of those crystal prism things,” she glanced at Kenji and Eva, “And we have to open another portal so April can come home.” She nodded with finality. “But right now, we need a drink. Come on, no excuses, we all need it.” She was waving her hands in a “round-em-up” sort of motion.

“Poppy...really? Now?” Kenji groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the bar that he and April had danced in, her head resting against his shoulder, their hips pressed close together, where he'd kissed her like he'd never kissed anyone, and that was saying something...where they'd... But then, a drink or ten might help with the way his entire body was burning.

“Yes, now. We all just had a truly shit day, and we deserve to drown our sorrows, just for tonight. That's it though, you got that? Tonight is for feeling bad and wallowing but starting tomorrow we're working on getting April back and we're not stopping until we do. Got it?” Her bubbly tone had taken on one of authority and it almost made Dax laugh with adoration.

“Got it, Pops,” he kissed her on the nose, a small smile on his lips. No one could cheer up a crowd as lost in their pain as they were like his Poppy. They made their way to Kenji's night club, and told Skylar to keep the shots coming until they fell over.

Jake had landed in New York two hours ago. After calling Mike and Rebecca to let them know he'd made it safely, he'd checked into a hotel and immediately headed downtown. He'd looked up the address, well, former address of Prescott Industries, and figured what better place to start looking for the man of bronze than the last place he'd known him to be. As he fought through the throngs of people crowding the streets, horns from taxis and buses and cars blaring in his ears, he finally found himself standing in front of a large crater in the ground, broken shards of glass and twisted metal sticking up at jagged angles, smoke still rising from the wreckage. Seeing the coverage on the news had been one thing, but seeing the devastation at street level, the whole block cordoned off with yellow police tape and wire fencing was entirely different. This Prescott guy must'a been working with Rourke, he thought, this is right out of that guy's playbook.

He looked up and down the street suddenly aware of how stupid he'd been in hoping to find his mark so easily in a city like New York. He cut himself off from the panic before it set in. Alright, Jake, you just got here, just get your bearings, get a drink, and tomorrow we start getting answers. He turned around and headed towards a cabaret themed bar he'd just passed and headed inside. One look at the forlorn group already at the bar told him that he wouldn't feel out of place here.

He took a seat next to a nerdy looking guy with big green googles perched on his noggin, a pretty girl leaning against his shoulder. He ordered a beer and the bartender had it to him in record time. New York minute, he mused, faster than a southern second. Taking a swig he felt a pair of eyes on him and turned to see the man next to him gaping at him.

“Hey, goggles, you good?” Jake asked.

“You're Jake McKenzie,” Goggles answered.

Jake blinked, hand frozen mid air, beer half way to his mouth. The rest of the group was now staring at the two of them. “How the fu-”

“La Huerta. You were one of the group that got off...I remember the news story...I remember your trial.” he said.

“Oh,” Jake's eye brows flew up but at least the guy's explanation made sense. “Yeah, that's me,” he saluted him with his beer and turned back towards the bar.

“Do you know anything about the crystals?” Dax asked in a low voice, serious eyes still trained on Jake.

Jake turned back slowly. “What...how do you...” his heart was beating fast. Could he have lucked out like this? This you, princess? He silently asked Kara. She didn't answer, she never did, but he thought maybe it was her, pointing him in the right direction.

“Science nerd,” he pointed to himself, “Researched everything I could about La Huerta after that story, after you all just appeared out of thin air...”

Jake nodded. “I might know about the crystals. What can you tell me about the Metal Man?” He was leaning his elbows on his knees, staring intently into goggles' eyes.

“What do you want to know about him?” Kenji asked from three stools down.

#cross space and time #hero #hero au #es #endless summer #endless summer au #hero es crossover #choices fanfiction #jake x mc #jake x kara #kenji x mc #kenji x april

[galadrieljones]

A Funeral: Chapter 2

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Existential Angst, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their little journey together, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. In their desperate search for meaning, they endure a number of small trials, which bring them closer to one another as well as to the unchecked plights of the natural world.

Masterpost | AO3 

Thanks @bearlytolerablethethird for the banner!! ^_^

Chapter 2: Inside

About a week later, while asleep in the hotel above the saloon in St. Denis, Arthur had a dream. He dreamed that he had killed and skinned a polar bear, and he had stepped inside of its skin whole. It was wet and chilled inside. He lived there for ten whole years while in the dream, aging and growing soft for his lack of movement and oxygen. Just as he was about to die from starvation, he realized he had grown a beard, and he stepped out of the polar bear skin and back into the world which had all burned while he was away. The cities and the railroads were all ashes, and the trees were black sticks going straight up into the sky. It was a hellscape. Everyone he had ever known was dead.

When he awoke, he was out of sorts. He looked around at the empty room and he fell into a kind of panic. He was thinking about Mary. He had forgotten what year it was and what day it was and he realized that when he was looking around, he was looking for Mary. Where was Mary? He was looking for Mary, and he was thinking about her, and about her skin for some reason, and of all the things about her, he thought of her skin and the ways he once knew its shapes and colors. Why was he thinking of her skin. And then he realized that, along with her skin and the way she felt and the way he felt when he was inside of her—all that had faded now, in his memory like an old pair of boots. He could not remember. It all happened so fast. It was a complete shock.

It had been such a long time since he’d been with any woman in any meaningful way. He never thought much of it, but now, he asked himself why. Why, Arthur. Why. He should have married Mary. He should have just married her, he thought. Fuck her father, fuck Dutch. That was his anxious brain now at the age of thirty-six. He should have married Mary Linton and put a child in her, and they should have lived somewhere in the warm woods far away where it snowed in winter and it was his only job to chop firewood and perhaps be some sort of warden in the local town. He should have been a fisherman. He should have been a trapper. He should have gone to college. He should have been a father. Where was Mary. His heart was beating like a fucking drum in his chest. He held himself until the panic went away and then he curled back into a ball beneath the smooth covers and he tried to close his eyes and return to sleeping, but that was all he could do. His body and his mind. His whole soul was awake. He felt ruined.

Downstairs in the saloon the next morning he had a bowl of soup and the bartender was a nice man who tried to make conversation. He wanted to talk about Arthur’s hat and thought the red feather in its strap was neat. Arthur tried making good with the bartender. He did not wish to seem surly as he knew he looked surly. He smiled and tried to explain the origin of the hat, but the bartender was shining a glass and seemed confused.

“You skinned an elk for that?” he said casually.

Arthur didn’t know how this could possibly be so unbelievable. He had skinned much worse than elk for must less than hats. He finished his soup and tipped his feathered hat, and he went outside to feed and water Sarah. Then he was on his way.

This city is getting in my blood, he thought. It’s getting in my dreams. He rode out into the swamps to fish. But Sarah drew constantly skittish due to the gators. He was sick of killing them, as they were a waste of bullets, but they always seemed to be getting in his way. He caught a fourteen pound catfish and then another. He killed and pruned a white heron for its decorative feathers. He cooked its tough meat over a spit and ate it while surrounded by wet bugs and trees. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard a woman screaming. He stood up with his ears wide open and his shot gun in his hand for five whole minutes trying to hear it again.

“My fucking imagination,” he said, tucking away the shotgun and sucking on a sugar cube. He was out of smokes. He bit his nails a little and drank some water, and after heading back to the butcher to sell off his catch, he bought a pack of cigarettes and a new neckerchief and then he rode back to Shady Belle.

I have been actually choked, he wrote in his journal, still saddled on Sarah just outside the perimeter of their camp. He smoked. I have been actually choked by a man’s bare hands and yet it is nothing so suffocating as this swamp. If I have to kill one more gator to save my horse from heart failure, I may just lose my composure. I have thought of beating men senseless and I have done it on occasion. This place has sucked a great deal of life from my bones. I need to get the fuck out of here, if only for seven days.

That night, he ate a little stew and drank whiskey to calm his nerves. Javier wrangled him into a game of poker, which he won handily, and then he decided to cash in and go to bed. Javier took to playing his guitar, and some of the boys continued to drink. Dutch was somewhere else in the camp, limited in his interactions and stewing in his obsessions. Arthur did not wish to speak to him that night. He was still tainted by that dream and did not wish to speak to most anyone about anything beyond the most surface level conversations.

Inside, he ran into Mary Beth again. In the dining room, she was having a conversation with Karen. The two of them seemed overcome with their private laughter. Seeing them like this, these women for whom, in some wide, chivalrous sense, he felt an overwhelming responsibility, it was a reassurance. There they were, existing. He thought the two of them were more like opposites—Mary Beth and Karen, but watching now, he supposed that opposites can attract. Karen was crass and immediate while Mary Beth approached all of her airs with distance. She was too sharp. They were sitting at the dining room table drinking bottles of beer by lamplight, and when they saw him, they invited him to come sit and to have a drink with them. At first, he thought to decline, but then Mary Beth held out a bottle like a right welcome, and with this small interaction, he gave in. Inside, it was softer. They taught him a card game he had never played before, one he would forget by morning, but it was exciting. Lots of slapping the table, and there was this entire mechanic where you had to hide a wooden spoon near your person and if somebody stole it from you, the hand ended, and you lost. They played several hands. Arthur won two out of three. When Karen left to get a refill on their bottles, he put his elbows on the table and breathed steadily. He felt something small release inside his heart, just sitting there, but he wasn't sure why.

He felt Mary Beth's hand on his then, a fast touch, then gone. "You all right, Arthur?"

He looked up and half-smiled. "Why do you ask, Mary Beth?"

She shrugged. "You seem tense. Then again that's not all that unusual."

"It was a long day," he said, shifting in his chair. He felt big at that table.

“What happened?" she said.

"Nothing much to make it seem long. It just felt long."

"I get that."

"What happened around here? I heard Hosea killed a damn gator."

"He did!" said Mary Beth. She was laughing. "You ought to have seen it. I think he emptied a full chamber on that bastard and it was still waddling away. Anyway, it's dead now. I think Pierson put it in the stew."

"Yuck," said Arthur. "I thought that stew tasted a bit green."

"You should check on Hosea and his heart health," said Mary, sliding the deck of cards across the table to him. "He's too old for that sort of activity, Arthur."

Arthur laughed. “Old Hosea will be fine," he said. "But I'll be sure to check on him anyway."

He lit a cigarette. She asked if she could have one, too. He lit it for her off the end of his, and they sat there, smoking, ashing right on to the table. There was a fly inside, bouncing off the lantern like some sort of idiot. Arthur swatted at it once, and it went away.

"So," said Mary Beth.

"So."

"What are you gonna do tomorrow, Arthur? You heading back to St. Denis?”

He studied the lit end of his cigarette. He remembered that goddam polar bear. He shook out his head. "No, no. I was thinking of leaving the swamps," he said. He looked at her. "I tell you this place is full of ghosts. Old things and people, ideas I can’t contend with no more."

"Where will you go, Arthur?”

"North."

“North for what?”

“Moose,” he said, giving her a look. “I’ve got it all marked on my map. Big moose there's supposed to be, up in the Roanoke Valley. I was thinking of heading up there to hunt a little."

She smiled like a lightbulb. She caught his meaning. She reached across the table and put her hands on his shoulders. “Moose hunting?”

“Yes, ma’am."

"Can I come with?"

"It’s a long ride," he said, dipping his cigarette into the table top. "Will you be all right?”

"You know it."

“That’s what I thought.”

“We're leaving in the morning?" she said, excited. "What time?"

"Sometime after first light," he said. "If you could get some provisions together, for us and the horses, that would be useful. About a week's worth and we can hunt the rest."

"I can do that," she said, sitting up real tall. "And warm clothes?"

Arthur nodded. "Warm clothes," he said. "And I mean it, too. Don't be dainty. You got a bed roll with wool or something?"

"I do."

“I’ll take care of the artillery,” said Arthur. “Make sure you’ve got a sturdy saddle on your filly. I can lend you one, if you need it."

“I’m good,” she said proudly. “I sold a couple a pocket watches last week, and just the other day I purchased a brand new saddle at the stables in St. Denis. I had them beat it with hammers to make the leather real soft.”

“That must have run you extra,” said Arthur, smiling. He shuffled the deck of cards. “Good thinking though.”

“I am always thinking, Arthur,” said Mary Beth, resting her chin in her hands, dreamy. She watched him shuffle those cards like it was no tomorrow. “Just like you.”

“I don’t know about that, Miss Mary Beth,” he said. “But I thank you anyway.”

"This is gonna be fun, Arthur," she said, smiling. "I know it. In my bones."

I sure hope so, he thought.

She sighed long and loud. That is when Karen came back with the beers, and she began to tease them. “You two talking about philosopbies of the weather or something?” she said. “You look about hundred miles in love.” And she laughed.

Arthur was a little confused by this, in a literal sense. He tried to figure out what the hell she meant by philosophies of the weather. “You know I met, uh—an archaeologist a few months back,” he said, dealing them each a hand of cards. “I don’t know nothing about the weather, but she showed me a gotdamn dinosaur’s rib cage. She was digging it right out of the ground.”

“A dinosaur?” said Karen. She flew up with laughter. "You got to be kidding me."

“Oh my god,” said Mary Beth. “Do you remember where it was?”

“Not really,” said Arthur, smiling at her. Of course he did, but he didn’t feel like remembering. He just took a drink from his beer. What had happened to him? Was he awake? “Now," he said, "am I dealing, ladies, or are we gonna talk nonsense all night?”

“Deal, Mr. Morgan,” said Karen. She had big rosy cheeks. It felt like a party, but it was any other day. “And do not expect any easy favors from us, not this time.”

“Oh I would not dare, Miss Karen,” said Arthur. In his ears, his voice sounded like gravel. But there was a fire in the hearth. It was almost enough to make him feel safe again.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth