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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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How To Stop Time: Touch

Request: Please could you do a soulmate au where time stops when solemates touch for the first time with draco 💞

A/N: Another soulmate AU and for Draco? It’s like you’re treating me, I swear. You must know how much of a sucker I am for this man. Thank you so much for requesting this, nonnie! I hope I’ve done it justice! <3

Warnings: swearing - it’s a load of fluff and me waxing lyrical about the history of soulmates... again.

Word count: 2.1k

The magic surrounding the tale of soulmates is so powerful that it is said time stops when soulmates finally touch.

The eldest witches and wizards in the magical community believe that in response to the muggle witch hunts across history, and particularly, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the soulmate bond was created as a way for witches and wizards to identify their other half without the risk of increased danger.

To tiny witches and wizards, they grow up on this tale. They relish in the belief that their love for their soulmate is so powerful that time will stop once they touch; spurred on by the tales of their parents and grandparents before them who had found their soulmate in the other. Across the world, tiny witches and wizards curl up in their bed, dreaming of how time will stop the moment they find their soulmate.

-----

As you progressed in your education at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, countless numbers of your friends found their soulmates. Each of them bounding up to you giddily as they each explained how time stopped the moment they touched their soulmate, and how it felt like time would always stop whenever they looked at them.

As you entered your seventh year and you still hadn’t found your soulmate, you began to question whether you had one. For a small percentage of the wizarding population, they did not have a soulmate, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing – those without a soulmate felt the freedom of being able to choose who they loved and who they dedicated their life to. However, as a teenager watching their friends fall in love around them, you were desperate to know if you had one.

Sure, you had crushes. The longest one being on the blonde-haired Malfoy heir, and the part of you that dreams at night, wonders whether it could be him for it seemed that he hadn’t found the person that made time stop for him either.

-------

To say you were frustrated would be an understatement.

NEWT exams were rapidly approaching yet you felt no more confident with your potions ability than you did at the beginning of the year. You had barely scraped by to get into Slughorn’s Advanced Potions class but scrape by you did and now you find yourself questioning why you had ever taken the class.

Not to mention the fact that your soulmate was still to make an appearance. Your closest friend, Sam had found his soulmate in a Ravenclaw boy named James – they were lovely together, but the anxiety of not having found your soulmate as well as the upcoming exams diminished your happiness for them.

They comforted you; promising that you would find your soulmate soon and that you would pass your exams without fail. And though they tried their hardest, you found it hard to believe them.

Instead, you take matters into your own hands, pushing all thoughts of soulmates and your lack of one to the back of your mind as you approach Professor Slughorn after class in which a practical had gone drastically wrong. He agreed to help; promising he would call on you when he found it.

You left the classroom feeling somewhat at ease with his words. You may not have found your soulmate, but you’ll be damned if you don’t pass your exams.

Professor Slughorn calls on you on a Thursday evening; sending a note with a first year to your common room asking you to join him in his classroom. You head straight there, pulling on a jumper as you leave the common room.

“Miss (Y/L/N), thank you for joining us.” Professor Slughorn greets as you enter the classroom, taking in the sight of him and Draco Malfoy.

“Of course, Professor.” You say, sitting in the empty seat next to Draco.

Slughorn smiles at the two of you, “You approached me at the end of our last lesson, Miss (Y/L/N), asking for extra help with Potions, is that right?”

“I did, sir.”

“I spoke to Draco after we had our conversation, and he’s more than happy to tutor you, isn’t that right?”

Draco crosses a leg over the other, “It is. I’m more than happy to help.”

Slughorn claps his hands together, pleased at the fact that he’s sorted this between you both. “I’ll leave my classroom free for you both on Saturday, that way you won’t be disturbed.”

You stand from your seat, smiling at the professor and Draco. “Thank you.” You look at Draco, “I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you leave Slughorn’s classroom.

-----------

Saturday arrives, and you hold back a yawn as you push open the door to Slughorn’s classroom. The chill of the morning and your residual tiredness has you pulling the sleeves of your cardigan down to cover your hands; hoarding any warmth possible.

“I know it’s early, but I went to the kitchens and the Elves were more than happy to wrap us up some warm pastries and give a flask of tea.” Draco greets.

He holds out a small cup of tea, steam still rising. You take it from him, letting the warmth fill your hands and then flow through your body as you take that first sip.

“Thank you, Draco.” You say, taking a bite of the breakfast pastry, moaning softly at the taste of butter and jam.

Draco smiles as he takes a bite of his own. “I thought we’d follow Slughorn’s curriculum, so we aren’t missing anything out. That means we start with Amortentia, is that okay?”

You nod, continuing to eat your breakfast.

Draco smirks, “Besides, it means I get to find out if you have a crush on anyone.”

You snort, “It goes both ways, I believe, Draco. I get to see if you have a crush too.”

Draco laughs, blushing lightly. He potters around the classroom, gathering the ingredients as you sip your tea. Watching him, you realise how attractive Draco truly is. Once you got past the hard exterior; removed the mask he so often wore, he was soft and gentle.

You had always harboured a small crush on the teenager titled the Slytherin Prince. You briefly wonder whether the love potion would smell like him.

Draco places jars and vials of ingredients on the table before collecting his cauldron from where he had placed it on the floor. He plants it on the stand before murmuring the warming charm so the bottom can heat up as he prepares the ingredients in the order that he needs them.

Draco instructs you through the potion; pausing every now and then for you to take down any notes. As you dip your quill in the ink pot for the fourth time, you think that Draco would make the perfect professor – he has a knack with words making explanations easier and relating them in a manner that are easily understood. Not to mention his passion for the subject comes across so clearly as he gestures with his hands and smiles all through his explanations.

He pauses part way through a sentence, “Let me know if I’m rambling too much, won’t you?”

“Of course, but I enjoy listening to you speak – you clearly love this subject, Draco.”

He looks away sheepishly, reading over the instructions he’s already memorised. “I’d like to be a Potions Professor once we leave here.”

“You’d be brilliant at it,” You reply immediately, “You have a talent for this, I already feel more confident in my potions ability.”

His blush from earlier returns as he murmurs, “Thank you. What are your plans for after?”

“I think I’d like to do something in the ministry; in the archives I think.”

Draco nods, understanding, “I’ve seen you in History of Magic. You’d suit the archives, with all the old documents.”

You laugh, “I just think the history of our society is so interesting.”

“You’d be a good professor, (Y/N).” Draco whispers.

“Let’s hope Professor Binns finally retires then,” You start, “That way we can work together.” You internally groan at your shoddy attempt at flirting, but Draco doesn’t seem to notice. He chuckles, “We’d make a good team.”

You stare down at your notes, fiddling with your quill, so Draco doesn’t see the giddy expression on your face.

Draco looks back to his instructions, glancing over the final few steps. He stirs the mixture clockwise for three more minutes before steam begins to rise from the cauldron.

He sits back into his seat, “There we go. All done.”

For a single minute, you watch the steam rise from the potion. Draco brewed it so effortlessly that you wonder where you had gone wrong the first time you attempted it. But with his instructions and his tutelage, you know that you would be able to brew it again successfully.

Temptation rises within you; the urge to lean over Draco’s cauldron and take a whiff of the potion becomes too much. Draco sees you shift in your chair, “Go on then,” he prompts, “What does it smell like?”

The fumes from the potion make your head spin slightly. They smell of something you’ve smelled before; of something you’ve been in close contact with recently.

Burnt sugar and rain give way to the delicate smell of roses.

And it hits you all of a sudden – you’re smelling the teenager sat next to you. Your heart races as you come to the realisation that the crush you had been harbouring for the blonde-haired teenager had evolved into something more.

The desperate thought runs through your head. The pleading thought of: please let him be my soulmate.

If you were already feeling this strongly about Draco, it would be hell on earth to find out that his soulmate was actually another.

“What did you smell then?” Draco asks as you sit back down in your chair.

You avoid his eyes as you say, “I’ll tell you once you have a smell.”

Draco frowns but he nods, nonetheless.

Draco bends over the cauldron, having noticed your reaction to the smell. He inhales deeply; the heady scent taking root within him.

Jasmine, citrus and orchids.

The smell of your perfume mixed with the floral smell of shampoo. It had settled around him.

He had a hunch it would smell like you. He’s had feelings for you since Fourth Year; smelling you perfume, and shampoo only confirmed what he already knew deep down – that he was in love with you.

Draco takes a step back from the table; the revelation hitting him all at one – so strongly it knocks the breath from him.

“I’ve had a thought.”

“I think I’m having the same one.” You say, standing up.

Draco’s eyes blaze as he states, “I think you’re my soulmate.”

You nod, “I think you’re my soulmate too.”

Draco holds his hand out to you; less than a centimetre away from you, but he doesn’t take the final step. Despite it all; despite the certainty, he cannot ignore the spike of fear running through his body. He never expected he would find his soulmate; he never expected that it would be you of all people. Draco had been crushing on you since Fourth Year; since you had sat next to him at dinner and asked his thoughts on the Triwizard Tournament – he was taken aback by your presence that he answered honestly, and the conversation that followed had been one of the most honest he had ever had.

You watch the myriad of emotions that flit over his face; trying to define each and every one of them. The certainty that you feel with the idea of Draco being your soulmate settles deep within your bones; combining with your genetic makeup. It all makes sense now; your feelings for Draco finally made sense.

You take the final step; taking his hand in yours, tangling your fingers together. His skin is smooth and soft against yours. His hand fits perfectly in yours, as if made for you.

And then time stops.

Time stops.

The steam from the Amortentia potion freezes; the ticking of the clock no longer sounds; the sound of younger students running up and down the corridor outside the classroom fall silent.

The only thing moving in this moment is you and Draco.

He draws you into his arms. One arm wrapping around your waist; the other caressing your cheek. His thumb rubs over your cheekbone as he smiles softly down at you. For a moment, neither of you speak for the small fear of breaking the instant in which you find yourselves. This time is so precious; it’s where everything is defined. You beam up at him, savouring the feel of his arm around your waist though you know that you have a lifetime to memorise the way he touches you.

“I never thought I would find you.” Draco whispers, in awe of the situation.

“You have. So what do you plan to do?”

“This.”

It’s all he says as he dips his head and kisses you.

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

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @the-hufflefluffwriter @summer-writes @harrypotter289 @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @kalimagik @figlia--della--luna

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush

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reinepadova · 3 years

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To Be Seen

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“The person who removes a mountain, begins by carrying away small stones.”

Sweet, bright, and floral – words that encapsulate the enticing smell wafting up from a beautifully carved tea tray, with the decanted water flowing down into its grooves to a catch basin underneath. Two pinming tea cups, already warmed and rinsed – painted in a beautiful array of geometric patterns – are a matched set with the tea pitcher currently pouring the first infusion.

“Your tea, Miss.” A large gloved hand – dark and unassuming, except for the dull shimmer of a large jade ring at its thumb, and a shining topaz gem cut in a sharp diamond at the wrist – pushed the filled drink with practiced ease near a seated figure, whose garbs of soft greens, subtle blues, and hints of black, signify a distant relation to the deceased.

“Thank you,” the figure said, her hand reaching for a cup, her head tilted to the unadorned wall. Though her arms seem relaxed, her shoulders were stiff, while her legs were tucked sideways, like a force of habit. She made a fine picture of poise and sophistication from afar, but perfectly humble in her mourning up close.

The host hummed graciously, savoring his first sip, noting the elegance in her figure despite the rather defensive posture. Hmm. If she remains unmoving, pain shall spread on her lower back.

“This drink is made from an evergreen shrub, which grows abundant at Jueyun Karst,” he began, calm dignity resonating in his voice. “It is said to be a place where the adepti enjoy their seclusion, hence the people's reluctance to disturb it's grounds. As such, these leaves are very rare. Only skilled herb gatherers that inherited the wisdom – and the courage – to traverse these lands are able to obtain them.”

“I see,” she replied, an empty cup waiting for a second infusion. He obliged and continued.

“Notice it's yellow hue? It is an accidental discovery. The color of dried tea leaves is normally green, with a taste that range from bittersweet to nutty, or from floral to oceanic. Some, on the other hand, would go so far as to liken it to simple vegetation. 'Grassy', they would say. Hmm. Tea may not be their beverage of choice.”

“Fascinating,” his guest replied, even tone barely hiding polite disinterest. He quirked a slight brow but remained undeterred - he's had encounters with people more ornery in years past.

As curious as her passively hostile behavior towards him has been for the past few days, he shall not stoop low to the level of the ignorant – like those at the marketplace, who circulate hearsays that leave much to be desired. He's only grateful young Mei is spared, for he may start questioning the integrity of his people.

He turned auric eyes down to his cup, watching the idle swirl of the liquid within.

He may only know just the surface of her troubles – like the vague taste of anguish from the void of her dreams – but he's determined to release the pressure through the cracks of her facade, like flushing steam from a smoking mount.

He knows beneath a calm mountain, lies a dissonance that could erupt, painfully and forcefully, at any given moment.

“But years ago, it is said a farmer had forgotten to dry out a batch of these leaves. And a cloth, flung free from a drying line, landed from above, sealing the warm moisture on them shut for a full summer's day. To the farmer's delight, the taste of the finished tea turned light and mellow, and the so-called grassy flavor gone without consequence. This procedure is now known as 'sealing yellow', the widely accepted finish for the tea we enjoy now.”

“How interesting.”

“Quite so.”

Hmm. Mayhaps the origins of tea may not be of interest?

Silence reigned heavily on the two tea companions, like too much burnt incense hanging in the air. A low cough from one tried to break through the discomfort, while the other remained resolutely silent.

“Would you prefer a different drink? We have other varieties that may be more palatable for your taste.”

The lady seem to snap out of thought, shaking her head insistently while eyeing the gloved hand that moved to remove her cup. “No. That's unnecessary. This will do. Thank you for your service,” she dismissed, gently but concisely, with an unconscious hand rubbing at her eyes.

“Is there nothing else I may assist in?” he asked, subdued, concern coloring his words. His uncharacteristically tilted head missed entirely by the lady's distraction.

“No,” came the tired reply, an undertone of exasperation escaping in the same breath.

“...nothing at all?”

She seem to take a deep breath, holding it for a minute, before letting it out in one, even sigh.

Not far from the one-sided conversation, peeking at the side of a privacy screen, the seventy-seventh director of Wangsheng looked on, a feline smile stretched across her face. She watched, with growing giddiness, at the most hilarious drama she'd ever witness in her waking years yet!

“Hu Tao-zhǔrèn? Should we not intervene?” Ferrylady whispered, glancing worriedly at the guest lounge herself. She wanted to help dispel such a morose atmosphere, as ironic as that is, for it is her duty for an honored guest, as well as to their noble consultant.

“Shhh~ Not now, Ferrylady. This is getting good.”

“But, madam, this has been going on for three days. Progress is no where to be found.”

“Exactly. This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to this place!”

"Madam. 'Exciting' is counterproductive to what we strive for in this business."

Ferrylady knew her young boss would have squealed if not for their absolute need for discretion.

No good thing comes from eavesdropping such a private exchange after all.

Hu Tao just hushed her again, silently crawling forward to get a better view. The shadow of the large vase their dear consultant insisted they buy the other day made for a good hiding spot. Something about its story being a distraction for the distraught passed through her mind.

“Miss Ferrylady? H-Hu-zhǔrèn? Why are you crouching down there?”

The two snapped their attention to their new employee, who wore a very bemused expression while pulling at the collar of his stiff uniform.

“Shh! Meng, do you want the troubled souls in the parlor to catch your feet? Drop down behind us now and complete the formation. This is your first assignment~” Hu Tao murmured seriously, an unreadable twinkle reflecting in her eyes. Meng would have gasped out loud if he hadn't slapped his hands over his mouth.

He swiftly did as he was told, back brushing against the wall in the cramped space, before he swiveled worried eyes all around them. Ferrylady just sighed, familiar with their director's ways of keeping someone quiet.

“Now keep quiet for the next half hour you two. Act Two is about to begin~”

-{-}-

Stella mildly wondered if it would be child neglect to jump from the pier right outside the parlor, leaving Mei all alone. It's the only thing she could think of right now to prevent herself from strangling this, this – ugh! This persistent man!

She knows there is a custom of not speaking with customers, out of respect for old tradition – but this one seem to have missed the memo.

Before the day Mei's grandmother passed, the old woman had enough breath to tell her where she wished to have her wake, what she and Mei should wear, what their manners should be during mourning period, and other matters relating to Mei's future.

But despite her meticulous notetaking – her brushstrokes needed lots of work, she knows – Stella still felt unprepared for the kind of reception she received at the infamous Wangsheng ever since their return back at the Harbor.

After tucking in a sleepy Mei in her room, Stella went straight to the parlor, placing three of the Glaze Lilies in the simple pots she requested in advance, nestling them in between wreaths of white flowers surrounding the covered body.

When she finished burning the joss paper for a final offering, she jumped at the male voice directly from behind her. Whirling around, her heart skipped a beat, brows falling low at his short salutation.

The gentleman before her wore a suit that was subtle in opulence, and elegant in form – a large contrast to the uniform worn by the undertakers that assisted her and Mei before taking off to Qingce Village. She noted the thick rings that contrasted against his gloves – rings worn on the thumb, symbolizing the authority the wearer wields, as well as the arrogance boasting of wealth. Her brow had twitched.

“Good evening. May I ask why is the boss of Wangsheng seeing me?” she inquired, arms crossed. Its the only explanation for someone of importance to act like a host in the dark hall.

Despite the hammering beat in her chest, and the lost of color from her face, she stood tall with a firm stance – bracing herself in case this man mocks her for her ignorance. But when no sound of condescension came, she felt unsettled, and focused on his shining tie instead.

It's an unfortunate habit she has around these types she has yet to break, but a good enough technique to show they still have her attention. They usually have some sort of trinket on them – a silken pocket square, an heirloom brooch, or a collar clip – so its not difficult to direct her eye near their neck.

She could have glanced up to a point near their ear, to give the illusion of eye contact - but she didn’t want to remember their face, she has no interest to know of it, to know of them. She has no plans of interacting with this person ever, if she could manage it.

But she was brought out of her thoughts by a sudden chuckle, a smooth and sonorous sound, like rumbling thunder in the distance. It was not taunting or haughty, like she had expected. It sounds like a relief of tension – like heavy rainfall after a long dry spell. Stella took a step back, surprised at her passing thought that it sounded attractive. “I am not the boss of this hallowed hall, much to the confusion of most. You are not the only one who assume so. I am merely one of its consultants. Wangsheng caters to all needs, no matter the status, affiliation, or ethnicity. Hence its forthright pursuit for various advisors in order to fulfill any request – for the benefit of the living, and those that have passed.

I myself do my best to be of assistance to any of our customers, when present.”

“That's, uh, nice?” Stella stuttered, utterly speechless. Not because the explanation lacked clarity – it’s actually worded very eloquently – but because this man, this consultant, was still talking to her, despite the lack of eye contact – a discourtesy these types would easily recognize. It was practically beaten into her head that it was a shameful habit, growing up – that no man would want to be her husband if she does not get over it.

Which motivated her more to never want marriage.

She could feel his eyes roving over her face, the path of their focus mostly resting on her cheeks –surprisingly, never straying down. “Indeed. And if I may say so, you seem to need a boost of energy. Or perhaps a good rest. We offer drinks that could assist you with either. If you allow it, I will prepare it to your liking.”

She tucked her head down, not knowing what to say. Not because she felt flattered or embarrassed by the attention of such an attractive-sounding individual.

But... the thing is –

She hates men.

She really, really hates men.

Growing up in a household that treated her more like a prize than a living being, she had no real choice on how to live her life. Powerful men of elevated backgrounds would strut before her, fluttering their clothes made from rare threads to show off their affluence, leering in greed and unwanted desire at her place behind a special dais – layers of gauzy silks the only physical protection she has from their disgusting gazes. But they were never thick enough for her to block out the absolutely dark intentions in their eyes, nor the reverberating hunger in their sleazy words. It made her skin crawl badly every time – feeling phantom insect's feet trail up and down her arms, creeping sludge up her throat, until it claw up to the sensitive skin of her scalp. No matter how much she bathes in scorching hot water after every encounter, skin scrubbed raw and red, she never manages to erase the feeling right away. Only in sleep could she hope to find peace.

If she even could.

They tell her that her feelings were irrelevant. Her treatment – expected. After all, everyone is led to believe she inherited attributes that show she has the blood of those that dwell in the heavens – in the upper universe that human beings could only dream to reach. And thus her body is seen as a sacred vessel, a carrier for future generations to come – perfect beings that would never suffer from mortal wounds, or mortal illnesses. The mother that shall birth the perfect world. You are one being that can propagate, and produce the most flawless humans the world has ever seen. Humans that would become the paragon for everyone else to aspire to! –

Stella scoffed mutely, unfolding her arms, before stepping back into place. That was what her foolish cousin had thought. Had believed. Had obsessed.

He was a brilliant scholar. A specialist of the unknown. And a zealous believer of their family's history and sacred roots. His fixation with perfection is a flaw in and of itself. A selfish desire that eventually led to everyone's death – especially one she held most dear – Selene. Her sister by name, if not by direct blood. The only relative that actually cared for her, that loved her, that protected her when no one else would.

Selene was the one that taught her how to sing – how to hone the beauty in her voice. She taught her how to fight – with a weapon used by an ancestor who fought her fate until the last of her breath.

Selene taught a many great things, especially other skills that would have otherwise been useless if she was still in her own world – a world that pampered her like a sacred idol, with wings clipped short in a gilded cage.

The very memory of Selene dying in her arms serve as a reminder to never be selfish. To be mindful. To remember that even just one person's open hand is enough to live life for.

But, right now, with her muscles straining from holding her stiff position for so long, she is very much in a mindset to defy her own oath.

She really hates men.

But... she's trying not to. She has to not to – for Meilin's sake:

Most of the fishmongers at the harbor are men – Mei loves seafood.

Most of the chefs are men – Mei loves well-cooked food.

All of the guards are men – Mei trusts them to protect their house and harbor.

If not for Mei, Stella would have gone to live as a hermit by now, fishing or hunting for her own meals, cultivate her own harvests, or protect herself from foolish thieves.

For Mei, she will persevere. For Mei, she will try.

But –

She really hates men.

Specifically, this type of man.

Those greedy monsters cloaked in beauty and money. That speak well of culture and knowledge – both useless, and worthless. For it is a mere show of having been educated on knowledge the masses could not afford to have.

Her heart had not skipped a beat because she finds him attractive – she still doesn’t know what he looks like. But from his clothes, his manners, his flowery words, she could only conclude one thing: this is the type of husband her family had wanted. The traditional type that wanted a traditional wife.

Out of all the typical traits that kind of wife should have: bearing many children, many perfect children, was the main goal. All the while she must always be silent, until spoken to. Be obedient without question. And wise enough to know her place – while being the perfect trophy her husband could boast about.

Stella took deep, silent breaths, controlling her thoughts from making her jump to conclusions.

She had to tread carefully with any man in this world. The people at the market were nice enough so far. Respectful of deals, and follows through with their word.

But, she's not blind to the staring – both the subtle, and the obvious.

Her face, unfortunately, is one of the attributes she inherited from their family's progenitor, their beloved ancestor, and it's been described as appealing at worse, and magnificent at best.

But she pays these no mind. Complements are empty words after all. Especially when they find out she can no longer produce children. That's alright. She has long accepted that any who show interest in her, will soon disregard it after they learn of her disability. Traditional men especially, will throw her away.

That's why – although she has her oath for Selene, and a promise for Gran-gran and Mei – she herself could never give an eternal vow to anyone. Not anymore.

Not after what she's done to herself.

But despite her cold aloofness day after day, night after night, this man remained persistent. Kept pestering to cater to her needs, when she made it perfectly clear the Ferrylady was doing a great job of taking care of her already. That he should focus on more important clientele than her.

Unfortunately, it's the sixth day now of Gran-gran's funeral, and she's still being served personally by the stubborn consultant with the alluring voice, who wouldn't stop inquiring if she was able to get a good night's sleep after clearly seeing she isn't. She knows the bags under her eyes are getting darker, and the whites of her eyes turning red with dryness.

It's times like this she misses those blissful sleep of white nothingness – the long morning nap, and the night she and Mei had to camp out before arriving at the harbor. The only explanation for them was the presence of that little guardian that wrapped around her snuggly like a giant tree in its branches – one made out of scales, and gems, and warmth.

Ah. But it isn't a tree, is it? It was a dragon – or so Mei said. A legendary creature that is normally large and serpentine in form and built – either something that brings about disorder and chaos, or something that protects with might and force.

“Good thing Mr. Guardian is the protector type!” Mei had added brightly, even though Stella knew the little girl was extremely disheartened to see it disappear in the distance after escorting them to the edge of Liyue Harbor, fluffy tail flickering in a silent wave.

She will admit to miss its strange, yet comforting presence. The soothing calm she can feel as she stares at its amber eyes – whether out of vexation or gratitude. It would wrap around her like a thick blanket, enveloping her in a warmth she could feel in her bones, and in her heart.

Ah, well. Maybe she'll look to tame one of the strays around the area. See which ones are easy to domesticate. Maybe, one of them would have eyes as gold as Mr. Guardian. Maybe then she'll be able to cuddle up to something and get some much needed sleep.

-{-}-

As the lady continued to fantasize of respite, a lost look entering her eyes, Morax thought now is the right time for a change. Where diplomacy fails, action may succeed.

When her hand moved to subtly rest at her waist, trying to reach her back, and a pained look briefly passed over her expression, he acted – for the first time – without a second thought.

“You have not slept well after I left, have you?”

Morax murmured low, well aware of their audience in the background, but reached out to her nonetheless, touching the tip of her nose, hoping his action would trigger a memory, their memory, together.

He patiently waited for her indignant squeals and sputters to subside, staring steadily at her face until her angry gaze focused back on his.

She turned silent immediately, a great confusion painted her features. Her hand hovered close to his face – no doubt to slap him for his boldness.

The quiet this time was not uncomfortable – it felt very nostalgic, like the thrum of water drops on stone, or the hum of rocks being mined from the earth.

The kind of silence that defined their first meeting, letting her tug him free from her pack, and staring at him with open bewilderment – with awe-filled curiosity set deep in her exquisite eyes.

“...Mr. Guardian?” she uttered, like a secret, both hopeful and afraid. She withdrew her hand to cover her mouth, while her body sagged heavily on her chair.

Sitting still was never a problem, but the want to comfort made his hand ache. He could only smile for now, to acknowledge the charming moniker, and to prevent from startling her further.

Blinking once, she took in his face. Blinking twice, she fisted her hand.

She suddenly covered her eyes, rubbing them incessantly, as if his image burned her physically and she's trying to find relief. He gave in and reached out, holding them still – something he could not do before lest he hurt her with his claws.

When she focused back on him, eyes turning anxious, Morax slowly lifted a third infused cup, carefully wrapped her fingers around it, before slowly letting go. He rested his arms at his sides and turned entirely to her – hoping his body language was open enough for her to let down her guard, just as she always was while he was Exuvia. He noticed her sitting up straight against her chair, eyes asking questions upon questions mutely in the air.

A dull thud from behind them went unnoticed.

“Please. Have a drink. Let it soothe your nerves.

The sea breeze outside will do much good for your head. Let me escort you to where the water meets the wall. And there, we might be afforded better privacy for your questions,” Morax softly besieged. He cut his gaze to the screen behind them, letting his focus rest on it for some time. Nearly silent sets of feet scurried away after a moment.

“Okay,” the lady consented, breaking through his concentration. When Morax gazed back, she took a long, slow sip, seeming to finally savor the tea he served, making him sit a little straighter in his seat. Her eyes softened slowly, and watered as recognition set in, which in turn made him tug at the corner of his lips in relief.

-{-}-

A knock was heard, before the slide of the door reached Meng's ears. “Yahooo. How is she? Have you revived Ferrylady yet?”

“Uhm, I'm afraid not, ma'am. Maybe this is a good thing? It's better if she has her rest for the night,” Meng whispered back, blowing the lantern light out as his co-worker rested heavily on her bed.

The director and undertaker silently went out, walking away from the sleeping quarters as both thought back on the circumstances of the Ferrylady's fainting. “Yeah. Might as well~ Zhongli-xiānsheng certainly put her in quite a shock. I almost saw her spirit escape from her! Too bad it happened before we got to see what our consultant did to make our guest putty in his hands. Looks like that hermit strikes again! At least this time the lady seems like his age – physically I mean – and totally not like his stuffy personality. I like her~” Hu Tao sang, thinking of giving the lady a small discount on the incense she'll need to use tomorrow.

“W-would it really be alright to leave them alone?” Meng asked, nervously pulling at his gloves.

“Hmm? Any concerns I should know about? Oh! Is she one of those pretending to play 'hard to get', but actually wants to snatch Zhongli-xiānsheng for herself~?” Hu Tao asked, fluttering her eyes exaggeratedly.

“No, Hu-zhǔrèn! You got it entirely wrong.”

“Oh?”

Meng furrowed his brow, organizing his thoughts. “From what I heard, as well as my own experience in assisting her, she tends to avoid men. All men. Except maybe the kids and the grandpas. I saw her hand quake once when I accidentally brushed hands with her trying to move her potted plants for her.”

“I didn't think you had it in you. You sly dog~”

“No no no, Hu-zhǔrèn! You misunderstand again!” Meng waved his arms frantically in front on him. “I mean... yes! I'll admit she's very beautiful. A-and she seems considerate, and kind. But she's a little, uhh, too beautiful? Even I know I'm not a good match for her. But her skittish behavior makes me feel like, like scum – like the lowest of the low,” he said dejectedly, shoulders falling. “She makes me feel guilty for even breathing in her space.”

Hu Tao hummed, a finger on her lips, before her brows quirked up in surprise at Meng’s suddenly spirited stance. “A few of the guys at the wharf noticed too, and speculated something must have happened to her. It's really sad to think of the possibilities. But we all talked about it, and agreed to do our best to be gentle in our interactions with her. No touch. Keep a good distance. And watch our words. We don’t want her to feel like we’re boars on the prowl.”

“Wow. Well done, Meng,” whistled Hu Tao, smiling wide.

“E-erm. Thank you?” Meng scratched at his head, face turning red in embarrassment.

“That's the longest I've heard you speak. Ever! I'm so proud of you~ You're not such a pitiful scaredy cat aftercall,” Hu Tao hooted in glee.

“W-what? M-madam...” Meng groaned, head falling down on his chest in dismay.

Hu Tao giggled softly, and changed her carefree stance. She gently patted him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Just kidding~ You really have to lighten up.

But, I didn't lie. What you're doing is very honorable. And even if you're too common for someone like her, I'm sure in time she'll notice and appreciate what you all are doing.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? Ugh. I still don't understand the director. I have so much to learn.

“Besiiides. If you guys are honorable already as ordinary citizens, what more someone of Zhongli-xiānsheng's caliber?”

Meng nodded, smiling brightly. “You're absolutely right, ma'am. I should not have doubted his intentions.”

“Maybe by now, he's escorting her home. So let's have faith in our reliable consultant!”

“Yes, ma'am!”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

[←Previous] | Chapter 6 | [ Next → ]

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A/N: Just to clarify, Hu Tao meant Zhongli is such a devastating lady-killer. He just doesn’t know it. And yes, more eye-flirting with these two. Sighs. He has such pretty eyes. Updated again on 04/15/2021 because I’m my own biggest critic.

Gong fu style of serving tea is so mesmerizing to watch. I can see Zhongli do it every time.

Fun fact: In ancient China, yellow tea was indeed considered very rare. And since yellow is the traditional imperial color, only emperors are able to enjoy it. Unless they deem a guest fit to be served the tea - which is considered a high honor.

Zhongli’s rerun banner is coming up sooner than I thought. I should have known Genshin would have a mid-anniversary thing too. Or something like it. I panicked, caved in, and bought the Blessing of the Welkin. His mats are not readyyyy aiyaah

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Follower Tag: @meladollsims

#to be seen #zhongli #zhongli x female OC #zhongli x oc #fanfiction #shapeshifting archon #ferrylady #hu tao #meng #Wangsheng's side business is matchmaking

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Strangers ch. 42

Yoongi confronts your attacker, and you awaken from one nightmare into another.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“What? Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house before I call the police!” The redhead reaches for the door in an attempt to close it, but Yoongi’s hold is too strong. He’s been waiting for this moment for two weeks– and he won’t let the opportunity slip away.

“You don’t know me, Seoyeon? And here I thought you were a fan.” With his free hand, Yoongi reaches up and pulls down his mask. Seoyeon’s sneer falls in an instant, replaced with the look of utter shock and adoration that Yoongi knows so well.

“Yoon-Suga? Wait, oh- oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my-” Seoyeon’s eyes roll up into her head and she keels over backwards, hitting the floor with a heavy thump.

Well, that was quick. Y/n fainted too, Yoongi remembers, when she first saw him. Looking at the fallen girl, part of Yoongi wants to feel sympathy for her. After all, she’s a fan.

But then he remembers Y/n shaking as she told Yoongi what the woman in front of him had done to her. He remembers every time he saw his friend flinch at a light breeze, the tremor in her voice when she explained that scar on her leg, and his own fear at finding Y/n’s bloody coat in the river.

All because of her. And so Yoongi lets himself into the house, quietly closing the door behind him as he waits for her to wake up.

It had taken D two weeks to find Kang Seoyeon’s name and address from nothing more than the photo Yoongi had gotten off of Lisa’s laptop. Only now, as he stares at the woman’s motionless frame, Yoongi wonders if she really could have been capable of hurting Y/n like that. She’s pretty, petite, and vaguely reminds Yoongi of a pixie.

Another minute passes before Seoyeon begins to shift groggily. “Wha…”

“I’m not helping you up,” Yoongi says shortly.

Seoyeon’s head snaps up, her piercing eyes capturing Yoongi’s own. “Suga. Suga! It really wasn’t a dream?” She scrambles to her feet, reaching forward, and Yoongi suddenly feels as though he’s about to be eaten alive.

“I knew it,” Seoyeon whispers reverently. “Cap said you’d come to me. We’re meant to be.”

Y/n’s right– she’s psycho.

Yoongi feels darkness pooling in his heart, and loathing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care what you think is meant to be. But there’s someone I do care about– and you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to her.”

“I- what… oh!” Seoyeon lowers her arms, an eerie smile growing on her face, much too wide to seem genuine. “You mean Y/n?”

Yoongi growls– a low, animalistic rumble– as he takes a step closer. “You tried to kill her.”

“But- ah,” Seoyeon seems to wince at the cold fury in his voice. Good. “I did it to protect you! Y/n thinks you belong to her, but you don’t!” Faster than Yoongi can react, Seoyeon’s hands shoot out and grab Yoongi’s shoulders with a grip forceful enough to hurt, the smile never leaving her face. “You belong to me, to us, Suga! To ARMYs!”

Shit. She’s stronger than he expected. But perhaps…

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Yoongi says, lacing a note of authority into his tone. Unbelievably, Seoyeon’s grip loosens, and Yoongi uses the opportunity to push her hands away from him.

I don’t belong to anyone,” Yoongi continues forcefully, watching Seoyeon seem to shrink before him. “And nothing gives you the right to hurt her!”

Seoyeon pauses, and the house is dead silent for an eternal minute. “Nothing?” She begins snickering– quietly at first, but soon enough she doubles over with laughter. “You really don’t know what’s going to happen to your pretty little girlfriend, do you?”

It’s as though Yoongi’s blood has turned to ice. “What?”

“Ooh, you don’t know! Well, Cap said not to say…” Seoyeon pretends to think.

Yoongi grinds his teeth together in frustration; he knows he’s being baited, but if Y/n’s in danger… “Tell me.”

Seoyeon’s eyes are blown out as she stares at Yoongi, licking her lips. “I’d consider it a favor. I’d be willing to do you a lot of favors, you know. I’m… very good at favors.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurches. He doesn’t want to know what Seoyeon would do to him. “Don’t give me more reasons to call the cops. I could have you arrested.”

Seoyeon laughs again. “For what?”

“Attempted murder isn’t enough?” Yoongi fires back. “You nearly killed Y/n, you bi-”

“There’s no evidence. No one saw anything– I’m untouchable.” Seoyeon advances menacingly. “But you know who isn’t? Y/n.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to– he’s not sure; Question? Yell? Threaten?– when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He winces, unwilling to tear his eyes from the predator before him. Still, it could be Y/n– and Yoongi’s been worrying over her condition. He places himself between Seoyeon and the door before answering his phone, eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes?”

“Yo, Gloss, that girl you got me tracking down with the shitty dye job?”

Oh, it’s just his old friend. “D, I’m busy, let me call you later.”

“Nah, man, you gotta hear this. You’re gonna like it.”

Seoyeon stands motionless before him. Yoongi’s time before his driver bursts in is almost up and he hasn’t gotten a confession. “Fine. What is it?”

“Remember that photo of you and your girl that went viral a while back?”

How could he forget? The infamous picture from that night got him and Y/n into the whole publicity mess and changed their relationship forever.

“I was tracking Seoyeon’s IP address and digging through her socials… dude, the original photo came from one of her accounts.”

Yoongi’s blood turns to ice as D continues: “A bunch of these ARMY girls have backup accounts, and this one’s hers. You’ve got a stalker, my man.”

Could it be true? Had Kang Seoyeon followed Yoongi to the hospital and found Y/n? Were her injuries and trauma his fault?

Yoongi swallows, feeling the wave of anxiety almost drown him before he pushes it away. Not now.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he manages.

“No worries. Yo, what’s wrong? Are you-” Beep. Yoongi hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. You were going to tell me everything you know about Y/n and anyone that could hurt her.”

Seoyeon laughs, a pitched, wild noise. “Excuse me? Who said I’d tell you anything?”

Yoongi barely has to lean forward until he’s so close that Seoyeon needs to tilt her head up to look at him. “I did.”

Yoongi can hear her breath catch, practically seeing the wheels turning in her head. If she’s truly as obsessive as he thinks she is…

After a pause, Seoyeon grins. “Fine. Cap’s gonna hate me, but fine. I’ll tell you everything, and just in case you think I’m bullshitting, I’ll show you I mean business… for a price.”

Yoongi blinks. Is she bluffing? Could Y/n really be in danger? Am I in danger too?

“So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n. It’s for Y/n. But is it worth it?

~~~

“Help! Help me!” A garbled, genderless voice yells.

“I’m trying!” You cry, running through the empty streets. The voice echoes around every corner. “Tell me where you are! I don’t know how to help you!”Suddenly you trip, falling hard. The pavement has turned into your bed, your legs tangled in the sheets.

“No one needs help from a traitor,” the same voice says from inside your head. “A liar.”

You struggle to rise, but your mattress seems to envelop you, pulling you in, and instead of soft sheets and down you’re surrounded by ice, unable to find purchase.

“I’m not a liar!” You scream, scrabbling for grip as the ice rises past your shoulders. Goosebumps erupt on your flesh and you begin shivering violently, the only movement the ice will allow. “T-t-tell me ho-w to f-find you!”

“Find me?” The ice finishes swallowing you whole, the gaping chasm closing above your head. You know you shouldn’t be able to breathe but your chest still rises and falls with the desperate action. “All you have to do… is look in a mirror.” The ice beneath your feet disappears and you’re dropped into the yawning darkness. You blink and the area is suddenly flooded with light. You’re in a jail cell, empty except for a large mirror. You feel something dry and sweet in your mouth, and when you glance at the mirror…

Lisa stares back at you, a pastry between her teeth. You spit it out, reaching forward. Lisa mirrors you, her hand outstretched.

“Where are you?” You murmur, watching as your words escape Lisa’s mouth. Suddenly her lips in the mirror curl into a smirk.

“I’m right in front of you. I always have been.”

“No!” Your eyes fly open, your heart thundering. You clutch at your chest, feeling as though the hand is holding your very being from falling to pieces. Fumbling for your phone, you wince at the bright screen before noticing the time. 4:00– well, it’s longer than you’ve managed to sleep all week. You groan at yet another nightmare, falling back onto your pillow with a sense of defeat. You hate this fear within you, but what can you do? Lisa’s gone and the redhead may have gotten to her. The detective told you not to worry, but how can you not worry? And now your mom is cutting you off, and you might have to drop out, and Lisa is gone, and it seems like the only constant left in your life is Yoongi.

Yoongi. You chuckle hollowly, falling back onto your pillow. He’s the least consistent person you know, but at least he’s always been there for you.

Ignoring your stomach’s rumbling protests, you close your eyes and turn over, praying sleep takes you again.

And take you it does– sweet, dreamless sleep captures you and when you blearily awake again it’s with sunlight streaming through your windows. It must be late in the morning already. Your phone buzzes obnoxiously with what sound like dozens of notifications.

Maybe I should just delete Twitter, you muse defeatedly as you flip over your phone, scrolling mindlessly through your mentions. Right away, you notice something strange:

@bangtan_thotyeondan: yo I hated on @yourname at first but tbh that was a brutal move by #SUGA :(

@armyteez23: I told @queerqueen this would happen! @yourname deserves better umu

@captainkookie21: I told you @BTS_twt @yourname

@dduddudude: Y’all feeling bad for @yourname when the bitch had it coming all along

@bangtan-news: (1/3)BREAKING! #SUGA announces the relationship with @yourname is OVER! A thread:

@bangtan-news: (2/3)In an exclusive interview, #SUGA discussed the break from @yourname and his new girlfriend, @seoyeonnie-loves-bts!

@bangtan-news: (3/3) @yourname has not released a statement on the situation. Stay tuned!

Your jaw drops. The relationship is over? New girlfriend? What... what happened? You click on the linked profile and check @seoyeonnie-loves-bts’s most recent post– it’s just a photo with a heart caption.

You suddenly feel sick. The- it- it’s…

“You.” You whisper, all blood draining from your face. “You. And…”

The photo is of a beautiful redheaded girl. Her. She’s beaming, fingers interlaced with those of a very familiar man.

You stare into Yoongi’s eyes in the photo, trying desperately to see something that isn’t there. You struggle for a second to form words, barely able to breathe. “You.”

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paulvibe · 5 years

Text

The Assistant (Paul McCartney x reader) Pt. 3

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: this chapter is so boring and more of a filler. I am so stuck on it and can’t figure out how to get passed this fucking thing. I mean, I wrote chapters that take place after this one that are like three times the size of this one so like- im making up for this promise!!!!

September 1968

You were stocking up the snack table, when the studio door opened with a pop. Feet plundered down the steps of the recording room and your focus turned to the noise. Your eyes met the sight of Paul; seemingly lively today, a bounce added to his step.

“Morning darling.” He spoke, his voice giving you chills.

“Good morning Paul.” You spoke. His eyes sparkled when your gazes met, and his grin grew slightly.

“How’re you?” He asked while he grabbed a carton of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

“Tired. But who isn’t these days?” You spoke, turning back around. You mindlessly picked up some candies and started to arrange them. Paul lit a match and puffed the cigarette, resulting in trails of smoke billowing around you.

“You really shouldn’t smoke those first thing in the morning” You joked, turning back around. Paul inhaled as if to speak, but the door opening again startled the two of you. John walked down the steps, this time without Yoko.

“Morning. (Y/N) I need you.” John spoke, his voice calm. You nodded and quietly excused yourself from Paul, walking over to the long-haired man. He escorted you out the recording booth and into a back office of the studio.

“What’s this about?” You asked quietly, sitting into the desk chair.

“I need you to schedule some events for Yoko ‘n I” He spoke, pulling out his notebook. You let out a breath you’d been holding, grabbing a notepad and pen nearby.

“Of course,” You mumbled, “What’re the dates?”

John told you the dates and times, with the buildings and rooms that needed to be rented as well. Afterwards, you gazed at his face while he wrote a few things down on his notebook. He sported a t-shirt today, with some tight flared jeans. His round glasses had slid down his nose, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his hair was greasy.

“How’re you today, love?” You asked him softly. He gently placed the pencil down he had in his grasp, and looked back at you.

“M’ alright.” The man responded. It was rare John shared his feelings with you. Now a days he mainly keeps to himself… and Yoko.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked him. John sighed, and looked down at his lap.

“C’mon John love, speak to me.” You urged, scooting the desk chair closer to the chair he sat in. The man fidgeted with the pencil in his lap and then looked up to meet your eyesight. What was wrong with John?

“I’m fine, love.” He spoke, standing up and exiting the small office with haste. You sighed and slumped your shoulders.

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

Later in the day the boys were scheduled for a press interview; mainly to keep appearances up. Klein was worried that the rumors of the band splitting were getting taken too seriously, thus a public appearance was expected. It’s taking place right outside of Apple Corps. with a stand set up on the sidewalk and microphones fixed to it. There was enough space along the sidewalk for the news companies to sit but, for more room, the street was going to be blocked off as well. The news as well as fans and spectators had started to fill in the sidewalk and street. Police kept the civilians separate so only legitimate press companies could ask questions. You were inside with the boys while the team took care of setting up the sidewalk. Mr. Klein was here as well, though he was mainly dealing with the crew.

“Alright, about,” You paused to look at your watch, “Three minutes til we need you out there.” You then glanced up and locked eyes with each of the boys. You met George’s first, he had a gentle gleam across his face. Followed by Ringo, who cheekily smiled. John was next, and it was a straight faced glance. Paul was last, he had a subtle beam about him. They were actually quite pleasant today; George and Ringo came in quite splendid moods, cheering up Paul and John with their humor. You began to usher them towards the entrance of Apple Corps, pushing past random crew members along the way.

Once outside the building, screams erupted from the spectators and fans. George and Paul politely waved while Ringo threw up peace signs. John, however, didn’t remove his hands from his pockets. They stood next to the other behind the large podium while people finished getting ready; Ringo and George lit cigarettes after settling in. You and Mr. Klein stood next to the doors and to the right of the boys while security personnel were on the left. The press were already taking photos, sending bright flashes to temporarily blind anyone who faced the crowd. As everybody settled in, Mr. Klein walked to the podium, pushed past the boys, and grabbed a microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Thank you for joining us today. We’ve got about twenty minutes with the boys here, so keep your statements quick and to the point. Alright, take it away; questions?” The press erupted, standing up and yelling. Klein pointed to a petite woman in the front row holding a notepad and pen.

“Ringo, Do you have any political affiliations at all?” She yelled over the murmuring street crowd. Ringo leaned towards the microphone, but John cut him off.

“No, he doesn’t even smoke.”

“I don’t even smoke,.” Ringo replied with a cheeky smile as he took a drag. The crowd burst into action again, hoping to be picked by Klein. He pointed to a man near the back.

“John, there’s a rumor in the Beatles paper that you might be leaving the group?” He yelled, holding a camera and a tape recorder.

“Rubbish, I’m contracted. I’ve been tryna get out for years.” John responded, his tone complimenting the dry sense of humor. You stood there looking at the vast amounts of people. Many of them were women, ranging from all sorts of ages. Men were scattered throughout the group as well. Some were just passing by, probably on their way to their jobs, others would stop and stare as if The Beatles were a foreign concept.

You’d zoned out and missed a few questions but didn’t realize until Klein’s voice drew you back in. He’d picked another reporter who eagerly bounced waiting for the crowd to quiet.

“Mr. McCartney, can you explain as to why you were at an intimate breakfast date with miss (Y/L/N) on Saturday?” The reporter asked. Your eyes shot open and over to Paul who remained calm and didn’t even turn his attention to you.

“We were discussing business.” He answered seamlessly, lighting up a cigarette. The crowd burst into action again, but you merely zoned out. Somehow, over the cries of civilians and yells from reporters your brain went quiet.

-----

“What the hell was that?” Klein questioned, anger laced his tone. After the press conference, the boys went back to working while Klein called you into his office. He paced the small room hands behind his back while you sat across from him.

“Was what, sir?” You asked in quiet tone. You knew exactly what he was talking about but didn’t want to admit it yet.

“You and Paul?” He answered, voice still heavy.

“We had breakfast, talked schedules, nothing more.” You responded, fiddling with your hands. The man shook his head and sat in his desk chair; you could see the strain on his face. The room was so quiet the boys could be heard yelling down the hall about one thing or another.

“Just, stay away from Paul.” Klein spoke after a few moments. Your chest felt tight with every word. “He’s always been a trouble maker.” Venom truly laced his tone. You knew Klein and Paul had never gotten along, but now it was almost as though Klein was controlling the bass players relationships now.

“Yes Sir.” Your gaze shifting to gather your things. You didn’t even bother to look at the man before you swiftly exited his office. The door closed behind you, and you sighed as tears burning your eyes.

You’d managed to blink away the tears with a few deep breaths before walking to the small communal kitchen. Thoughts raced your mind as you made a cup of tea to calm your nerves. Could Mr. Klein even control you in that way? He has no say over your personal life, what if Paul involved your personal life? You’d gotten this job as an advancement in your career, but was it worth it? As of right now it didn’t feel that way. Sure, it’s in your contract that you can’t date any of the boys, but it didn’t say you couldn’t flirt with them… or one specifically. It was frustrating.

Once you finished heating up some water, you grabbed a teabag and headed back to the recording booth. The boys laughing about something made you smile a little as you entered the room. John and George were talking about one of George’s songs while Paul played a little tune on the Piano and Ringo lit up a cigarette. Ringo’s attention turned to you and he let out a smile and wave as you walked down the steps. You returned the grin and sat in a small armchair.

They continued to play, sometimes doing separate things until it was time to run through a song. You kept your distance from Paul except for if he needed assistant help. Though Klein keeping a watchful eye from the sound booth was making it hard to so much as give the bass player a glance.

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

A/N 2: I’m almost finished with the chapter after this one, and I’m going to upload it tonight, if not tomorrow <3 luv yall.

-------- ps here’s my masterlist ;) and Pt. 4

Taglist: @vixenstail <3

#paul mccartney fanfic #paul mccartney fanfiction #the beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles x reader

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mysteli · 5 years

Text

Endless Summer Imperfect - Chapter 21

A/N: I can’t with this chapter! I am soooo sorry in advance because it is soooo angsty. I’m really glad I could bring it back though because I know ya’ll have been asking about it. Let me know what you think and I hope you like it!

Warning: MAJOR ANGST (I AM SO SORRY)

Words: 9156

ES IMPERFECT TAG: @princessstellaris @mechaspirit@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @endlessly-searching-for-you @brightpinkpeppercorn@aragornesprincessgeekymamma @justboredtrash@diego-vii @indiacater @countrymusicandncis-blog @zigortega4life @nekkidmolerat @ravengalaxia@ladyseaheart1668 @endless-jake@theendofallsummers

Masterlist

Imperfect Masterlist

Endless Summer Aftermath - Ending 1 Imperfect Chapter 21 - Life After Love

Jake

The bullet. Frozen in Logan’s grasp, practically frozen in time. She saved Jake. Just like she suspected she would. But is the circumstance that Jake has always been afraid of. The situation where Logan forces herself to sacrifice her life for Jake. He hates when she even thinks something like that and he’s aware when she does. Rourke was about to kill him and he knew if Logan hadn’t stopped that damn bullet... he would probably be no more right now.

Goddamnit though. She saved him and in the most unusual way. She stopped a fucking bullet?! How the fuck is that even possible? Maybe more of the Endless is evolving in her every single day and she’s just now gaining the power but still. It’s fucking insane. This shouldn’t be possible in any fucking way. But she’s done it. Hell, of course she’s done it. This is Princess we’re talking about.

Logan is everything Jake will never be. She’s well rounded, capable and it seems like now she’s fucking magical too.

This must have something to do with the time abilities of the Endless and how Rourke managed to absorb the Endless’ power and use it to transport Logan into his future. Maybe sometime on the way, Rourke unknowingly corrupted Logan with that power and it’s been growing inside of her ever since. Jake wouldn’t put that past the world. Enough unbelievable things have happened and Logan having the ability to control time doesn’t seem at all impossible.

Logan is clearly stunned and shocked by what’s the done. Her ocean eyes are glued to the bullet in her hand and she never dares to tear her gaze away from the metal object. Stress builds within her body and shivers erupt up her spine. She’s clueless and she doesn’t know what to do now she has a bullet in her grip.

Does she shoot Rourke or does she spare him? What the fuck can she do with such a dangerous weapon?

Estela and Mike appear just as shocked as Jake is but they are still rather composed - keeping their weapons risen in case Rourke tries to cower or take another shot. But in the same way, Rourke looks stunned and surprised, an unrecognisable expression crossing his face. Jake catches the sight of the Brit swallowing hard, revealing some slight nerves.

Logan’s grasp is starting to her shaky, revealing her own levels of anxiety too. Jake clutches her hips lightly, trying his best to calm her down and letting his mouth loom over her mouth.

“Princess... how are you doing that?” Jake whispers softly in her ear, causing her to bite her lip at the effect his raspy voice has on her.

She doesn’t know how to respond at first, keeping her gaze on her bullet. “I... don’t know.” She barely whispers back, a heavy breath leaving her lips and Jake steadies as he senses her body starting to go weak.

Logan sucks in a sharp breath, not sure what to make of the situation. Despite Rourke’s momentary shock, he seems to have composed himself and his devious smirk has returned.

“Well, well, well. Looks like the Endless isn’t dead after all.” Rourke finally pipes up and at the sound of his voice, Mike and Estela aim their weapons more clearly, also pushing Jake to level his own gun up.

“What the hell are you talking about, Stark?” Jake questions in a cold tone, his voice harsh and forced.

“I can’t believe I never realised it. The Endless is living inside of Logan. That was her plan all along.” Rourke announces, an incredulous look overtaking and a proud smile is produced. “Wow... no matter how fatal the situation, the Endless always seems to find a way to double cross me.”

“So you’re saying... the Endless is... living inside of me?” Logan mutters under her breath, her other hand brushing over her platinum hair and Rourke finally lowers his gun, replacing it with another device. An unfamiliar device. Something Logan has never seen before.

“You don’t need to worry about it, Logan. You’ll have no time to embrace these new found powers The Endless has provided you with. Trust when I say, you’ll all be dead soon.” Rourke declares, gesturing to the time bomb that is counting down slowly but surely. The timer has already differed to twenty five minutes.

“Were gonna get outta here way before that damn bomb goes off, asshole.” Estela snaps, her hand over the trigger on her gun and she aims it directly as Rourke’s head. “But I’m not walking out of here without your head on a pike.”

“Now, now, Estela.” Rourke chuckles mockingly. “That’s no way to speak to your father.”

“You’re not my father.” Estela bites back, finally pressing the trigger on her gun and a bullet is unleashed. But Rourke is ready, raising the device in his hand and the bullet immediately zooms through the device and gets trapped in the iron wall. A button seems to have been pressed in the process and Rourke’s devilish smirk only widens.

“I’d like to thank you Estela. You just set off an alarm that means all my soldiers will be here any moment now to take you down before you can even leave this room.” Rourke applauds Estela and she narrows her eyes viciously. Unfazed, Rourke moves his vile gaze to Logan, noticing how the bullet is still in her grasp. “Ha. Some Endless you are.” He mocks, starting towards the exit and sliding a card over the lock and the door slides open instantly, giving Rourke a clear exit.

“You’re not getting away with this, you bastard!” Mike pipes up as Rourke leaves the area, barely catching his words. He takes one last glance at the group.

“It’s been a pleasure... Catalysts.” And the last thing seen of Rourke is the sly smirk, like that of a cartoon character as the doors masks his exterior and keeps him out of sight.

Estela immediately launches her fist at the nearest wall and notices that they are completely boxed in, unless they can access a key card, they are done for. They’re trapped unless the Arachnids show up.

“We’re gonna fucking die. This is it.” Estela runs her hands through her greased brunette hair and heavy breaths escape her slowly.

Mike moves over to shake her shoulders, snapping her out of her breakdown. “This isn’t it, Estela. We’re gonna fucking get through this. I plan on getting us home and safe. Rourke won’t win.”

Estela just scoffs, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Don’t you get it, Mike? He’s already won.”

All of a sudden, heavy footsteps can be heard echoing through the room, pulsating through the walls and affecting the ears of the four bottled inside. All of them are immediately listening and awaiting impatiently for the arrival of the Arachnids soldiers, who seem to have aligned with Rourke once more. It’s not good but it has to work.

All the walls suddenly disappear and dozens of Arachnid soldiers are revealed on the other side, all four of the group trapped in the centre with no escape. They’re surrounded and they have no choice but to fight.

But Logan still carries that bullet in her grasp and she’s been completely paralysed for the last few minutes. While Mike and Estela prepare for battle, sharing deadly eye contact with many of the soldiers as if to say they’re ready, Jake remains at Logan’s side, knowing he has to snap her out of her trance in order to convince her that fighting is the only option.

Suddenly, the soldiers all charge forward and Estela, Mike and Jake are given no more time to prepare for this fight. They all start randomly shooting their guns and unleashing bullets at every single angle. Some soldiers fall limb immediately and Estela is probably getting the most accurate shots. She’s a complete machine when it comes to fighting. One of the best Jake has ever encountered in his entire existence and he’ll only admit that in his head. Mike is pretty damn good too, going down the smart path and targeting the heads of the soldiers.

After clearing out a few of the soldiers, Jake swerves around to check on his wife, who hasn’t moved a muscle since the battle started. How the hell is she not fighting yet? She’s usually the determined, strong and fearless one but... finding out all that about the Endless is definitely getting to her head.

Jake immediately latches onto Logan, realising he got a little distracted and now he needs to focus on his troubled and might he add, in pain wife. Only then does he realise just how paralysed she is.

He shakes her slightly but she won’t move and she’s just shivering painfully much. Jake looks to her hands, realising they are empty and the bullet is no longer in her grasp. Logan hangs her head and her gaze burns into something on the floor. Jake follows her gaze and is immediately horrified by what he finds on the floor.

A body. An Arachnid body… with a bullet through their head. Guess that makes it a dead Arachnid body.

Jake is completely aware he isn’t as shaken by this as Logan must be and somehow he can’t understand why she is as shaken as she is, if that makes any sense. She clearly unleashed that bullet into the Arachnid soldier but Jake can’t help but wonder how that is any different to killing other Arachnid soldiers with a gun, which Logan has done enough times.

No… this seems to be different. Because Logan has to blood on her hands this time instead of the weapon used. Jake wraps his arms around his wife and spins her around so she’s no longer facing the dead Arachnid soldier. She must have panicked and let go of the bullet as if the soldier was trying to attack her and that bullet zoomed right through their head.

Tears streaming down her face, Logan buries her face in Jake’s chest and her sobs melt into his already stained shirt. Jake tangles his fingers in her platinum hair and tries to soothe her as swiftly as possible because soldiers could try and attack them any moment now.

They don’t have much time and soon that becomes clear, as three soldiers begin coming after Jake and Logan. Catching sight o this, Jake pulls away from Logan and stares her dead in the eyes - an intensity like no other lurking in his gaze.

“Darlin’… I know this is all hard to process and I know you’re in shock but we gotta fight right now if we wanna survive.” Jake whispers heavily, knocking their foreheads together.

Logan sucks in a sharp breath, wiping away the tears and trying her best to focus her blurred vision. “What if there’s no point and we die anyway?”

“Don’t think like that right now. Just think positive and hope. Please… I can’t lose you again.”

Hearing that, something shifts in Logan and she proudly retrieves her gun, determination flooding her so suddenly. “I won’t let you, Aragorn.”

Jake smirks at that, briefly bringing their lips together. “Ready to kickass, Princess?”

“Always.”

Diego

Running. Running and running. Running for what seems like forever. Searching. Searching and searching. Searching for what seems like forever. Searching for the love of his life. Diego can’t stand it. Now without the confusion and bewilderment, his memories now built into his brain, it hurts so much more to be away from someone you know is supposed to be with you. Diego finds it heartbreaking, especially knowing he is so close to reuniting with his own soulmate.

He’s been fighting to escape the Arachnid soldiers for a while now, with Rebecca fighting them off. They are now so close to the prison area or in other words, where Vaaryn is being held. Diego needs to see him. It’s never been a question and the only answer is finding him again. Maybe it was better when Diego didn’t remember but even if that was still in tact, he would still be bullied and isolated and Vaaryn was probably the secret answer to all his problems and he didn’t even know it until now.

Diego is desperate and determined. He needs this. He wants this so bad. And now he’s so close. He’s inches away from his true destiny. At least that’s what he hopes.

Finally, Diego and Rebecca reach the entrance to the prison area, presumedly where Rourke keeps all his puppets locked away from the rest of the world. The guards have been on high alert since the Rourke’s orders went out. Turns out Jake and Estela have gone missing and Diego can only hope that Logan and Mike have managed to locate them and reunite with them.

Rebecca steadies her gun before peeking cautiously into the heavily guarded door to the prison area. No signs of anyone right now but it’s most likely that there will be a few guards still assigned to act as security for the prisoners and make sure they can’t escape.

Diego sucks in a sharp breath and prepares himself as Rebecca hands him a gun. He barely catches it with his hands shaking the way they are and his chestnut eyes widen at the sight of such a dangerous weapon. He doesn’t encounter these often. If at all.

“Why are you giving me one of these?” Diego dares to ask, immediately silenced by Rebecca’s incredulous stare.

“You’re really gonna need it.” Rebecca responds, shaking her head in disbelief that Diego would even ask that type of question at an extreme time of danger such as this.

“But... I thought I’d leave all the shooting to you. You think I know how to use a gun?”

“Just point and shoot.” Rebecca explains briefly and when she spots Diego’s state of bewilderment, she just exhales hesitantly. “Look we don’t have time for this. If you wanna save your blue lover, you’re gonna have to kill some people. Clear?”

Diego nods, slightly scared. “Crystal.”

“Now I need you to be quiet as possible because I know there are guards still in here.” Rebecca warns, a serious look in her eyes.

“So are we just gonna walk in there or is there a more thought out plan like... hostage roleplay?” Diego suggests and Rebecca simply shakes her head.

“Diego, this is the plan and the more we talk, the more your life at stake and trust me... Jake would kill me if I let you die.” Rebecca mentions before peeking once more into the prison door.

Diego is actually slightly in awe by Rebecca’s words. Wow. Jake cares if he dies. That’s so sweet. Jake always seems like the type who doesn’t care about anything and is just in life for the beer but, he has a heart.

“Wow, that’s—“

“Shush.” Rebecca presses a finger to her lips out of urgency, reaching up to swipe her keycard over the lock and then the door opens automatically. “Stay behind me.” She orders solemnly and Diego nods along immediately, catching the commanding presence of her voice.

They take their first few steps into the area and it’s pretty secluded and extremely secure. Cameras cover every inch of the place and every door has a lock. No windows and barely any light. Damn, Rourke really doesn’t want any of his prisoners, his supposable flawless system seems to have been proved wrong.

Rebecca closes her eyes and searches her brain for a moment, trying to find the memory of where Vaaryn’s cell is and her dark eyes light up when she figures out the answer.

“Follow me.” She insists, marching down the hall as Diego trails behind her, the gun shaking in his trembling grasp. He really doesn’t wanna have to use this. He keeps it low so he doesn’t panic and fire a bullet on accident. Diego May even be the type of person to do something like that and he really doesn’t wanna be responsible for a death.

On light careful footsteps, Rebecca leads Diego further into the dimly lit prison area, the room appearing more sinister the more they venture through it. This is certainly no ordinary prison. It’s almost like a place to hold experiments because that’s basically what the Vaanti are to Rourke. A chance to create new puppets and tame them like they’re worthless animals. They don’t deserve to be treated like that and Diego sure as hell isnt prepared to just sit back and let Vaaryn watch his people suffer. Vaaryn is really the only one who is fighting and really wants to avoid Rourke’s games and not give in to the temptation to become one of his many soldiers. Who would fight by the side of someone like Rourke? He’s a man with only one person in mind and that is himself. He’s hunting for the most powerful thing in existence and that seems to be the entire world. He doesn’t plan to keep his wild dreams at bay. He’s taking the wrong kind of action and now his world has backfired before his very eyes. Who knows what he’s gonna do now? Restart the timeline and plan it out differently. What good is that gonna do? The differences will be slim and it seems like he’s only thinking about precise preparation now.

Keeping the Vaanti captive mustn’t have been his plan before. They had done nothing to him. All they wanted was to live in the peace in the world they had discovered. They built and earned everything they had and their lives revolved around keeping their land and territory safe so assholes like Rourke couldn’t show up and attempt to take over. They did a good job of protecting the island but suddenly Rourke seemed to get the better of them. But why would he have needed an army if the entire world was set to be in his hands once his timeline was activated? It just doesn’t make any sense.

Diego and Rebecca swerve around a corner, startled by the sight before them. They come face to face with two security guards that were clearly still around to guard the heavy prison area. By the time the guards even spot Rebecca, she’s got her gun aimed at them, ready for fire any split second now but Diego is fumbling, as he’s extremely reluctant to end a life when really Arachnids are just doing their and listening to the wrong people.

“Mckenzie?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” One of the security guards questions, his eyes wide to find Rebecca has become an obvious traitor.

“Shut up.” Rebecca simply orders before putting a bullet in both the guards head and they’re lifeless bodies tumble to the floor. Shaken, Diego just stares at the death before him, eyes wide and jaw practically hanging off his face.

Rebecca barely glances his way before preparing to start down the hall again. She lowers her gun to her hips and releases a heavy sigh. The conflict playing at Diego’s face prevents him from not deciding if that was right or not.

“How was that so easy to do?” Diego suddenly questions, furrowing his brows in a manor of bewilderment. Rebecca snaps her head in his direction, surprised by his sudden words.

“It’s not easy. It just has to be done.” Rebecca points out simply, reloading her gun before wiping away a drop of blood that had somehow made it on the weapon.

Diego isn’t satisfied with her answer, his eyes rolling in annoyance at the fact that someone as safety-conscious as Rebecca would find it so easy to end a life. “Does it really have to be done? That was someone’s life, Rebecca, and you just took it away from them.” Diego is clearly trying to guilt-trip her but he’s also trying to help her. Rourke must messed her mind up enough for her to think that killing is a reasonable solution and that is should be done if you consider that person to be an enemy.

Truthfully it’s not ok and it’s unfortunate that Rebecca actually gave in to Rourke’s mind games at one point. She should have fought back. She’s a badass police officer for fuck’s sake.

Rebecca shakes her head defiantly, her head hanging low. “They’re bad people. They work with Rourke. Besides, if they weren’t dead... you’d probably be dead. Don’t you wanna save your man?”

“Of course I do but I don’t wanna leave a trail of bodies behind me.” Diego counters, closing his eyes and exhaling softly. He’s trying to figure out how people even find it right to join forces with Rourke. He’s a hideous form of a man and even daring to listen to him sounds impossible. “...Why did you ever listen to Rourke?”

Rebecca

Rebecca stiffens hearing Diego’s question, a tension spiralling up her body and making her freeze in place. She probably couldn’t explain it in a matter of words and she has done some horrific things, especially when it came to working with Rourke. Her mind was taken over by his idea of heaven and paradise and she wanted nothing than to be apart of that. Some part of her was even keen to find her brother and because she thought he was guilty, she wanted to turn him in... because it was the right thing.

The right thing. Is there really any meaning to the right thing? Doing something that is right always ends with something wrong anyway. All Rebecca’s life, she’s been determined to always do the right thing. She never wanted to be that person that did something wrong and becoming a police officer seemed like the perfect opportunity to do something right, especially after finding out about the shit that happened with her brother. It saddened her that he was out there, isolated and alone. But another part of her always thought he was dead. And it saddens her that she was actually the one still looking for him, trying to get him caught. No matter if they were related or not. Turning him in was the right thing so that’s what Rebecca was forced to do.

That’s also probably how she ended up working with Rourke because all he ever talked about was doing the right thing. Suddenly, it was announced privately that he owned the law. That he is what would save this cruel excuse of a world. That he would find the power to save it but never did she think his overall intentions were to overtake the world. He wanted the literal world in his hands. And Rebecca was too blind to see that he was really manipulating everyone into thinking that it was the right thing... because humans always choose to believe that whenever someone says that something is the right thing to do... they’re not lying.

Clearly that isn’t the case anymore.

After what seems like forever, Rebecca finally lifts her head and meets Diego’s chestnut eyes, trying to form as genuine of an answer as she can. “...I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Really... you believed in him?” Diego asks, his head lowering in shame at Rebecca’s past actions. “Even when it came to taking your brother into custody.”

Rebecca is slightly hurt by what Diego adds and she blinks back tears as she suddenly realises something. “Five years and Jake never could be caught. He ran and ran over the entire world and not once could we find him. Then impulsively, he made a mistake. And that mistake was coming back to the States. I bet somehow he knew that would be his downfall because he came looking for the only friend he’s ever really cared about. I’m certain he would have left ages ago because Mike wouldn’t be able to hide for long. Then he met Logan... and everything seemed to change. He was suddenly so... easy to find. Even I found that suspicious. It’s like this was... meant to be somehow. I don’t know how to explain it but... I kinda have a feeling.” Rebecca explains, her mind drifting to the brightest and darkest places. Who knows when they’re gonna get out of here? But it sure as hell better be soon.

“Wow... you have no idea how much Logan and Jake have been through. Pretty far beyond this world.” Diego chuckles under his breath, as he looks up, reminiscing on all the good times and bad times that Logan and Jake have experienced. A love like theirs is pretty damn incredible. They’ve been through so many worlds and still managed to find each other in the darkness. It’s unbelievable. Let’s just hope it lasts...

“I can imagine.” Rebecca agrees, nodding. She glances at her weapon and raises it again. “You ready now, Diego? We gotta move.”

Despite the risk of tears, Diego gazes once more at the bodies on the floor, closing his eyes and sucking in a sharp breath. There’s always gonna be doubt and anxiety echoing in his body and a part of him that wants to run away and forget this whole thing happened. But this entire experience is to rescue Vaaryn and he won’t ever recover if he lets his soulmate suffer in a place like this.

He has to remember why he’s here. For the love of his life.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

Mike

Finally, all the soldiers have been knocked out of the land of the living. Sighs of relief echo throughout the iron room as the last soldier falls to the ground, curtesy of a bullet from Estela’s heavy loaded gun. Bodies surround the group and they try their very best not to stare at the gruesome sight. Too much blood has been spilled today but there wasn’t really a choice as they’d have no chance of getting out of here alive if some killing wasn’t done.

Still, maybe that’s just what Mike’s mind has gotten used to. His time in Lundgren’s army was traumatic and hell even his time as Rourke’s robot puppet. A time of torture and manipulation that he couldn’t escape. He’s more relieved than anything that he was able to save Jake from such a traumatic fate. He never deserves torture. No one does.

This whole experience is too difficult to believe and they only have about fifteen minutes or even less to escape this hell hole or they’re doomed to damnation.

Jake instantly paces over to Logan and wraps her in a hug. She returns it eagerly and buries her face in his chest, savouring the moment. It’s understandable why they are so touchy with each other. They’ve been apart for two months or so and it’s probably been torture for the both of them. They’ve watched each other die and survive too many times too. They deserve peace after all this time but they just can’t find any of it.

Hesitantly, they pull away, Jake planting a soft kiss on her forehead before parting with her. He notices a little drop of blood has somehow landed on Logan’s cheek and he wipes it off with a frown.

“You okay?” Jake questions, a concerned look in his cerulean eyes.

Logan bites her lip nervously, glancing at the bodies around her. Seeing her sadness, Jake quickly guides her eyes back in his direction. He hates her seeing all that death around her. “I will be... I just hate this.” Logan admits, her eyes falling to the floor sheepishly. “Sorry... for everything. I never even knew that tried to sacrifice myself until Diego told me... and Rourke tricked me into believing that I made the choice to bring us here.”

Jake’s slightly taken aback by her sudden confession as he cups her face with comforting intentions. “Wow... I really wanna kill that son of a bitch.” He hisses under her breath out of frustration. A deadly hatred that’s been building up for months now. “...You’ve been hurt too much, darlin’. Now we just gotta get outta here and then we can forget all about this.”

“But won’t Rourke still be out there? He wont stop until he’s got all the power he wants.” Logan points out, tears starting to rise in her ocean eyes again.

Desperation hits Jake and he shakes his head at her violently. “No, Princess. You’re not gonna break down on me now. We gotta focus. You told me that when I...” Jake trails off for a moment, his gaze landing on Mike. “...when I lost Mike. But I pulled through and you gotta do that too. Please.”

Logan wipes away her tears and inhales sharply, trying to fill herself with any other emotion that isn’t her pain and anguish. She needs to fight on otherwise they’ll all be in pieces in less than fifteen minutes. They have to move. Now.

“Okay. Okay! I’m ready.” Logan clarifies and Jake shoots her a proud smile. He reloads his gun and keeps a sharp eye on the door in case any other Arachnid soldiers come by.

“So... not to be that guy but... how the hell are we getting out of here? I don’t exactly know where we are. Or how you found us.” Jake suddenly enquires, turning to Logan with curiosity in his expression.

“Oh, yeah. Um... you’re in London in some underground laboratory and... Rebecca is the one who helped us get here.” Logan explains rather hurriedly, considering their circumstances.

“Wait... London?! And Rebecca’s here?! But she—“

“I know. But she had a change of heart. She helped us get here and she’s with Diego rescuing Vaaryn right now...” Logan adds, her eyes suddenly growing wide when she realises something, an uneasy feeling washing over her. “Oh my god. Diego! He’s in that prison area! We have to save him too before it’s too late.”

Estela forms a frown, releasing a hesitant sigh. “Lo... it might already be too late.”

“No don’t say that! You can’t say that!” Logan starts to feel her frustration and desperation again, a nausea rapidly rising in her stomach. “We’re gonna save him! Because we can’t leave him behind!” Logan argues, throwing her hands up in defence of her best friend.

“You’re not the only one dealing with loss, Lo! I had to leave my mother behind!” Estela bites back, tightening her ponytail and throwing her hands on her hips as she takes a deep breath.

Logan’s anger is cut short and disbelief cracks through. “Wait your mother is alive?”

“Maybe half-alive.”

Mike suddenly facepalms hard, glancing at the timer built into the wall. “Look, we all have a ton of shit to catch up on but we only got ten minutes before this place blows so let’s get outta this hell hole!”

“How do you expect us to get out, Mike?” Jake asks, his sarcastic tone returning for the first time which is almost surprising.

“This place is gonna explode right? But not everything will. Rourke said so himself. The place where the Vaanti is locked up is gonna be stabilised to keep it safe and in tact. Plus, Rebecca brought us here through that giant lift that was in that place. So...”

“We just need to make it back over there and have it take us back to the surface. Even if the bomb goes off, we won’t be harmed.” Logan adds, folding her arms and producing a weak smile. “Damn, Mike. I’m impressed.

“Come on then. We’re literally running out of time.” Mike urges and Estela follows Mike out of the area, as he tries to retrace their steps back to where the Vaanti were being held.

However, Logan lingers behind, a frown crossing her features as her mind drifts back to Diego and Rebecca, lost in the prison area. Jake pauses when he notices she’s not following her. He make sure Mike and Estela are still in eye view and luckily they’ve paused for a moment to examine their surroundings. Jake caringly takes Logan’s hand and gazes at her with genuine concern in his cerulean eyes.

“Hey... what’s wrong?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

“...We’re not gonna leave Diego, right?” Logan bombards Jake with that dreaded question and he releases a heavy sigh, unsure what to say at first. Noticing his puzzled expression, a conflict playing out on his features and in his mind, Logan cups Jake’s cheek and a solemn look floods in her eyes. “Remember it’s Rebecca we’d abandon too.”

With that, Jake sucks in a sharp breath and bites the inside of his mouth. He looks to the timer and carefully examines it. The time reads eight minutes and he knows that may or may not be enough time to get both Rebecca and Diego and even Vaaryn out in time. Determination overtakes and Jake catches the sweet feeling of certainty after such a long time without it.

“Princess... I might know a way.” Jake declares before tugging Logan by the hand over to Mike and Estela, who are waiting impatiently for them.

“You do realise we’re so close to dying right?”

Jake just rolls his eyes and runs hand through his hair as he figures out the best way to explain his insane idea. “Ok... we can’t leave my sister and Diego. They’re too important. Estela, you should know that.”

Estela seems a little offended but she just brushes it off and Mike rubs her shoulder comfortingly.

“But... I have a way. I’ll go down to the prison part and get them all out in time. Who knows if they’re already out but it’s a chance I’m not willing to take. I’ll go. You guys escape and I’ll try and get them out in time.” Jake explains and everyone is shocked by his sudden courage but Jake has always been like that. Stubborn and pretty fucking crazy.

“Jake, why would you do that? Why not let me go with you?” Logan questions, shock clouding her mind as she thinks about what could happen to the husband she just got back.

“Princess, I ain’t got time to be convinced otherwise. Let me do this. Let me save your friend. I may come back... or I may not.” Jake admits, his heart stinging as he speaks those last few words, watching Logan’s eyes pain with tears and anguish.

“No, Jake! This is not happening. I’m not gonna even risk losing you again.”

Jake knew she’d react like this and finds himself conflicted once more. He needs to be sure. Impulsive. “Baby, let me do this. I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“You always say that.”

“And have I ever stayed away?” Jake challenges and that makes Logan finally relent. Wordlessly, she drags Jake in for a long, passionate kiss and lets in linger for as long as her breath will let her. She isn’t about to lose him again but she can’t stop him from making the right choice. She can’t be selfish. Not now.

Once they pull away, their foreheads collide and they share sweet gazes so meaningful. “You better come back to me or I’m gonna be pissed.” Logan warns and Jake smirks at that, glad their goodbye is lighthearted rather than full of sadness.

“Always, darlin’.” Jake replies in that low husky tone of his and he plants one more kiss on her lips before they finally part and Jake wraps Mike in a hug.

“Be careful, Grandpa.”

“‘Course I will, kid. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“Sure I don’t.” Mike retorts and they share a laugh before Jake offers Estela a hug before starting towards the exit.

He shoots one last glance at his wife, giving her look that only she would know. Jake mouths the words ‘I love you’ and she mouths them back. With an everlasting smile, he disappears out of sight and Logan can only hope that isn’t the last she sees of her husband.

“Now come on. We gotta get on that lift.”

Diego

Finally, they made it. Diego’s chestnut gaze lingers over the iron metal door that is the only thing separating him from the love of his life, who is supposedly sat right in this cell. Diego can only guess what he’s been through. Battered and bruised. Tortured and scarred. Diego is expecting imperfection but all he really cares about is seeing Vaaryn’s face for the first time in what feels like forever.

It’s been too long and Diego can’t wait to be back in Vaaryn’s life again. He’s surprisingly anxious but he knows Vaaryn will be astonished to see him. He may even be surprised but no matter what, they’ll be together again and that’s all Diego is looking forward to.

Rebecca moves to swipe her keycard over the lock and the door to the cell slides open slightly, becoming ajar but it looks like complete and utter darkness on the inside. Is it possible that Vaaryn hasn’t seen an inch of light during his time here? If so, who knows how bright the outside world will appear to him? Now Diego is feeling slightly scared and goosebumps crawl up his arms.

Rebecca points her gun up once more and gestures towards the cell, urging Diego to go inside. “He’s in there now. Go. I’ll stay out here and keep watch. Be quick though. You never know when we could get outnumbered.” Rebecca warns and Diego nods understandingly.

“Ok...” is all he manages to say as he moves his hand to push the door to the cell open even more and he enters it gradually, anxiety over-corrupting him in that moment.

He expected excitement from himself and an energy like no other. Truth is, there’s always gonna be a part of him that’s scared. Scared of the unknown. Scared of the future. Scared of what’s to come. What if gets Vaaryn back only to lose him again in such a limited time? No one really knows what could happen. Diego just needs to make the most of it and stop being afraid.

Now motivated, Diego ventures further into the cell, a bright light consuming the darkness of the cell and covering it like a mask. The light suddenly highlights a specific corner of the room where... oh no...

Immediately, Diego feels tears hitting his eyes and a scream bites back in his throat. He... he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His mind boggles with a million thoughts and doubts and so many goddamn questions. He feels his knees go weak as he glances at the sickening sight before him. A river of emotion pools out of him and Diego collapses to his knees, rapidly moving over to his husband and it kills him to finally admit what’s happened in his head.

Vaaryn... is dead.

Diego can’t even believe it. Why would so someone do this? Rourke. It had to be Rourke. He must have realised that he’d never be able to get into Vaaryn’s head or make him part of his army so the best solution was to kill him off. Why? Rourke didn’t need to do this. It wasn’t an answer. Murder is practically entertainment to him and he sees it as a way to solve his problems but it would never fully help him achieve the kind of power he wants. It only leaves a trail of bodies in his wake.

But why? Out of all people, Rourke had to go and kill Vaaryn. The only person who has ever really loved Diego. And it’s the first time Diego has really experienced real love and managed to feel so strongly about someone to the point where it feels like you’re destined to be together. Vaaryn taught Diego so many things and loved him for the dork that he was. Diego learned so much about the Vaanti from him and he found himself falling in love with Vaaryn without even realising. Even over the six months he was held captive, Vaaryn was the only one who really stuck by Diego, even when their intentions were to get something from him. Something changed and Diego just happened to find a soulmate in the deceased man in his arms right now. Why would someone do this? Just for power? Just for gain?

Diego is sick of lives being taken, especially when it’s the person he loves most being lost because of Rourke’s endless greed. His presence is torture and that torture spreads wherever that man dares to venture. The world would be a constant war with him in complete power.

An ocean of emotion and sadness floods over Diego and he knows it may never go away. How is he ever supposed to recover from this? It’s like losing half of his heart. He cradles Vaaryn in his arms and blinks back tears every few seconds.

“Vaaryn... why... before I could get to you... or at least say goodbye... I would have told you I loved you... I would have... but I’m too late.” Diego pours out his heart and soul in that moment of grief, trying his best to shed all his misery in those minutes because he still needs to get back to Logan. “...who would do this to you?”

All of a sudden, Diego catches the sound of ragged, menacing laugh echoing in the distance and the familiar sound of someone puffing smoke makes him realise who it is immediately. He slowly turns away from his deceased husband and he’s forced to suck in a sharp breath when he realises who is stood in front of him. A face he thought he’d never lay eyes on again.

Rex fucking Lundgren.

“Lundgren?” Diego is genuinely shocked to his face again and he practically looks the same. Seems like he’s been working for Rourke since he would brought back like Mike was. Was that even on purpose?

“Ha. You remember too.” Lundgren scoffs, shaking his head defiantly. “Rourke’s system was really a load of shit wasn’t it?”

Diego suddenly shudders when he spots a bloody weapon in Lundgren’s hands. A loaded gun to be exact. Then Diego briefly tilts his head back to Vaaryn, realising there’s a deep bullet hole that could have gone directly through his head. An uneasy feeling washes over Diego and he takes a cautious step back from Lundgren, suddenly realising what may have happened.

“...D-Did you kill...” Diego can’t bear to speak of his soulmate’s name, too pained to relive this nightmare even though it’s still going on.

Lundgren forms a deadly scowl but a deviance like no other lurks too. “Your blue friend... of course I did. He was useless anyway.”

Seeing how careless Lundgren really is, Diego clenches his hands into fists, his eyebrows arching as he takes slow deep breaths. “...Why?”

“Why?” Lundgren repeats sarcastically, taking another drag out of his cigar before releasing the smoke into Diego’s face, causing him to cough violently. “Rourke’s plan isn’t working out and it never will. But I still work for him so when I blame this murder on Lila, Rourke will make me his right hand man.”

“Really.... you did this for personal gain. Hell, you just wanted to get paid.”

“Damn straight. Don’t worry about it, I’m pretty sure I’ve done you a favour.” Lundgren suddenly says and that causes Diego to start feeling a frustration he’s never felt before.

“How can you even say that? All you do is kill carelessly and not give a damn. I’m surprised you haven’t killed me yet.” Diego suggests, folding his arms as a tension climbs up his body.

Dropping his cigar to the floor and stomping on it, Lundgren levels his gun at Diego’s head and smirks devilishly. “Well, that was my next idea. How ‘bout I hit you in the same place as blue man? Pretty sure you’d appreciate that.”

For once, Diego isn’t scared. This is the first time he’s actually felt prepared. In truth, some part of him may actually want everything to be over. Being with Vaaryn in a better place sounds a hell of a lot better than being here. Suffering. Being tortured. Being in a world where Vaaryn no longer exists. This sounds much better. Besides, it’s not like most people would miss him anyway.

Diego closes his eyes and exhales softly, readying himself for the sweet release of death and maybe things will finally be ok when it’s over. Diego can hear the deafening sound of Lundgren easing his finger over the trigger and suddenly the sound of a bullet being released echoes throughout the iron cell!

Diego expects to have his conscience ripped away from him by now but... he’s still here. Conscious. Alive. His body still in tact. His mind still pained with Vaaryn’s sudden disappearance from his life. Nothing is over. He’s not in a better place.

Question is... what the hell was that sound?

Diego opens his eyes, only to find Lundgren no longer in sight. He’s no longer at gunpoint and instead he’s greeted by a rather different face, still familiar and recognisable however. Tears are still pouring from his cheeks, some drying out but they won’t go away. The pain is too strong. Diego’s eyes dart down to the floor, only to find a lifeless Lundgren on the ground, curtesy of the familiar face before him.

Damn, damn, damn. It’s Jake Mckenzie.

Jake looks bruised and battered, more what Diego expected Vaaryn to appear like but things turned out so much differently, in appearance but the relief on his expression tells Diego that Jake hasn’t realised that Vaaryn is lying dead in the corner yet. He’s gazing down at Lundgren’s body incredulously.

“Wow... you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.” Jake mutters under his breath, lowering his gun and lifting his head up to Diego, concern suddenly flooding his brown eyes - especially when he notices the tears in Diego’s grief-stricken eyes. “Oh my god, squirt. Are you okay? What happened to you?” Jake asks with genuine worry, a frown falling onto his lips. “Did you get Vaaryn?”

Now those words hurt and that prompts Diego to point to Vaaryn’s body, not daring to look himself as he can’t bear the sight anymore. Jake follows his gaze and his cerulean eyes immediately go wide. Jake and Vaaryn weren’t as close but it still would hurt to see someone you once knew lying lifeless and isolated. Jake appears in pain but he’s so much better at covering it up than Diego. His eyes are threatened by tears but they never really make it out of the corners. Diego can’t help but wonder how Jake manages to always keep his defence walls up and never lose control or break. It’s truly remarkable.

“Oh my god...” Jake runs his hands through his sandy hair out of stress and he’s immediately flooded with a flashback of when Jake barely stopped Vaaryn from taking his own life and now Lundgren has put a bullet through his head. Hell, maybe that’s what he wanted. “Squirt...”

“Jake... I get it. You’re gonna tell me to focus but I just lost the love of my life but I’m guessing... you found yours.” Diego points out, suddenly hit by the fact that Logan probably got her love back but Diego doesn’t get to.

Jake is struck by guilt and he hangs his head in shame. “Diego... I’m sorry but we really need to go...”

“Why?”

“Well, we need to get out of here and there’s a bomb that’s gonna go off in about five minutes so come on.” Jake urges and Diego tugs him by his wrist, ushering him out as quickly as possible. Not just for everyone’s sake but for Diego’s sake specifically. Looking at the sight of death is much worse than just thinking about it. Reliving it in your head is better than really going through it. Jake learned that over the years, experiencing enough losses and death. He never seems to get away from it.

“Wait... a bomb?” Diego reacts, jaw almost hitting the floor.

“No time to explain. We gotta get to the exit. We got a plan to escape. You just have to trust me.” Jake states solemnly and Diego just nods, showing he understands but is still shaken up over what happened.

They’re about to take off down the hall until Jake realises something. “Hold on... where’s Rebecca?” His doubts start to shine through and a dreaded theory builds up in his head.

“I don’t know. She was keeping guard outside the door.” Diego explains, the same theory seeming to build up in his own mind.

Jake is almost afraid to say it out loud. “If she was keeping guard... then Lundgren could have only gotten in the cell if she...” He trails off, in complete disbelief that his very own sister would choose Rourke over family.

“...let him in and took off.” Diego adds, releasing a hesitant sigh, disappointed in Rebecca.

Jake abruptly lets out a frustrated shout, his fist making contact with the unbreakable iron wall. His fist is scattered with blood when he lifts it and a look of anguish is spread across his face.

“Jake...”

“We gotta move.”

“But... you’re—“

“NOW!”

Logan

They’re so close. Fingertips away from freedom. The surface of this hell so close they can practically feel it. Two minutes. Two minutes until explosion. Even if this area was still safe and it’s certain to say Rourke would make sure that the outside world wasn’t disturbed by the explosion. He may have a plan to make it look like a simple disturbance and he wants it look like we’ve all been found dead after all this time. It’s the perfect crime but it sure as hell isnt gonna become a reality.

No one wants to leave Jake, Diego, Rebecca and Vaaryn. And they sure as hell won’t. Even if it puts their own survival in jeopardy. Jake McKenzie is a fucking fighter and he will make sure everyone is safe and then he’ll come running like he always does, barely away from his survival but he always gets it eventually.

Logan can’t lose him. She needs him to come back and her only hope is her patience and she plans to wait out as long as possible for Jake and everyone else. She can’t lose any of them. They’re too important to her. She’s sick of losing people and death seems to follow her now. She can’t bare to lose anyone else.

Not now. Not ever.

Another minute goes by. One more minute until their fate is decided. So much undeniable pressure and it’s certain Estela is seconds away from pulling the switch.

“Estela, don’t! Not yet. Please. Wait for Jake.” Logan urges, practically pleading with Estela and noticing the utter anguish and desperation in her ocean eyes holds Estela back and she keeps her hand hovering over the switch.

Mike is praying with Logan, wanting to have Jake alive as much as her. They came here for Jake and if they don’t leave with him safe than none of this was worth it and they are just left with a story of how they barely escaped death.

Forty seconds.

“Lo, I cant wait anymore! We have to go now!” Estela warns and Logan almost is forced to accept the fact that Jake may not be coming until... she catches the sound of him calling her name.

“Princess! Keep that damn door open!” Jake calls out to her and she nods fiercely, a proud smile spreading across her features. Mike forms his own smile and they share a knowing look. They both knew that Jake would pull through and they’re so glad he did. It’s not only Jake, however. Diego is with him. What’s strange is that there is no Vaaryn or Rebecca. What the hell happened?

Thirty seconds.

Jake finally makes it through the door and Diego follows after, a pained expression on his face and if only he could express his excitement to see his best friend again. But he can’t. Not right now. The first thing Jake does is wrap Logan in a deep embrace, so fucking happy to see her even though they were only apart for a few minutes.

“I told you I’d come back, darlin’.” Jake whispers, as he gradually brings their lips together and Logan keeps the kiss brief, joining their foreheads for a moment.

“Didn’t doubt you for a second.” She whispers back before parting with Jake and turning to Diego, wrapping him in a welcoming hug. He barely accepts it, tears threatening to spill from his eyes again.

“Diego, what happ—“

“No time! We need to go!” Estela exclaims before slamming the switch and immediately the door slides shut and the lift starts going up at a steady pace. “Jesus fucking Christ! Can’t this thing go any faster?”

Fifteen seconds.

“We can make it, Estela. Don’t worry.” Mike assures, resting a hand on the small on her back and he’s surprised she even goes along with the action. But it seems to be helping as well as his words.

Ten seconds.

Jake and Logan hold onto each other out of desperation, hoping and praying this isn’t the end already. They can make it out. Once this lift is covered up. Nothing can get to them and they can’t die. All they have is hope for now. Hope they can do this and fight through.

Five seconds.

Finally, the lift makes it to a stop at the top the land, revealing exactly where they are. Once again, Logan recognised the familiar outskirts of London, an abandoned area where no one ever close. Rourke chose a decent location for his lair but now he’s going to have to find another one and pretty quickly. He always seems to have a backup plan. Everyone quickly jumps off the lift and onto the earthly ground, a place Jake hasn’t stood on in what feels like forever.

The last second ticks by and they expected to only hear the sound of the explosions from inside but no... the lift abruptly is slashed off the ground from the impact of the explosion. Everyone is shocked by what they see when they dare to peer through the hole. Rourke said his army would be protected and preserved but he has literally gone back against his word and set an explosion for the entire Vaanti. They’re all dead.

He destroyed half of his army. But why? And does he know they barely escaped with their lives? Hell, they’re lucky they made it out alive. If that last second had disappeared while they were still on the lift... they’d be just as dead as the animalistic Vaanti right now.

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garden-of-succulents · 6 years

Text

Kent Parson and the Comeback Kid - 3

After a week of Kent Parson breaking everybody's hearts I was like I AM GONNA WRITE SOMETHING FLUFFY FOR HIM IF IT KILLS ME. And tonight I wrote 6k in four hours? Which is an amazing omen for the new year, may it prove so in the future?

So this is a new chapter of Kent Parson and the Comeback Kid. It's 2021. Kent's finally gotten Andy from Leave Your Lovers Like Campsites to settle down and have a kid and marry him. They've got an open relationship and he's got boyfriends who don't appear in this fic so far; she's dating Maida Hombrebueno. Andy, who was an elite hockey player in her youth, was out of the sport for many years and just got rediscovered as a talent. She's 32 and just qualified for the US National Women's Team for the first time. Also, it's Round 3 of the Stanley Cup playoffs, and the Aces are up in the series 3-2.

(There's one little sour moment where Andy's dad is mentioned, and general BS of the media being gross, but nothing like the last part. And for people who're wondering: Katie is Kent's sister.)

At the airport, Nick jumped down and ran for her as soon as he got a clear eyeline. He almost got taken out by a luggage cart before getting within ten feet of her, and Andy sent thanks with her eye contact as the man stopped and let Nick blithely swerve around him.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he exclaimed, as she scooped him up. "What did you bring me?"

Andy laughed and rocked him back and forth, pressing her cheek to his hair. "Hey kiddo," she said, heart thudding. "I am so happy to see you. I brought you... a giant kiss. You gonna let me give you a big kiss hello?"

He did, pressing his hand over his cheek afterwards to hold it there. "I'm in pull-ups," he informed her glumly as she walked across the Arrivals area with him on her hip.

"Yeah? You peed yourself a little? Happens to the best of us, buddy," she said, tightening the arm around Nick so she could lift her other one and reel in her girlfriend.

A few years back, Andy ended her twentieth hockey season in a rec league in Minneapolis and hung up her ice skates in frustration. Half her team were skating for their first season ever, and were carried along by the half who'd been playing since they were little girls. They made great drinking buddies, but she hadn't been going anywhere as an athlete, and felt a little burned out by having to coach in her rec time over and above her day job coaching teenagers at a hockey academy.

Roller derby gave her a lot of the same things as hockey. It was fast and fun and violent, and played by women who made her laugh so hard she snorted beer out of her nose. But the player base had a deeply different ethos, embracing the weird and wonderful instead of hockey's straighter laces. When Maida Hombrebueno joined the Sin City Derby Girls, it was the first time she'd willingly participated in a team sport since the age of ten, and Andy might never have met her without it.

Maida spent her summers touring music festivals and New Age gatherings with her boyfriend Luis, a Santeria-practicing guitar player. When she wasn't rehabilitating injured wild raptors, Maida's own interests ran to composing slam poetry in indigenous Mexican languages and occult divination.

She was like water in the desert.

Once Andy got over her sense of disorientation with Maida, the feeling of being so far from any familiar cultural referents she didn't know where she was, she found herself at home. Maida was the teammate she trusted to have her back, the witch who poured blessings on her son's head. As a lover, she was like a stray cat who just walked into Andy's house one day and treated her bed like home, filling up her house with warmth and wisdom. When she left, it was on her own time and for her own reasons, but also the certainty that she'd be back. Maida was the only person Andy would trust to take her two-year-old son to the airport and let him wander freely, risking life and limb in the face of baggage carts and many other unknown horrors. Maida treated Nick with a calm, hands-off attentiveness, knew where he was every second, and could--unlike his grandmother--call him back at any minute.

Maida squeezed her in a hug, and Andy breathed in the jasmine perfume behind Maida's ears, pressing her face into Maida's hair for a minute before letting go.

"Congratulations," Maida said, and twined her fingers with Andy's as they began walking out to the parking lot.

We'll just do the long-distance thing, she'd said even before Andy left for the selection camp. No drama, no questions. Unless you don't want to. But you do what you need.

"Thanks." Andy squeezed her hand. "You coming to the game tonight?"

"Oh, no," Maida said. "You guys have fun. I'll go home when you guys head out."

Andy shook her head, smiling. Kent's friendship with Maida went back almost as many years as he'd known Andy, when he'd started exploring Paganism, and had been lovers with Maida and Luis for years; when he drove out of Las Vegas to their trailer in the desert, it was to escape hockey, to escape being Kent Parson, to escape even the memory of the pressures laid on him in the city. So even after all these years, they never went to Kent's games. Maida might acknowledge that Andy played hockey, but politely treated Kent's hockey career like a hobby that paled in comparison to everything else about him. She'd rather talk to him about music, xeriscaping, statistics, about the progress of Nick's potty-training, than let discussion of hockey pass her lips in his presence. "Series is 3-2 us," she said, just to fill Maida in. "Either they win conference finals and advance to the Cup final tonight, or it goes to another game."

"Karen's been trying to pack when she thinks Kent won't see," Maida said with dry humour. Kent and Andy were hockey-player superstitious, made uncomfortable by words or actions that implied their teams would win; Maida was idiosyncratically superstitious, more likely to believe fate was affected by the phase of the moon and the rains last winter than human actions; Karen didn't think she was superstitious at all, and liked to be well-prepared ahead of time. Karen therefore struggled to reconcile her son's habits and her household management, especially during Playoffs. In her opinion, a week's warning was hardly enough for her to prepare to take Nick to New England so they could be there at the game if Kent won, and the shuttling back and forth between home games and away was a demonic plan specifically designed to torment her. Over the past week Maida had probably been surreptitiously keeping friction between mother and son from erupting, when she wasn't tending to her birds.

"Grandma's gonna be so happy when Playoffs are over," Andy chirped to Nick, who had his arms around her neck and his head against his shoulder. To Maida she asked, "Where's Kent napping?"

"Swoops's," Maida answered. She reached over and rubbed Nick's back as they got to the car. "Though this one's not going to be too loud, I think. He was up at six this morning. Be nice if he could--" she mouthed the word nap-- "this afternoon."

"Mmm," Andy agreed, depositing Nick in his carseat. He clung to her, his eyelids drooping. She was already calculating the probability that he'd fall asleep in the car and stay asleep while she carried him inside.

The odds weren't great, but a girl could hope. It made sense that Kent Parson's son would be a stubborn little motherfucker, though.

"Kent wants to see you before puck drop," Karen said, as Nick dragged Andy by the hand. His eyes had snapped open just as Andy laid him down on his bed, damnit.

"I know," Andy said, as she retreated down the hall. "He texted me." And then she waved as Nick pulled her into the playroom.

She had to admit, privately, that she didn't always understand her son. His noises didn't always resolve into words in her ears, and she frequently relied on Kent and Karen for translation. She didn't understand why he wanted to do something with a train and a Barbie and a spaceship, and just patiently held the spaceship aloft for him until he took it out of her hands and set it to rest on a toy car. She never knew what his scribbles or Play-doh blobs were supposed to represent, and found herself falling back on phrases like, "That's a lot of blue!"

And yet, when she sat back on her heels and Maida brought her a cup of tea and a kiss goodbye, she said, "I've decided? I think I actually am a better parent than my parents were."

"Yeah," Maida said, and squeezed her shoulder. "Karen wanted me to remind you that you've only got two hours before the team goes in for strategy."

"Yeah, I know. I'll get dressed soon." Andy squeezed Maida's hand, and kissed it. "Drive safe."

Kent and Andy had an entire closet for jerseys. It was sentimental and a bit ridiculous, but there it was. Some jerseys got special treatment; his first Olympic jersey, framed with team picture and silver medal, hung in his den. One of her NCAA jerseys, and the award plaque she won that season, had the same treatment in her work office. But after a while there got to be so many--and not all fit for public display, like the All-Star jersey from a few years back with bloodstains on one side and a little penis drawn on the other in Sharpie. This was where her new Team USA jersey went when she pulled it out of its plastic wrapping, buried her nose in the fabric, and then slipped it onto a hanger.

Her chin trembled a little when she indulged in a whim and pulled out one of Kent's IIHF Worlds jerseys. It wasn't the same--different year, old logo, different neck decoration. But both jerseys were the same colour. Same team. PARSON, across one back. SCARLATTI, across the other.

She put them back in the closet and sighed wistfully. There used to be a time when she'd just throw one of them on over a pair of jeans and sit down in the stands with a hot dog and a beer. It was comfortable and familiar. She still did it for a lot of games and tournaments, but not NHL games, especially not Aces games, anymore. Instead she put her curling iron on to heat and stepped into the shower.

Kent didn't care what she wore. Or, that was, when his opinion was a deciding factor he preferred her in a jersey as God intended her. But he was a player, not a fat woman being spectated as a spectator. His fashion choices during a game didn't get dissected the way hers did. When she wore a jersey, his Twitter mentions didn't fill up with messages about her looking ugly and slovenly the way hers did. He didn't have bosses in the Aces Foundation making nervous comments about "professional attire" and "media image" the way she did. So when he was around he didn't comment on it, just helped her pull her Spanx on and zipped up her dresses.

Almost over, she consoled herself, blending her makeup.

Even the lower passages and back hallways of the arena sparked with life. This was an important game, and Las Vegas knew it. Andy waved to familiar faces--parking lot attendants, security guards, janitors in her husband's jersey. As she came down the tunnel the boom of the music playing hit her before the scrape of skates and smack of sticks did.

Jorge, the towel boy, nodded to her as she came down to the players' box, but the coaches and trainer there--Harry, Mel, and Luc--were too busy watching the ice with eagle eyes and conferring over their notes. The box was otherwise empty as the team warmed up. Andy went to lean on the boards and look out.

Swoops was still wearing fairy wings pinned to the back of his jersey, the way he had at warmups for the last three games. It was a bet Andy didn't fully understand. Dmytro was lying on his back and cycling his legs through the air, pretending that his jersey totally accidentally fell back and exposed his abs. Gordie's glove hand was still moving a little slowly when he windmilled, and therefore unsurprisingly, the backup kid they'd called up last night was nervously stretching on an empty patch of ice.

Kent was--

Kent skated away from a consultation with a rookie, snatched a puck, handled it over to the lineup to shoot on Gordie. Kent kept drawing her eye, and not just because he was hers. Kent was--

His jersey was missing the Nevada patch on the shoulder, the extra stripe of white at the bottom. Its sleeves were straight, not shaped the way they'd been for the last three years. The sides didn't have the subtly greyer panel the Aces were wearing this season. It looked retro, and it hung on him a little looser than normal, and there were what looked like scuff marks all over it, and--

SCARLATTI, it said. 14

Kent sank the puck over Gordie's glove, shook his head sympathetically, looked over to the callup kid, who looked like he was about to puke. Kent was on his way over to him when he noticed Andy.

Almost a decade ago she'd slept with him for the two weeks between conference finals and Cup final, slept with him a few times after, and then kissed him goodbye and moved back to Minnesota for four years. As a parting gift, he'd asked the team shop to custom make a jersey with her name and habitual number, to remember her year with the Aces by. A lot of the guys had signed it for her.

He'd felt self-conscious about giving her his own number and didn't want him wearing anybody else's, he'd said. But she'd always hugged a secret little hope to her chest when she wore it: that he put her own number on it because he took her a little seriously as a hockey player.

"You stole my jersey," she said through tears when he skated up.

He just grinned and wrapped her up in a hug over the boards, murmuring thanks when Jorge took the stick out of his hand. She hugged him back and gripped big handfuls of the fabric.

"I am so proud of you," he said. "You're gonna get everything you need to play. We're gonna figure it out."

"I'm wearing mascara, you asshole," she sobbed. He let her go so she could turn away and grab one of the bench tissues and turn back to him while she was crying. "I did actually know that."

"You... did?" the man wearing her jersey asked.

"I know, right?" she asked, blowing her nose. "On the plane back I just thought... you didn't actually say, but I just thought. If I made the team, and you were like, no, we can't make it work, your career is more important, after you told me to go? I'd be so fucking angry with you. You'd be an asshole." She sniffed mightily and swabbed at her face. She'd been smart; she'd used waterproof mascara, though she hadn't remembered it at first. "So it turns out I actually have, like. Expectations? And I..." she started crying again. "I actually believed you were gonna believe in me and support me? Even before you said so?"

"Babe," he said, and gathered her in again reverently. She leaned against his chest, holding tissues to her face, even when she felt him slide back on his skates and have to re-set his feet. She thought about the fact that their entire exchange had just been videotaped and clips of it had probably already been broadcast, but wasn't too troubled. Kent was shielding her; her face was safely hidden in his shoulder, and the jersey he'd chosen to warm up in told the story itself. Maybe he'd anticipated that. The media were going to want visuals to go with the story, and there had already been stories about the surprise addition to the roster before she boarded the plane back to Las Vegas. He'd already known they'd have to present an image as a team.

They just moved to the side for the first guy who came skating back to the bench, so he could step around Kent, but when it became clear this was a general exodus Andy sighed and straightened up and Kent let her go.

"I love you," he said.

She set her hands on his chest, gripping her jersey, and thumped him a little. "You make me proud tonight. Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, touched her chin, and she let him go.

Andy blotted her eyes with a paper towel soaked in cold water, and then when she got up to the family box she looked for Valentyna. It was a lively box tonight--all the wives, most of the girlfriends, the callup goalie kid's parents, various friends and hangers-on. Nick and Karen weren't there yet, but Oksana and a couple other kids had pulled out the big Rubbermaid bin of Duplo from behind the bar and started playing with it already.

It took one look--it looked like Valentyna had been waiting for her--before Dmytro's wife was pulling out her glass makeup case and coming up to one of the tables in the back of the box. She adjusted the overhead light to shine on Andy's face, frowning at its inadequacies as Andy meekly sat on one of the tall stools.

"You TV interview?" Valentyna asked, snapping open her case. Before her marriage she'd been a model in Kiev, and worked as a makeup artist when she couldn't get modelling gigs. (Somehow, Ukraine had hundreds of women more beautiful than Valentyna Mykhailuk) She was normally shy around the other Aces wives, partly because of the language barrier, but their children were friends only six months apart, and watching Andy struggle with makeup alone had pushed her past her limits. Before the big games, Andy had to pass Valentyna's inspection before being allowed out to the front of the box.

"No," Andy said, squirming a little. "And no big eyeliner wings, Valentyna."

"Accentuates face," Valentyna said. "National team! Patriotic hero! Ought to interview you."

"My face," Andy said. "My eyeliner." And then, as Valentyna loaded up a brush: "Thank you."

"Will miss you," Valentyna said matter-of-factly, and then had to pause to let Andy wipe away tears again.

She got one interview that night, as it turned out, as well as going down into the stands because a group of girls had hastily written on the back of their posterboard sign, ANDY SCARLATTI COME SIGN MY JERSEY. They played on a U18 team together in Ontario, and got playoff tickets as part of what they described as "the most amazing vacation ever." Then she hustled back up to the press box.

Sam Park was the veteran holding down the Las Vegas Star's sports reporting, which meant he bounced from NHL and WNBA games and the local Little League games and initiation hockey tournaments Andy's office either organized, oversaw, or sponsored. They'd last texted two weeks ago when she'd given him the name of a good local flooring contractor for his house, and tonight he sent, Willing to come down to the press box and talk as a member of Team USA?

An interview with an old friend like Sam was a good starting place. He liked wordy character pieces more than brief sports reporting, so he listened with interest as she threw a new light on their acquaintance--how she worked with the Aces in 2010 because she'd always known she'd have to get a paid job after her college sports career, and left in 2011 in part because of the lack of local women's hockey; the growth of professional leagues for women, and differences between men and women's hockey. How her office at the Aces foundation being literally a hundred feet from the team's practice ice meant she could go out and skate at lunchtime if she wanted, and how those hours and her time playing keep-away with Kent before the teams she coached showed up were often more player development than other women just as skilled as her could afford.

She kept quiet about her speculation about next season, though Kent had already spoken about it. In an attempt to distract the press during the first intermission from the emotional crisis their new goalie was having in the dressing room, Kent had stepped out for a brief media scrum. When asked how Andy's selection to Team USA would affect his plans for next season, he'd shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back

"We haven't settled on any details, but, y'know, I wanna support my wife," he said. "I've had ten years of support to be the best player I can be, best coaching, best training, on the best team in the best league. So I think, y'know what, fair's fair." Then, having done his best to ensure rumours of his retirement would bump clips of the kid having a panic attack on the bench from the reporting, he'd smiled and slipped back into the dressing room.

Sam was softballing her, probably planning a series of articles if the story generated much interest. He wanted to know about her family, her friends, her new teammates.

"Have you seen this?" he asked, offering her his phone.

Lansing Cougars @mi_girlshockey · 2h So proud of my daughter #AndreaScarlatti for being selected to #USNWT #TeamUSA!

For a minute she smiled, under the assumption that someone running a girls' hockey account in Michigan had hyperbolically claimed her as their daughter. Then she read the sidebar with the account information. The realization that it was the team her dad was coaching now--that it meant "daughter" literally--wiped the smile from her face.

She wanted to snatch the phone up in a typing grip and fire back a response. Fuck you, she wanted to say. You don't get to claim any part in this. I did this despite you. This was exactly the kind of bullshit that made her block her father on Twitter every time she figured out what his new handle was.

Instead she let the impulse pass through her, and when she could, she consciously relaxed her grip on the phone. She put effort into breathing normally, sitting back in her chair, offering the phone back to him. "No comment," she said casually.

How like him, he thought, to name an account after the girls he's coaching and use it as his own personal mouthpiece.

Sam's eyebrows flicked up. "No comment?" he asked. "That's... not like you."

She made sure to take a full breath and double-check her response. What did she want to say? This was Sam, right; Sam who was writing a book about the Aces, Sam who hadn't written a word about Vladimir's breakdown despite witnessing some of it himself. Then she smiled, a little strained. "When I'm ready to talk about that? You're one of the people I'll talk to. But right now I think it's wise to leave him out of the story."

Sam looked a little concerned, like he was going to ask her if she was really okay, but Andy was saved by the airhorn. The game was back on.

When the game was over Andy kissed and hugged her son goodbye, and headed downstairs. Nick was under Valentyna's watchful eye, and would be going home with her, Oksana, and Dmytro tonight. Western Conference Finals, win or lose, were Kent and Andy's date night by very ancient compact. The other guys would tease Dmytro about not wanting to go out and party, but the same way they teased Kent: good-naturedly, and without a real intent to make him change his mind. Andy was grateful to the Mykhailuks and said so. Karen split off in the hallway to party with another group of middle-aged "wine grandmas".

When Kent met her in the hallway to the parking lot, his suit was rumpled and slightly damp with champagne spray. He grinned sheepishly and laced their hands together.

"Good game," she said, kissed his cheek and looked up. "Oh, hey Gordie, good effort. Tough luck. Rest that shoulder, hey?"

"Thanks, Ands," Gordie said, dredging up the ghost of a smile, and shouldered past them. Dmytro came out, his phone in his hand.

Then Valentyna came down one of the staircases with the kids and Nick caught sight of Kent and shrieked, "Daddy!"

"Oh, dear," Andy sighed under her breath, as Kent crouched down to receive Nick in a running hug.

"Daddy won!" Nick said, hugging him. "Good game, Daddy!"

"Yeah," Kent said. "Thank you! You gonna go home with Oksana and have a sleepover?"

"No," Nick said.

"Yeah," Kent encouraged. "You're gonna go home with Valentyna and sleep over at our place, and see me and Mommy next morning."

"Don't wanna," Nick said, and then something low and incomprehensible that Kent listened to with a furrowed brow. He scowled when Kent said something softly back, and then balled up one fist and hit his father's shoulder with it.

"Hey, hey, hey," Kent said. "Hands aren't for hitting. Gentle hands."

"Daddy mean," Nick said accusingly. He stopped to consider his actions, weighing righteous fury against fear of consequences, and hit Kent again with his face screwed up for tears.

This is my fault, Andy thought suddenly. I've been away for a week. He's upset because I've never been gone that long. That's why he's wearing pull-ups. He hasn't tried to pull a stunt like this for months. It's because of me.

Kent sighed, hitching Nick up into a surer grasp, and turned to the side to let a few other players by. He took a minute to rub Nick's back and close his eyes. "I love you, little man," he said, and then, muttered to himself under his breath: "I cannot take away your pain. I can only sit with you and teach you how to feel it." When he opened his eyes again it was to meet Andy's eyes with a wry expression. He jerked his head to Valentyna, and they started walking to the parking lot together.

"I don't know what books they have at Oksana's house," Kent said as they walked. "I wonder what you're gonna read together. You've got Goodnight Moon and I Am Not a Chair with you, you could read those. But you might read one of Oksana's books."

"No," Nick whined, but his strength was fading. He was collapsing into Kent, tiredness replacing anger.

"Which one would you rather read?" Kent kept going with that gentle voice. "Goodnight Moon or I Am Not a Chair?"

"...Chair," Nick conceded, as Kent pulled open the back door to Valentyna's sedan. Nick's car seat was already in it so Kent settled him in, while Oksana climbed into hers on her own. "An' also Goodnight Moon."

"Yeah, you want both books?" Kent looked over to Valentyna as she buckled Oksana in. "Do you think you can read two?"

"I think so," she said, and leaned forward as Kent drew back. "We gonna read two books?"

"Yeah," Nick said softly. "I love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, little man. Night, Oksana."

Andy stood back, watching with a sense of wonder as Kent closed the car door. He came back to join her with a crooked smile, and they started walking to their car in the other direction as Dmytro started his sedan. They glanced back to watch it reverse out, then drive away.

"I thought we were seriously done for," Andy said, taking Kent's hand. "How did you do that?"

"I mighta let him come back with us, to be honest," he said. "Even though we've got stuff to talk about. He missed you. Coulda put him to bed first. But then he hit me, and we talked last week about how hitting never gets him what he wants." He slipped into the passenger seat of the car, and resumed once he and Andy had their seatbelts on. "I think as soon as he hit me, he knew it was over. I was gonna have to make a stand. So then he gave in pretty fast."

Andy sighed. "I feel so bad. He was probably more upset because I was away."

Kent rolled his head against his headrest to look over at her. "Babe? Welcome to how I feel all the time."

Their drive home was quiet, nerves on her part and pleasant weariness on his. Because they were old, they changed out of their nice clothes as soon as they got in the door and changed into pyjamas. Kent fed the animals and poured a drink out onto his altar to the gods of luck, then stretched out his legs on the couch so Kit Purrson could have the seat she was actively agitating for. Andy brought him a cold pack for his knee first, and then the homemade pizza the oven had been programmed to have ready for them when they got home, and finally two glasses of rosé. She'd sat down when he said, "I wanna see your jersey," and then she had to get up again.

"Sorry," he said when she came back, taking her hand and kissing it. She let him, and then handed the jersey over and picked up her wine.

"Shit," he said after a minute. He was tracing the number on the sleeve.

"They, uh," she said nervously, twisting her wedding ring. "It got us to list three jersey numbers by preference, and then they got assigned based on seniority. And there's a lot of competition for the lower numbers, and Bri's played under number fourteen forever, so I..."

"Dude." Kent looked up at her, eyes shining, hands still gripping the 90. "You're wearing my number. It's not even your birth year."

"Fair's fair," she finally got out past her tongue.

Then she had to lean forward so he could kiss her, and they both cried a little bit, and then it seemed like they were really talking about how to do this.

"I'm afraid," she said. "I'm afraid like, you'll organize some big trade to another team, and we'll change our whole lives, and move everyone, and then I'll get cut from the team in October." She made a little cutting gesture with her hands. "Whoops! I thought I had a career, but I don't."

"It'd still be worth it," he said. "Even just having that chance."

Andy reached back and wrapped her hands around the nape of her neck. "It would be so fucking embarrassing. It's not us, it's the fucking commentators. They're just..." She rubbed her face. "I don't want to do something we're gonna regret, or that you're gonna resent me for, in case it doesn't work out."

"Okay," he said, like that was easy. "What are our options?"

"I mean like, technically..." she laughed nervously, picking up a pizza crust. "I still have one year of NCAA eligibility, I think? But I mean, that's not..."

"Yeah, no," he agreed, stroking his cat.

"If it were an Olympic year..." she paused. "Well I mean, I wouldn't get on in an Olympic year, because it's just that much more intense. But then the players take the whole season to build together. Whereas now there's a training camp, and then everybody's off to their regular team until the 4 Nations Cup. So unless I wanna stick around here and keep training with you... The N, the C-dub, the Russians, or China. I mean, I could play in Minnesota, but..."

"Everything we're hearing from Patty says their league might not last the year," Kent agreed. "And you might not wanna be around for the implosion."

"Yeah," she agreed. "As nice as it would be to be home. So. Realistically? Um. Because, all of the NWHL teams have expressed interest in me. But then it's like, the two body problem. Boston can't afford you. The Sabres aren't a good team right now. Connecticut doesn't have a team at all so then you're commuting, or I am. And you..." she trailed off when he lifted a hand, asking to jump in.

"I want to retire," Kent said.

She blinked at him, and then reassembled her face into something empathetic and supportive and ate her pizza crust. He smiled and poked her knee with his toes, because he liked to make fun of her Listening Face.

"I might as well admit it," he said. "I did this season out of spite. When I came back after my paternity year, people were just... so shitty. Everything they said or did was like, 'Oh, losing his edge.' By the end of the year I was so pissed I just... didn't want to prove them right with that shitty season. So I came back." His face twisted. "And now Nick has nightmares where I'm dead."

"Honey," Andy said. "He hasn't had those for..."

"Okay, but he did," Kent said. "And I'm just... wondering how many more seasons I might've put him through if I hadn't got that far. But now I'm here, and it's..."

Andy reached out and squeezed his foot while he searched for words, and then topped up his wineglass.

"There's this art studio in Rochester," Kent said. "It's in the building where Katie works. It's like, a family creative space. Child-led play. You take your kid in and there's all these art materials around, and the person teaches you how to make like, a popsicle stick picture or fingerpaints or whatever. But the point isn't the art, it's like... teaching your child to explore. How to let them be creative while you're there supporting them but not smothering or anything. She sends me snapchats about it. I wanna go there."

Andy started on her second crust, puzzled but willing to hear him out.

"I just hate how like... all of my time with him is chopped up and scheduled and he's always tired and we can never just be together. After the summers it's almost worse because then he's used to me being around and he's like, 'Where did Daddy go?' What I want is the time to just wake up and decide we're gonna fingerpaint today, and he never has to worry about when I'm gonna leave."

"You wanna be a stay-at-home dad again," Andy said slowly.

Kent paused to think about that, and then looked at her again with something almost fervent. "There's been so many times since he was born that I've been on the ice and asked myself, 'What the hell am I doing here? I've got important things I need to do!' It's like... being around Nick feels important in a way hockey hasn't in years. Even when he's just sleeping. Something changes about him every day, and I love being able to catch it. It kills me every time Mom has to send me a video of something he learned to do without me."

"Shit," Andy said. "I thought you were doing okay."

Kent shrugged, a little helplessly. "I think I repressed a lot. But also like, he's just gotten so interesting now. He's inventing stuff and coming up with ideas, and more and more I'm like, I don't wanna miss this. I wanna be there for this. I wanna get to know him." He picked at his nails and looked up at her. "I spent all these years wishing I had people who loved me, who took care of me, who needed me. And now I've finally got you and under all the competition there's a little bit of me that's like, fuck, why can't I rest on my laurels? Why do I have to get another season out like I'm wringing out a dishrag?" He rolled his head back and sighed. "I am so fucking glad we won tonight, because that might be the only way I'm brave enough to say this."

Andy wasn't good at accepting the fact that Kent loved her. It was like she was coated with an impermeable resin, and that love only seeped in when it cracked and flaked with age. But she didn't think it was just that difficulty that left her feeling that Kent's love for Nick was so much deeper than his love for her.

She wasn't jealous. It wasn't a competition. In some ways it felt like how the world ought to be. It was just a kind of realization: If Kent and I divorced, he'd hurt a lot, but then he'd live again. If he lost Nick, he'd never recover. The immensity of that secondhand love was so deep that it threatened to overwhelm her, and she was kind of humbled just to witness it.

It's gotta be good, some part of her thought. It overcame his pride and his workaholism.

"So," she said, voice rusty. "Rochester. How far is that from Buffalo?"

#kent parson #andy scarlatti #maida and luis #kent parson and the comeback kid #stuff i wrote

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lokgifsandmusings · 6 years

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Definitive Ranking of Book 1 Episodes, #9/12

9. 1x06 And The Winner Is...

It’s the probending finals! That’s it. That’s literally it.

As I go through these metas, I’m constantly rethinking my rankings since the issues seem to crystallize. For instance, though I might have enjoyed “Skeletons in the Closet” over something like “A Leaf in the Wind” due to personal taste, my “Endgame” essay made it clear that many of the structural and thematic problems of the season were tied to the last few episodes. For that reason, I kind of expected “Turning the Tide” to be next, since it’s the episode where (by my own account) the ‘wheels came off’ the narrative.

There *is* a lot to tackle there, but “And The Winner Is...” was right next to it on my first pass-through list, and I simply couldn’t think of a way in which it’s better.

The best that can be said about 1x06 is that it’s not bad. It’s really not. It hedges on “fine” territory for most of the episode. At the same time, it’s unthinkable that this is *all* that happens in a full episode. We’ve had utterly *packed* 22 minutes before, like “Enemy At The Gates”. Here, it’s basically two things:

There’s a championship match & some team prep

Amon attacks after the match

Hell this could have easily been combined into one bullet point if I had been trying.

It’s not that focused episodes are necessarily a bad thing, either. “Operation Beifong” is easily one of my favorites, and that B-plot may as well not exist. But the main issue is that the driving tension of this episode, at least until the terrorist attack, is a rivalry match that was established the episode prior. And consisted entirely of one mean remark on the part of Tahno that was also vaguely suggestive. Like, I’m sorry to hear Bolin and Mako lost to them off-screen in the past, but Tahno literally had four lines that was just sort of, “You are losers.” Was anyone super gripped by this?

This is especially an issue given that it followed the episode of probending saturation. Again, probending is a successful tool to showcase Korra’s development in teamwork (remember her extreme isolation in the South Pole), and to also show what type of Avatar she is and what her mark is: she reconciles the old tried-and-true into the modern era with her own spin on it (airbending applied to pro sports). However, that use was kind of drained after “A Leaf in the Wind.” All we’re left with is watching yet another match, and worse still, this one is presented as if we should be really hanging on to find out the outcome.

Look, Tahno seems like an asshole. We also are primed on a cultural level to root for the underdogs by default, and of course we’d rather the team with the people we know and like at this point be the victors. It’s *fine*, but forgive me for not being invested. I do think Amon’s attack at the stadium was an effective venue, though for the life of me, I fail to see why it couldn’t have come at the end of 1x05. We didn’t need Amon’s warning, and I actually think a surprise would have been even better (and made more sense; but I’ll get to that). Plus, that would solve a lot of the issue of 1x05’s pacing. We didn’t need 3 random matches just like we didn’t need continual love triangle idiocy. “Let’s be friends” could have been easily established before the final match against Tahno, and then the episode would end with chaos erupting.

I’m dangerously close to fix-it fic, and I realize that. But I just don’t see this episode justifying itself as is. What is the value of having Tarrlok, Lin, and Tenzin debate how to handle an attack that was always going to happen? I mean, I’m usually all for this kind of granular detail, but there was no incentive or reward for the audience agreeing with anyone in it. Other than that, we had Korra and the Ferrets attacking pictures of Tahno and a match where the Wolfbats cheat (which wouldn’t have been hard to establish in half the time), before the attack itself.

For an episode that was supposed to set the tone of the rest of the season, it felt very much like spinning-wheels.

Alright, now the logical issues. Tarrlok, Lin, and Tenzin know this terrorist threat is there. The whole Council is united in closing down the arena (and are unmoved by Korra, Bolin, and Mako arguing for it to stay open because...they want it to) until Lin runs in and says they need to show city-wide strength and unity against the Equalists. This is a decent point, especially because it’s still unclear what percentage of nonbenders even support this cause. There’s no real debate that ensues, however, even though these are rather relevant topics to address.

Tarrlok agrees to this as long as Lin is the one to personally ensure responsibility for everyone’s safety. Which is just...this doesn’t make sense. It’s still the Council’s decision to go through with it, and it also seems bizarre that the only thing fueling Tarrlok’s decision was personal risk. He is legitimately committed to stopping the Equalists, and there’s no reason why the presence of police would alter his calculus about keeping the arena open very much. Plus, is he elected? What is his biggest fear, here?

The weirdest part to me, though, is why *wouldn’t* Lin’s police force already be assumed as protection? In fact, shouldn’t she have been in on this conversation from the get-go, since it’s literally about security, and even just Amon threatening to attack the place would trigger a very serious response on the part of the police department?

Maybe these are nitpicks, or maybe I’m just frustrated by the fact that Amon could have easily been stopped if they just positioned metalbenders and the entrance and searched everyone. I guess in fairness the gloves were new technology, and they were just assuming otherwise unarmed chiblockers would show up. But the Equalists Korra fought in 1x03 undercuts this assumption quite significantly since they were already using gas canisters and other sorts of weaponry. Hell, Bolin and Mako even dealt with a guy who had those shocker-sticks, which I have to assume they would have mentioned to someone. Since, you know, the people keeping Republic City safe are running around in metal suits?

I think the crux of it, at least for me, is that in our current world, if you’re going to show us the “governmental response” to a threatened terrorist attack, it deserves to be handled in a way that 1) makes sense and 2) actually tries to grapple with the balance of showing resilience/unity versus safety and the risks associated with both. I’m just not sure LoK was ever really the show that should have tried to handle this, and certainly not when our protagonist is arguing one side on the basis of her wanting to participate in a sporting event.

Which again, but a surprise attack could have resolved this issue.

There’s also a more general problem here, and that’s the Equalists and their very, very undefined support. We’re supposed to assume the majority of nonbenders are *not* Equalists, or at least, that’s what 1x08 implied with the police force inflicting harm (or almost doing so) on a vulnerable population. We see that Amon’s rallies are popular and people were generally supportive of vigilante justice being doled out against corrupt gang members (again, debending can kind of be thought of as disarmament, at least before Amon’s “cleansed of impurity” quasi-genocidal speech begins), but there’s a large difference between that and willingly hiding a glove in a bucket of popcorn and attacking the police with it.

We could think that most nonbenders do want *something* done about the inequality and the way benders are able to extort (also their taxation without representation, I guess), but is *this* really the message that’s going to get people on-board:

“Good morning, citizens of Republic City. This is Amon. I hope you all enjoyed last night's pro-bending match, because it will be the last. It's time for this city to stop worshiping bending athletes as if they were heroes. I am calling on the council to shut down the bending arena and cancel the finals, or else there will be severe consequences.”

If anything, this is the kind of shit that would bring people together to say “fuck those guys.” Amon was able to spin the Wolfbat’s win into some commentary that was probably relatively resonant, but again, it’s the premeditated nature of this that seems utterly unstrategic. Had the Council shut it down...where does he make his speech about taking Gotham back from the corrupt?

Actually, speaking of Bane, remember that time he interrupted a major sporting event? And told everyone to “Take control of your city. This...this is the instrument of your liberation! ...We come here not as conquerors, but as liberators, to return control of this city to the people.” And a big part of that working was the ELEMENT OF SURPRISE? And the fact that it was well-attended because people weren’t scared shitless? And the cops were on a false trail instead of having been given a heads up about an attack?

I don’t even know what point I’m making anymore. That Amon is a failed Bane? (Who’s really more like comic!Ra’s al Ghul, according to Griffin.) That Nolan pulled off this concept better than Bryke, though 1x06 aired like two months beforehand?

Really, what it boils down to is that it bothers me when it feels like things ~just happen~ to advance the plot. Amon’s threat was seeded before this episode, and an attack makes sense and ups the stakes. But the open Equalist revolution announcement shouldn’t have to rely on the idiocy of everyone else. Also, in 1x04 it was “too early” to take Korra’s bending since she’d be a martyr. But now two episodes later, probending athletes are a suitable target? Sure they cheated, but these aren’t exactly crime bosses or even someone like Tarrlok. They’re not martyrs? They had fans. Finding out Lance Armstrong had been juicing was really upsetting, but I doubt we’d be cheering at someone breaking his legs (and his off-race behavior makes Tahno look like a cinnamon roll).

Yes, probending represents the worshipping of a privilege. But that is a full stadium, no matter how you slice it.

Really, if we had any idea of the support the Equalists enjoyed, or perhaps a deeper look at the plight of the nonbender past phonograph destruction, I think this could have landed. That’s perhaps where the creative energy needed to go in the episode immediately preceding it, rather than romance, especially since the Bolin leg of the love trapezoid was not needed in any way. (Frankly neither was Asami as a device to hook up Makorra in the first place.) But without it, it just comes across as a little bit of an ass-pull. This is especially the case when the Wolfbats’ cheating wasn’t even hinted at before their match. Wouldn’t Bolin have known this and mentioned it to Korra?

That said, there are nice things about this episode, and I think this is where this book’s definitive rankings turn a corner. Because truly, I feel bad having almost nothing nice to say about the 3 previous episodes I’ve dug into.

For one, I love anything Linzin. I’m like, “oh yeah, you wreck that home, Lin!”, but they do give me significant feels, and I think it’s fantastic how they’re scripted. There’s obvious affection there, as well as hurt, and this kind of deeply-rooted inability to communicate entirely honestly. Lin’s “Like old times?” actually makes me make disgusting noises at my computer. Especially since she immediately walks it back. Remember how they probably dated for like a decade and a half?

STAHP IT!!

I think it’s kind of funny that Lin is accidentally an abysmal chief of police in the narrative. Like I said, stopping and searching everyone would have been the way to go, unless that happened and the popcorn was somehow overlooked. Still, her confidence and old tried-and-true methods did help frame the uprising in an effective way.

That’s the other thing: even with Amon’s announcing of it, the Equalists revealing themselves was awesome. The slow-motion worked effectively, along with Korra’s hazy vision, and the way that there were Equalists hiding in plain-sight within the audience. Their ascent to the airships was a little silly as a conclusion, but otherwise Amon’s message and the reveal of the electric glove worked well. Though one odd thing was that in absence of distributing these (I guess they didn’t want them to fall into bender hands?), it felt a little salespitchy. “And you too can ensure equality for only 9 yuans!”

(x)

The rooftop fight was a wonderful conclusion, especially since the episode ended on the somber note, with a pulled out shot of the destruction. Lin is the perfect action hero, and this also showcased Korra’s prowess, without completely breaking the narrative. She threw herself into the fight without thinking much, and ended up needing rescue, though not before reminding us of her amazing physicality.

The conclusion was good, it was just the path getting there was not particularly engaging. Which interestingly is the complete opposite of Book 1 as a whole. Still, it was the halfway chapter needed, and the surprise Equalist uprising in the stadium is iconic enough to be ripped off. If only the follow-through had been there.

#12 1x12 “Endgame”

#11 1x05 “The Spirit of Competition"

#10 1x11 “Skeletons in the Closet”

1x06 photo recap found here

Book 2 ranking/essays found here

Book 4 ranking/essays found here

#book 1 ranking #lok meta #legend of korra #korra 1x06 #and the winner is

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scarlett-is-in-deep-shit · 6 years

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A series of events | Peter Parker

Author’s note = Hi, I’m kinda new to this, so I don’t quite know how these things work. English is also not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or mistyped words.

Pairing = Angel!Reader x Peter Parker

Warnings = Swearing. (Just a heads up, this will be a common thing in my stories.)

Summary = It was a normal day for you, until you found out Peter’s secret, and so did he.

Word count = 2427

Y/n sighed as she settled on the roof of a building, fixing her mask as she looked down at the streets. She was patrolling the city, looking out for thefts and criminals. Her eyes fixated on a certain brown-headed boy whose holding an awfully familiar red and blue shirt. Though she couldn’t see clearly since she forgot her contacts at home, but it’s clear enough for her to recognize her best friend

She flew down, making sure to land on a safe distance from him. She quickly made her wings vanish and threw on a hoodie and pants, that she took from her backpack, to cover her suit. She quietly approached the boy, tapping on his shoulder making him scream.

The boy, Peter Parker, turned around and exclaimed “Y/N!”

“Hey pete, what are you doing here?”

“I..um, I was taking a walk."

“To the dumpster..?”

Peter smiled sheepishly at her hoping she bought his lie.

“What about you? What are YOU doing here?” Peter said, desperate to change the topic. “I was walking past the alley and I saw you, so I decided to approach you.” The lie slide off her tongue smoothly. Y/n was used to lying by now, sometimes even her best friends can’t tell when she was telling a lie or the truth.

Suddenly both of their phones chimed simultaneously, alerting both of them about the crime that’s going on down the street. She looked at her phone, not noticing that he was checking his phone too, still looking at her phone she said “I’m gonna go, my mom’s probably looking for me, we’re still on for tonight right?” Finally looking up when she asked him the question. “Yeah, I’ll see you at six past ten.” Peter replied looking up. After sending a smile towards him, she took off jogging.

Peter let out a sigh, relieved that she hadn’t caught him red-handed. He quickly took off his clothes and put on his suit, webbing his backpack on the dumpster, hoping that it wouldn’t be taken away again. He started swinging from building to building, thankful that the city had quite a lot of buildings. He arrived at the crime scene, pushing past the police he went inside the bank. Some robbers were keeping the workers hostage, while they take all the money.

Leaning on a wall nearby, he exclaimed, “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” With that sentence, he caught all the robbers’ attention. Peter shot his web at one of the guns that was directed towards the hostages. He webbed the weapon down to the floor, then he ducked when one of the robbers tried to punch him. The robbers tried to get away when Peter was fighting another robber, they quickly pack the money and run to the back door. Before they got the chance to escape, Peter webbed them, making them stuck to the wall.

When Peter was too busy webbing the robbers who tried to escape, a robber took one of the guns then pointed it towards one of the hostages that didn’t get to get out of the bank. “Stop! Surrender now or I kill her!” Exclaimed the robber with an obvious fake accent. Suddenly, both of them heard an unfamiliar voice, “Now, that’s not polite is it?” It was Shadow, the new superhero who has actual angel wings, this was the first time she spoke. Peter knew that wasn’t her real voice because her impression of a British accent was near but not accurate, but it seems to work on the robber so he decided not to point it out.

When Peter got out of his daze, Shadow had already tied up the robber, let the hostage free, wrote a note, and got out of the building. Shadow was known for her fast actions, her powers were never confirmed but there were theories, a lot of people seem to think that she got super speed. She was never seen by anyone, anyone who was present in her presence had only seen a mere shadow, thus the name “Shadow” came along.

Peter walked to the robber, taking the note on his forehead. “We finally meet. -S” Peter read out loud. He decided to keep the note and hand the robbers over to the police. Peter continued his patrol around the city, sometimes stopping to take pictures with his fans. He stopped a few minor crimes here and there, but nothing like the robbery that happened before.

Peter’s stomach grumbled, he decided to buy pizza, making sure to buy two boxes and saving one so when y/n came to his house they wouldn’t need to wait anymore. He walked into a small pizza shop, grabbing everyone’s attention as he walked to the counter. “Hi, how can I help you?” The cashier said not looking up. “Can I get uhh.. two large pepperoni pizza with two medium sized sprite, please?” Peter said as he looked at the menu, when he looked at the cashier, he was met with a wide-eyed person.

“Y-you’re Spider-Man, I just saw you on TV.” The cashier said with awe. “Yeah, I am.” Peter said feeling proud. “I’ll get your order as quick as possible.” Said the worker. Ten minutes passed, the worker came with Peter’s order. “Here you go sir, your total will be $39.5.” said the worker handing him his orders. “Thanks, here.” Peter said giving him a $50 bill.

“Hey Karen, what time is it?” Peter asked into his suit. “17.57 p.m.” “What?! Shit! I’m gonna be late.” Peter exclaimed. He sprinted out of the shop, “Hey! What about your change?” “Keep it!”

“I appreciate what you do for our country!” Yelled a stranger as Peter sprinted home. Yelling a ‘Thank you’ he continued to run until he crashed with someone making them fall. Fortunately, he was right in time to catch them before they fall. “Fuck! Sorry.” Peter said, his eyes widened when he saw that he crashed with y/n.

“It’s okay really, shit happens.” Y/n said brushing it off. “I would like to stay and make it up for you, but I’m running late for a-” “Date?” “No, but I wish it was.”

His eyes widened again, realizing that he said that in front of y/n, his best friend and crush. He smiled when he heard her giggle. This time, y/n’s eyes widened, she just realized that she was also running late. “Shit, I gotta go, you should too, don’t want to keep that special person waiting.” Y/n winked then walked away. She turned around when she realized she forgot something.

“Hey Spider-Man!” Y/n called. “Yeah?” “Can I have a picture?” “I mean I did crash into you, so I still kinda owe you.” “You know you sound a lot like my friend Peter.” The camera clicked capturing the widened eyes of the mask. “O-oh is that so?”

“Yeah, I should go now, thanks for the picture.”

Peter decided to swing from buildings to buildings to get there faster. He stopped in the previous alley where he met y/n, to take his backpack. Looking cautiously, he checked if anyone was around, pushed the spider on his suit, he quickly put on some clothes, then sprinted to his apartment.

Peter saw y/n heading for the entrance door, then decided to climb the fire escape instead. He opened his window and came in, locking it after he went in. Peter quickly took off his suit, the note from Shadow falling out of it. He hid his suit and threw his backpack on his bed. The moment he opened his bedroom door, he heard a knock on his door. “Just a second!” He yelled. Peter quickly put the pizza that he was still holding, on the coffee table and went to open the door.

Y/n’s bright smile greeted Peter, making butterflies erupt in his stomach. “You look like you just ran all the way here.” Y/n said, noticing Peter’s heavy breathing. “W-what, no, of course not, I just, uh, exercised.” Peter chuckled nervously. He moved out of the way to let y/n in. “You already ordered pizza?” Y/n asked looking at the familiar pizza box. “Yeah, I picked it up when I was on the way home.” Peter said.

“I’m gonna pick the movies.” Y/n said. “What! No, why?” Peter whined. “Because you always pick star wars and I don’t feel like watching it.” Y/n replied as you head for his room, where all the movies are. “Fine, I’ll set up the food.” Peter replied.

Y/n was searching for the movies in the shipwreck her best friend called a room. She spotted the stack of movies in the corner of the room. She went to pick the movies. After a time of consideration, she decided with Kingsman : The Secret Service. On the way back, she heard something wrinkle. Looking down, she realized she stepped on a piece of paper. Y/n picked it up, her eyes widened when she saw her handwriting.

“Y/n, what’s taking you so long?” Y/n heard Peter shout. “Be right there!” Y/n shout back. She decided to keep the note, wanting Peter to tell her himself. “Is the popcorn ready?” Y/n asked. “Yeah, what did you pick?” Peter asked back. “Kingsman-” “Of course! I should’ve known.” He interrupted her. “What do you mean by that?” Y/n asked him. “You have a crush on that eggy actor since we’ve seen Kingsman the first time on theaters!” Peter exclaimed. “First of all, it’s eggsy, Pedro.” Y/n squinted her eyes at Peter. Peter rolled his eyes playfully at her.

“Second of all, I can’t help that Taron- yes that’s his real name, wha- Peter stop laughing, is so hot and adorable!” Y/n gushed at the thought of Taron Egerton. “Isn’t he like twice your age?” Peter retorted. “Yes, but like, I’m never gonna meet him, let alone date him! Besides I’ve got someone else in mind.” Y/n said, purposefully lowering her volume at the last part, hoping that Peter didn’t hear her.

Yet, he did. He felt a pang of jealousy, his mind resorting to the guys at school that y/n might be interested in. “Who?” Peter asked. “What?” Y/n asked in shock. “Who’s your crush?” Peter said in a sing-song. Y/n’s face went bright red, “N-no one.” She stuttered “Liar! I’m gonna found out sooner or later l/n.” Peter squinted his eyes playfully at her. She rolled her eyes, letting a smile slip on her face. “Whatever, dork. Let’s begin, I’m starving.”

Peter was awakened by a loud crashing sound. Instinctively, he looked at y/n, sighing when she was beside him sleeping. 'She looks so cute.’ he thought. He moved, careful not to wake her. Peter turned on his phone, greeted by a blinding bright light. He quickly lower the brightness level and checked the time. '03.57 a.m.’ it read. Peter decided to go to the fire escape to look at what’s going on. When he heard a gunshot, he quickly sprinted to his room and went to put on his suit.

Peter swing from building to building, trying to locate the sound. He arrived at a shop, it was burning, there was a person lying in front of the shop with a gun shot. He quickly assisted the person, applying pressure to the wound to decrease the bleeding.

Meanwhile, Y/n woke up to the lost of warmth, she noticed that Peter was gone. She sensed trouble and quickly search her mask in her backpack. When she put it on, her clothes were quickly replaced by a body suit. She quickly got out of the apartment, flying to the destination that her suit detected trouble at.

Peter felt a presence behind him, looking back he saw shadow. “Shadow! This guy’s bleeding from his stomach and the building’s burning and-” Peter or Spider-Man rambled. “Calm down Spidey, I’ll handle the guy and you go handle the burning building, I’m sure there’s a fire hose around here somewhere.” Shadow or Y/n said, already on the person’s side, aiding him with her healing powers. When Peter registered her words, Shadow is already beside him holding two fire hoses.

“What are you doing just staring! We need to calm the fire.” Shadow said handing Peter the hose as she turned them on. She pointed the hose at the burning building, Peter copying her. They prevented the fire from spreading in no time. Shadow was about to bolt out of the place when Spider-Man held her hand. “Wait!” Peter said with a surge of confidence. “Yes?” Shadow asked. “U-uh, just wanna thank you for helping me, again. Maybe you should consider joining the avengers sometime. I could introduce you to Mr.stark?” Peter rambled, yet again. “Maybe, see you around Spidey.” With that, Shadow is in no sight.

Y/n’s stomach rumbled, she decided to go to McDonald’s to give Peter time. She decided to confront Peter tonight, more accurately, today. Y/n ordered McDonald’s through the drive through, not wanting to spread her identity to a bunch more people. She had a few laughs at the expressions of the worker when they notice the wings. With her speed, she sprinted back home, Peter’s home, in 2 minutes. Y/n saw the red and blue suit climbing into Peter’s room. She quickly went to the apartment, and opened the door as quietly as she can. She crept to Peter’s room, finding the door wide open.

Y/n stood beside the door, facing Peter’s back, waiting for the right time to act. Then Peter took his mask off. “What the fuck?!” Y/n exclaimed, grateful that Aunt May wasn’t home tonight. Peter turned around as fast as lightning, eyes wide staring at her in shock. “I can explain-” Peter started, but was cut off “Nah, just kidding I already know that you’re Spider-Man. I saw the note that I gave you.” “Wait a minute, umm..since when did you have-” “Shit, my wings.” “What the hell?! What do you mean you gave me the note?” Y/n looked blankly at Peter, waiting for him to solve it himself.

“Yo-you’re shadow!” Peter exclaimed, finally solving the puzzle. “No shit, Sherlock. Gee Pete, You may be top in your class, but you’re dumb as fuck.” Y/n replied. “What? How?” Peter asked, curiousity laced on his words. “I think I should be asking you the same thing. I mean you’ve been slinging around the city, with a spandex, this whole time without telling me?” Y/n said. “You didn’t tell me either.” Peter shot back. “Guess it’s fair then.” Y/n shrugged.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” The two asked simultaneously.

Author’s note =

Well that’s another story for another time. That’s it, my first imagine that I published. I hope you like it, tell me if you want me to publish a second part, in which both of them shares their reasons and experiences. Feel free to correct any mistakes, point out any plot holes, and voice out your opinions, professionally.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Yoü and I Ch. 2 (Shalaska) - pradatrash

AN: I am so overwhelmed and happy with people’s positive response to this story! I absolutely am in love with writing Shalaska, and I’m so glad to know people like reading about them just as much. It means so much and I hope you enjoy the second chapter! I apologize in advance for the angsty af chapters, but it will look up I promise! Small note: more recent flashbacks will not be italicized where as old old flashbacks will be italicized, I’ll try to make this as less-confusing as I can so bare with me I’m still trying to work out the format! xx

ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11455776/chapters/25755597

Flashbacks

I tell you all the time, Heaven is a place on earth with you

Her back slams into the wall but the pain is only momentary before she melts into the groping hands of Alaska, a loud moan escaping her lips in the process. She can feel her large black wig cushion her head as she grabs a hold of Alaska’s waist and turns them to reverse their positions, reclaiming her dominance with another long moan.

Sharon isn’t sure when this even started, how it continued or how it will end but all she can think of right now is that she’s not sure that Alaska and her had ever really ended in the first place. Her touch feels like home and no matter how many times she tells herself that her fiancé is home it just doesn’t fit.

She’s never really felt nervous before, around anyone really. She’s always just been the fuck it queen but now standing in front of this person, her dress half pulled down and her throat clawing for air she feels fucking nervous. Sharon Needles only gets nervous around one person and that person is now leaving a long trail of rough kisses down her neck.

Fuck she missed Alaska’s touch, her lips, her long blonde hair, her fucking everything.

“You were…were really good tonight, your Caitlyn Jenner is hilarious…”

Breaking their lips from each other breathlessly Sharon smirks at her and raises an inquisitive eyebrow before letting out a loud laugh. It’s so typical of them, being able to have casual conversations while simultaneously having or about to have sex.

Sharon’s hand on Alaska’s ass felt like home, where she belonged and every time they hooked up their body’s reacted as if it were the first time seeing each other since breaking up even though virtually every night of the BOTS tour ended with them in bed together. It was undeniable, consuming, powerful but still something neither of them quite understood.

The minute Alaska had walked into the first rehearsal for Battle of the Seasons it was like no time had passed between her and her spooky counterpart. They joked, laughed and were all over each other in what to an onlooker would seem platonic but to their close friends it was like they had never broken up.

It had taken two beers for Sharon and two apple juices for Alaska the night of the first BOTS show before they were all over each other in the hotel afterwards. She couldn’t explain it—even after all the crazy shit, heartbreak and inner turmoil Alaska had gone through at the end of their relationship there was this undeniable aspect to Sharon fucking Needles she just could not get rid of, and in the end she really didn’t ever want to.

When Alaska had come to her senses the first night of BOTS and momentarily ceased their kissing to ask, “What about your fiancé?” She had fully expected Sharon to come to her senses and pull away but she just shook her head and said,

“It’s just you and I, doll.”

That fucking phrase. Every time Sharon said it Alaska was positive she had heard it sometime before but thinking about the past was way more painful than she needed it to be, and most of her memories were of being blackout drunk so she often strayed away from a trip down memory lane.

It was some fucked up game that only the two of them could play and they played it pretty fucking well. It was like fighting fire with an erupting volcano and both of them were getting burned, but they’d rather go up in flames together than nothing at all.

Alaska knows deep down that she has to stop this, it will eventually end when Sharon walks down that aisle to someone that isn’t her, but that very thought makes her chest seize and her vision blur—she keeps telling herself she won’t let it happen next time but then like clockwork every night after BOTS Sharon’s lips were on hers and “I won’t do this again” always became a distant memory.

Now it was the last few shows on the tour and everyone was excited yet exhausted and ready to go home but not for Alaska. She was tired, beyond tired, but she couldn’t stand the thought of not waking up next in the same bed as Sharon. It was pathetic really, she was engaged and had been for a while, Alaska was working towards big things, and it just made her feel so fucking stupid that after all this time she was still hung up on this train wreck.

Sharon had moved on like the speed of light after they had ended, and it had devastated Alaska more than she had let on in interviews, and she herself really hadn’t dated anyone seriously since. It’s not like she could if she tried and she had tried her fucking hardest.

Willam made fun of her for not being able to even get past a first date but every time she even got to a date with someone she would just look them in the eye and think to herself; “You’re not Sharon.” Then it was just all downhill from there.

A loud ringtone blares into her thoughts and pulls Alaska back from her mind into the present where Sharon’s head snaps to her phone next to them on the table. It was him. Alaska didn’t even have to look at the caller I-D to feel her heart sink into her chest.

“Shit…sorry he’s calling.” Alaska swallows and feigns indifference even though it feels like someone has just taken a sledgehammer to her gut, she makes a move to pull back from Sharon but the other queen’s hand is still gripping her waist and she closes her eyes momentarily, trying to memorize this touch.

“You should take it, I have to de drag anyways.”

She gives Sharon a reassuring smile and a shoulder squeeze before moving past her back to the dressing rooms, her throat feeling heavy as she hears her pick up the call in a lively tone. She pulls delicately at her lashes as she sits in front of the vanity before she catches the eye of Sharon in the mirror and the two hold eye contact for what feels like an eternity but then she’s gone out the door to finish the call and Alaska is back to staring at her reflection except she truly doesn’t recognize the person looking back.

—

“Okay, 450…500! We made 500, baby!” Aaron squeals and tosses the cash into the air, letting it rain down over them on the couch as Justin pretends to hide from the falling dollar bills. “We might actually be able to make rent this month AND have some left over to get Cerrone that fancy cat food brand, you know the one that all the housewives buy for their mini poodles or some shit.”

Justin throws his head back in laughter before he nuzzles his face into Aaron’s neck from where they’re cuddled together. The small exhale of breath against Aaron’s skin makes the blonde close his eyes and bite his lip. This was what happiness felt like. Sitting on their dingy couch in Pittsburgh, barely making rent after performing another show at Blue Moon.

“Noodles, we did it! We’re rich!” Justin’s wide mouth splits into a goofy grin before he waves Cerrone’s paws in the air victoriously the cat looking anything but amused with the gesture. Aaron kisses the top of his head and looks down at the cash in his lap. They were barely making ends meet what with doing drag and both of them working part time jobs but his heart had never felt so full, it was an odd kind of reality he was living in.

He had thought by now he’d be a world famous drag queen, living that rock n roll lifestyle whatever that was but he instead found himself here with Justin, poor as fuck, but happy. That wasn’t a word that Aaron had always been familiar with.

“You know we could make more money if…” Justin starts to say but Aaron quickly shakes his head and looks away, pretending to suddenly admire their curtains. “Don’t say it J…”

“If you auditioned for drag race! I know you Noodles, you’d win hands down. You’re a different kind of queen and people would love to see that!” Aaron’s lip curled up reflexively while he shakes his head. “They can’t handle me, I’m too rated X.” Justin laughs gently, bumping his shoulder against Aaron’s. “Okay, but just think about it?”

A calm silence falls over them as Aaron thinks, it’s not uncomfortable it’s just a moments pause. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it, Justin has even offered multiple times to help him with his audition tape but there is just something about Drag Race that belongs to Justin and not to him. He wanted fame, yes, but he didn’t want this to be the key mainly because he couldn’t bare the thought of making it onto a season on his first try where he has seen Justin struggle through audition after audition for every single season.

It literally had killed Aaron to see his boyfriend face rejection every single year, it killed him so much that he had developed an intense hatred for the show. How dare they reject the most amazing person Aaron had ever met. It was a stupid fucking game and even though $35,000 was more money than they would probably ever see in their lifetime, and the new season was rumored to have a $100,00 prize, nothing would ever, ever be worth seeing Justin hurt like that.

It wasn’t until just a couple months ago when the season 4 casting call went out that Justin brought it up casually over dinner that Aaron should send an audition tape. He had almost choked on his food because just the mere thought of anyone judging his drag was irritating and frustrating because no one really understood Sharon Needles. They liked that she was spooky and “weird”, but the only person that truly got it was Justin. The only audience Aaron ever needed was him, fuck everyone on Drag Race.

“Babe?” Aaron blinks out of his inner rant and looks down at the one person that made the every day struggle worth it. “I don’t need that dumb show. It’s just you and I, doll.”

Justin cracks another smile, causing Aaron’s heart to practically leap out of his chest. “Promise?” Aaron purses his lips and leans in so their foreheads are touching, just inches from each other. “I swear on my Ouija board.” Justin tosses his head back once more and lets out that contagious laugh and right then Aaron decides that’s the only sound he’ll ever need.

—

The last night of the tour. The crowd is screaming so loud the sound is drowning everything, Sharon flashes a grin to the audience and waves her hand, the screaming getting even louder if that were possible. This was the thrill she lived for, she felt like a thousand shots of adrenaline had just been injected into her body.

She does a cute spin and blows a kiss to the crowd after Michelle announces her name before she returns to the center of the lineup. It’s then that she spots him in the crowd. He must have come to surprise her for the last show but instead of a warm feeling filling her chest she feels a drop.

He catches her eye and waves proudly, her throat constricting as she practically has to force herself to smile and wave back. Stop being so stupid, Sharon, he’s safe, he’s good to you. He’s safe.

Sharon takes a moment while Michelle reads off the queen’s other names to examine her fiance’s face. He had an okay smile, but she didn’t like the feel of his beard especially when he kissed her and it rubbed against her cheek. And that fucking neck tattoo, well don’t even get her started, she was not a fan of it to say the least.

He was everything Alaska was the opposite of and maybe at one point she had fallen for that but she can’t pinpoint when. Maybe it was the fact that he worshipped the ground that she walked on—he had been a fan of her long before they even got together and in a way it fed the giant Sharon Needles ego but now it just irritated her.

She takes her time dedragging, slightly dreading the fact that she’ll have to go and face him after the show and act surprised and happy he’s there. She hates herself for what she’s become, but she can’t stop these feelings of resentment now.

“Amazing last show everyone!! I’m so proud of all of you!” Michelle’s voice rings out through the dressing room and everyone cheers. in response Talks of an after party spreads through the room and Jinkx gently asks her if she’s going to go. Sharon never really passes up an opportunity to drink but after seeing Chad’s face in the audience she doesn’t feel that up for anything.

“I think I’m going to skip this one.” She gives Jinkx an apologetic smile as the vivacious queen quirks a curious eyebrow. “Sharon Needles? Passing up the opportunity to drink and party? Is this the Twilight zone or some shit?”

Sharon chuckles in response, everyone turning their heads at the same time in curiosity. She purposefully avoids looking at Alaska and just shrugs again in response. “Chad’s here he’ll probably just want to go back to the hotel—“

“And fuck!!!” Ginger’s voice interrupts her and everyone bursts into laughter including herself. She flips Ginger the bird and continues to run makeup wipes over her face yet she doesn’t even confirm that. “Honey, I wish I had a boyfriend that flew halfway across the country to surprise me.” Ginger gives her a playful bump on the shoulder but Sharon still can’t even find the words to agree, she settles for another smile and stands to finish changing.

Once they’re all out and finished with signing autographs outside the venue he feels an arm around his waist and looks over to an elated Chad. “Hey baby, thought I’d surprise you for the last show!” He feigns excitement and leans in to kiss him quickly before anyone can catch it.

“I thought you were traveling to Chicago for work?” He casually asks, trying to keep his voice quiet from the queen’s piling into various vans on their way to the after party. “I am, I just wanted to drop by on my layover and say hi.” Aaron raises an eyebrow and feels a slight jump in his heart. “You can’t stay the night?”

He plasters on a look of disappointment as Chad kisses him once more and shakes his head in apology. “I’m afraid not babe, I have to head back to the airport but you have fun at the after party for me, okay?” Aaron nods and leans in for a quick kiss for appearances sake as Michelle calls to him from the van. “Needles, you coming?!”

He gives Chad a squeeze on the waist before they part towards their separate vehicles. “Bye babe! See you back home!” He saunters up to the van and Michelle gives him a weird look. “What?” She laughs gently and throws a small wave in Chad’s direction. “You look happier away from him than you did standing with him.” Aaron gasps in mock insult and Michelle wags a finger at him.

“It’s none of my business Needles but just be careful, okay?” There were moments where Michelle’s protectiveness showed through for her queens and although the two had had their differences Aaron always felt comfortable telling her anything. “I will Michelle, I promise.”

She hugs his shoulders and points to the white van in the parking lot, rocking in place because of the amount of queens in it all yelling and talking with one another. Michelle laughs loudly with a shake of her head. “Jesus, drag queens, right?” Aaron catches another van parked in the lot and motions questioningly to it. “Oh that’s for anyone skipping the party to go back to the hotel, are you coming with us or calling it a night?”

Aaron starts towards the two cars with Michelle beside him when he sees another figure in the non-party van and he doesn’t even have to see a face, just a silhouette lets him know who it is. He stops himself from smiling and nods his head towards the quieter van. “I’m going to call it a night, see you in the morning Michelle.” She kisses his cheek before hurrying to the adjacent car.

“It’s just us.” He says quietly to the driver after he slips into the back, Justin turning to him in surprise from where he was looking out the window. “Where’s…?” He starts but Aaron just purses his lips and closes the door. “He was just here for the show on a layover.”

Justin simply replies with a small, “Oh”, as the car pulls away and the two sit in comfortable silence in the semi-darkness. Occasionally their faces become illuminated from the street lamps but they still say nothing to each other. It isn’t until their five minutes from the hotel that Aaron slips his hand into Justin’s and instead of flinching away as he should Justin squeezes his hand back, practically molds them together.

They stay that way the rest of the drive and only detach momentarily to tip the driver and rush into the hotel then once the elevators door close they were on each other like fire and gasoline. Tongues, teeth, skin and nails came together as one while they stumbled to Justin’s room, falling into the same pattern.

Their hands remain linked the entire time, even as Aaron is sweating and panting hovering over Justin the one thing that grounds them is their hands squeezing one another, it reminds them that this is real. It’s just after four am when they finally break apart and Justin instantly passes out from exhaustion but Aaron stays awake and watches him sleep. He’s so peaceful when he’s asleep, like a small cat just curled up against him.

As he lays there in the early morning, the sheets ruffled and some of the pillows pushed off the bed just like when the way they used to sleep in their old home, Aaron makes it a goal to memorize every curve and shape of Justin’s sleeping face. He watches the slow rise and fall of his chest and feels his heart break into a thousand pieces all over again.

—

I heard that you like the bad girls, Honey, is that true?

#pradatrash #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #angst #you and i #fluff #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

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blackguard · 7 years

Text

SHOWTIME

The garish figure, Kamoshida, I think, looms over the beaten student, asserting his imagined superiority over him, before spitting on him. “...Hmph. Where’d your energy from earlier go?” The guard hauls the student up as he groans in pain, only to throw him across the cobbled floor to a patch adjacent to where he previously laid. “A peasant like you isn’t worth beating. I’ll have you killed right now.”

My eyes open wide with shock as the reality of the situation becomes painfully apparent. He wasn’t lying at all. He’ll kill Sakamoto without a moment of hesitation. Without even thinking, a feeble protest erupts from my throat.

“Stop it!”

“Hm...?” Over his shoulder, the king’s glowing, golden eyes turn to me, before he turns and advances on me. “What...? Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know who I am.” Leering down to my level, the light from his eyes reflects in my glasses as I attempt to meet his gaze with some manner of courage.

“That look in your eyes irritates me!” He delivers a swift kick to my gut for my small act of defiance, knocking me to the floor and the wind out of me. “Hold him there,” he says, addressing his guards once more. “After the peasant, it’s his turn to die.”

In a last ditch effort, I spring to my feet and dash toward the hideous monarch, but the knights at my side are too quick. Their hands seize my shoulders and pin me in place as the execution proceeds unimpeded.

“No... No, I don’t wanna die!” The other student faces his own mortality as the disgusting king laughs over him.

This is bullshit.

I’m not a criminal. I shouldn’t be on probation. All I did was help that woman, so why... Why is all this happening?

We were just trying trying to find our way to school, but then we wound in up in this weird castle. Then those freaky knight monsters captured us and now they’re going to kill us. I only met him a few minutes ago and now Sakamoto’s going to be killed in front of my eyes. I can’t even do anything about it. Besides, I know I’m going next.

Someone innocent is going to die right in front of me and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t have to be like this! All I wanted to do was help people, but I can’t even save someone right in front of me! What kind of fucked up life is this!?

My vision seems to dim as everything is covered in a sheet of midnight. An unfamiliar voice echoes through my mind as a lone fluorescent butterfly drifts past me. In my panic, all I can manage is to stare at it, transfixed by its cerulean glow. “This is truly an unjust game... Your chances of winning are almost none. But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you...”

There’s... There’s still a chance...? Even in a situation this hopeless, I could still turn it around? But how?! What could I possibly do that could save him here?

All too quickly, the butterfly vanishes and I’m thrown right back into the nightmare I had such a slight reprieve from. As my perception drifts back to reality, my desperation reaches its peak. In my mind, something cracks. Splinters. Shatters. Like a baseball through a wall of glass, who I’ve been, who I am, who I will be; it all comes tumbling down.

That’s when I hear him.

“What’s the matter...? Are you simply going to watch?” I hear another voice- No, that’s not right. It’s unmistakably my voice, but it sounds altogether unlike me. Confident, suave, vengeful; he sounds like some bizarre idealization of who I want to be. “Are you forsaking him to save yourself?” The voice chastises me for my cowardice with words like knives carving through bone and flesh. I can’t lie. I know there was a chance to abandon this other guy. He even tried to make one for me. I knew I could have, part of me might have even wanted to, but I still wanted to save him if I could.

“Death awaits him if you do nothing. Was your previous decision a mistake then?” The voice rises in fury as the memory of that night assaults me once more.

It was dark and there was some drunk trying to force himself on a lady. I could hear it from down the block. As someone who grew up watching superheroes, how could I not try to help her? All I did was push him away from her, but he managed to get the cops to arrest me and charge me with assault. Even that poor woman ended up turning against me. In what just and fair world does doing the right thing turn out so blatantly wrong? Was it a mistake to-

“It wasn’t.”

Before I can even finish my contemplation, the answer cuts through, eliminating the shred of doubt left within me. It wasn’t a mistake. Helping people isn’t a mistake. It never will be. My dream isn’t a mistake!

The knight lifts the other boy by the throat off his feet and levels his sword at his head. With renewed fervor, I struggle against the guards holding me, pushing myself off the wall every time they slam me back into it.

“Very well... I have heeded your resolve.” The voice speaks again as a wave of pain radiates through me to my core. Everything in me is alight with immolating flame and drowning in absolute darkness simultaneously. Tears and sweat stream down my face with little to distinguish the two. A series of tortured howls emanate from me in the vain hope that they might somehow ease my suffering. Death feels both inevitable and too sweet a release as my struggle against my captors turns from an attempt at escape to mad flailing in the throws of agony.

“Vow to me. I am thou, thou art I...” The voice continues on, almost pleased with my pain, as it details a contract I fail to comprehend. “Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice! Call upon my name, and release thy rage!” I scream skyward as the voice continues its instructions. “Show the strength of will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to hell itself!”

Like a man caught in the rapids, I finally surrender to the anguish and let it consume me, accepting the voice’s words as gospel. The metaphorical crash against the rocks never comes. The pain doesn’t subside, so much as I become accustomed to it, as a river’s current.

Evidently tired of watching his victim squirm, the garish fop grows impatient and points viciously at the young man hanging in mid-air. “Execute him!”

In a calm, even voice, I respond. “I will stop you.”

Kamoshida turns back to me in shock, his eyes wide and his voice sharp with offense. “What was that...?” The other knight mercifully drops Sakamoto from his clutches, the younger man gasping for breath while managing to stay on his feet. “You desire to be killed that much...? Fine!”

With a nod of his head, the knight on my left bashes my skull with his steel banded shield, knocking my pitiable, but nonfunctional glasses from my person. In no time at all, two of the knights pin my throat to the wall between their crossed spears as the third readies his sword to lop off my head. My fellow student, beaten and broken, can only watch in horror as my execution is carried out.

Before the deathblow can be struck however, my limp body comes to life once more. As my eyes snap open, a wave of invisible force emanates out from me, pushing back my captors. When the wind subsides, I’m startled to find something’s taken the place of my eyewear. Reaching up to my face, I find a strange avian mask has somehow affixed itself to my face. Instinctually, a desperate need to remove it takes hold of me. I feel my skin begin to strain as I pull harder and harder against the mask. Even so, I don’t stop. I can’t stop. If I stop now, then it was all for nothing!

This isn’t who I am. This isn’t my real face. The sheepish transfer student beaten down by life, that isn’t me at all!

With an awful wet rip and a cry of misery, I tear the false visage from myself as my own blood coats my face. The pain I’m in is beyond description and would only worsen if I opened my eyes. Blinding myself with my own gore might just might be enough to kill me from shock.

But for some reason, I’m not worried about that. I open my eyes regardless of the obvious consequences, only to find my vision more clear than ever before. A wicked grin splinters across my face as I feel a welcome heat surge up within me. Without any greater warning, tongues of blue flame erupt from my face and feet, spreading to quickly consume my entire person. For some reason, it doesn’t hurt at all.

The same voice from before cackles menacingly, apparently having achieved his goal. After overlaying my form, the body of fire floats upwards off me as I find myself clothed in an outlandish outfit almost shamefully to my liking. Impossible chains dangle off the immolated figure as it hovers above me, gradually twisting and distorting into that of a suited and winged devil, and fall naturally into my grasp. With a chuckle, I whip them outward and the creature lets flow another gust of wind from his great feathered limbs. Both the knights and Kamoshida are thrown across the room, impacting the walls viciously. The false king scampers away in terror as Sakomoto stares up at me in awe.

“Wha... What the...?” He voices half a question I already know the answer to.

What is he? What am I? We’re one in the same. The scales were imbalanced and so I’ve come to even them. I’m the Wild Card. I’m the Trickster. I’m- Well, why don’t you take it from here?

“I am the pillager of twilight--’Arsene’!”

#Solo piece #Just a little dramatization because awakening scenes are always the best #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYUJI REMEMBER THAT TIME I SAVED YOUR LIFE THE FIRST DAY WE MET #Our friendship cannot be rivaled

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whenwenjunhui-blog · 7 years

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Can You Feel It? (pt 1/2) [M]

Summary: Yeo One is your true enemy. He tries to take over your student council duties daily. He’s always flaunting his popularity. He always has something smart ass to say to you or about you. So what happens when you find him tied up in the classroom after hours? You can do anything to him that you want. Revenge might feel great, but who would have the last word?

Warnings: Bondage, orgasm denial, various kinks, exhibitionism, all sorts of lechery. It’s all in good fun, though.

Note: Extremely dirty. I would like to apologize for writing this in advance. OTL Read at your own risk. I know Changgu would never be a jerk like this but wouldn’t it be fun if he was? Also, I know nothing about Student Council so I just made everything up! Hooray!

As I walked into the classroom on Friday morning I saw the usual sight. Changgu hadn’t picked up the materials for today’s class and instead he was sitting at his desk with his friends surrounding him, talking animatedly and laughing. No doubt he was telling fantastic stories about his latest date.

I shoved my way through the throng of overly tall boys who were his friends. “Changgu, did you get the homeroom materials for today?”

Changgu sighed at having his story interrupted. He looked at me dismissively, straightening his tie. “Can’t you do it?”

“Why would I do it? It’s your job, not mine.”

“But I’m busy right now,” he said, having the nerve to give me his stupid aegyo face – the one with the big innocent eyes and puffy baby cheeks. “Can’t you do it?”

He always does this. He expects to get away with everything. He’s always shirking his duties as Vice President simply because he is hot and popular and everyone likes him. If he thinks the same childish act he uses on other girls will work on me, he can think again.

“I have to prepare for the student council meeting. I have things to do right now. So you go do it. Also, I need the agenda for today’s Student Council meeting,” I said, sticking my hand out.

He’d better have done it or I swear to God. The school festival starts next week and I have too many things to do. Not to mention my own VP will be no help at all.

“Uh….” He said, scratching his ear and looking around guiltily.

All his friends began to snicker, knowing that he hadn’t done it and that I would get angry, as I always did.

“Did you not do it? Again?!” I cried. “How hard is it, Changgu?”

“I just got busy last night. I had a date with a very hot girl. I mean you should have seen her. I was just in the middle of telling everyone about it, but then you ruined it,” he told me, frowning dramatically.

“How can you say something like that with a straight face?” I questioned.

“Come on, you’re a straight A student, it’s nothing for you to write up the agenda right quick,” said E Dawn. “Right?”

I stared at him so coldly it made him visibly wither. I pointed a finger to Changgu. “This jerk right here is a straight A student too! And even if he wasn’t, he should do the things he’s responsible for, right?”

Everyone began to sigh and go back to their seats, complaining that I killed the fun and ruined their joy, calling me a killjoy and a warden. Changgu fake coughed into his hand while saying the word “Buzzkill!”

I sighed and put my hands on my hips, waiting, but Changgu still didn’t get up to get the supplies. He just made himself comfy in his seat, stretching out his long legs and then popping some fruit-flavored gum into his mouth. He chewed it loudly while playing with his floppy black hair. All the while I stood there, eyes burning with hatred.

“Seriously, Jia, if you stick with this uptight routine of yours, you’re not gonna have any friends,” he said, casually.

My fists clenched at my side. I wanted to say something but I was furious beyond words. I just let out a tortured scream and left the room.

I stomped down the hall to the teacher’s lounge to find out what materials were on the list for the day. Then I gathered those from the office. The list was huge, but I just wanted to get it done so I lifted the giant stack of books and handouts and scurried back to the classroom.

I was almost through the door when I tripped on my own shoelace and found myself going down. “Whoa,” I blurted out, trying to shift the weight in my arms to correct my balance, but it was too late. “Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa!” I cried, as I fell and everything went sliding across the floor. Including me. The room erupted in laughter.

Thankfully a few of my friends ran over to help me. As I got to my feet I spied Changgu, hiding behind his hands, laughing.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he shut up, glancing away.

“Are you okay?” asked my friend, Chanyeol, who had easily helped me to my feet and was now brushing me off and checking me over for injury.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You need to be more careful. Next time you need to carry this much stuff just come get me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He started to pick up the books. “I’ll hand these out for you. You just sit.”

“Thanks oppa,” I said.

I heard a little scoff and I glanced over to see Changgu sneering in our direction.

I flipped him off and went to my seat to sit and mentally strike the past 5 minutes from my memory forever.

Later that morning I was in the student council office waiting for the others to arrive. All the junior officers filed in a bit early, and as the time came to start the meeting, only Changgu was missing.

“Should we start?” asked the Secretary.

I sighed and tapped my foot, my arms crossed over my chest. “Yes. Let’s just start anyway,” I said. “As you all know, the festival starts next week and in keeping with the season we’ll be having a Halloween theme –“

“Check out my costume!” bellowed Changgu, as he came running into the room. He didn’t even care that I was speaking or that he was late. He was holding up his costume. “I’m gonna be a pirate!”

“No way! That is so cool!” our Treasurer cried. Everyone else leaped up and gathered around Changgu praising his costume, calling it sexy. “Where did you get it?” they asked.

“Heein from the drama club made it for me. She’s great with sewing.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course Heein volunteered to hand sew a whole costume for him. When does Yeo Changgu not get his ass kissed?

Yet the members chattered on excitedly.

“I know! That is so cool! Her work is amazing. I saw it in the school play. She made these french renaissance ball gowns that were incredible! This material is fantastic!” On and on they went.

They then moved on to discussing their own costumes and all of them were chattering about the haunted house when I finally lost patience and banged the gavel extra loud like six times in a row making everyone jump and stare at me with edgy wide-eyed looks.

“Order! Order! This meeting has come to order here!” I cried wildly. “What is wrong with you people? This is not free period! Pull it together for gods sake!”

“Okay okay!” people began to say, scurrying to their seats.

“Please take your seat, Vice President YEO?” I seethed, narrowing my eyes at him and pointing to the vacant seat at my side.

Changgu strolled over and sat, turning in his seat to air kiss at me.

I frowned and shuddered in revulsion. He just laughed and blew bubbles with his gum. Then he propped his feet up on the nearby empty chair.

It was a nightmare. He was so horrible, yet I couldn’t even call him stupid since aside from his aforementioned wonderful grades, he wrote witty and entertaining essays for the school paper weekly, and had beaten me on the college entrance exams just two weeks prior. He was 5 points higher than me, which he never failed to mention. Everything he actually cared about doing he was great at. His Student Council duties just didn’t seem to make the cut.

“As I was saying. The festival – “

“Is gonna be lit!” Changgu crowed, causing everyone to cheer and begin to chatter again.

I sighed and just sat there rubbing my forehead as Changgu proceeded to preside over the meeting however he saw fit. He was making all sorts of plans that were stupid and that we didn’t even have the money for, but he wouldn’t know that because he never checked the budget like he was supposed to.

I just sat there rubbing my nose and praying to every deity that might possibly exist for the strength to resist killing him.

Finally, someone remembered I was there. “So, who is going to oversee the organizing of the booths?” the Secretary asked me.

“That is VP Yeo’s job,” I said.

“Yeah, but about that. I don’t really want to – “ he began.

I turned my head to glare at him; my eyes were like two burning coals. “Just do it!” I growled.

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But I would rather just -”

“I don’t care what you would rather do! Just do what I tell you to do! Do it! Why? Because I am the President and I’m telling you to do it!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Everyone fell silent, staring at me like I was some kind of heinous sea monster.

“Fine,” Changgu said, frowning. He sat there with his shoulders low, moping and nibbling on his fingernails.

I couldn’t stand it anymore and just banged the gavel. “Meeting adjourned,” I said.

Changgu got up in a huff and slunk his way out of the room. Everybody else followed, quiet, but shooting me accusing looks.

I tried to just put it all behind me and focus on the things I had to do, but after I packed up and left the room I saw a group of Student Council members in the hallway gathered by the stairs talking. I heard my name come up and as I got near them I heard them badmouthing me.

“She’s so mean.”

“She didn’t have to yell at him. That’s so embarrassing.”

“I know, right? Poor Changgu. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Changgu is so nice. He’s like so sweet.”

“I know right? He is a total sweetheart. How could she yell at him like that?”

“She probably also kicks puppies.”

“She probably kicks lots of puppies. She looks like a puppy kicker.”

“I wish Changgu was President instead of her.”

“Me too.”

“Me three. I didn’t even vote for her. She’s evil.”

“She’s always trying to show off. It’s like ‘okay, you’re smart, we get it.’”

“Right. There’s more to life than knowing everything.”

One of them saw me walking past and they all dropped their voices and carried on walking, eventually turning down another hall while still shooting me accusing looks until they finally disappeared.

Unbelievable! He has managed to turn everyone in the Student Council against me. The Student Council was mine! They should be my friends, not his! They don’t even know half the stuff this guy does to me, and yet I’m the one they hate? It’s so unfair!

Ugh. I’ll get you for this, Yeo Changgu. I will! If it’s the last thing I ever do!

The most wretched day of my existence had finally wound down to a close and I was looking forward to just going home, after spending some time helping teachers and tutoring some younger students after school in Math. As I left my locker, I saw Pentagon gathering in the hall looking sneaky and giggling. Well, Pentagon minus one douchebag. Then I heard Yeo One yelling from down the hall.

“Yah! What is this?! Guys? Guys, this is not funny! Come back here! You let me out of this! This is not funny! Yah, I don’t have time for this, I have a date later!”

Pentagon just laughed and laughed, then turned to leave.

I cleared my throat alerting them to my presence before they could pass me. “What happened back there?” I asked, nodding towards where Changgu could still be heard mumbling threats.

“Oh Changgu was taking a nap on the desk in the student council office so I tied him up with my mummy costume,” E Dawn said.

I laughed and laughed, So did the rest of Pentagon.

“Do you think he’ll get free?” I asked.

E Dawn shook his head and snickered. “He can’t. I tied both his arms and legs pretty tight,” he said, then cackled with glee. “This is perfect payback for what he did to me last Wednesday. I still have rug burn from that,” he said, rubbing his arm with a frown.

“Guys, I don’t know. Shouldn’t we let him go?” asked Kino. “I’m starting to feel kind of bad now. Everyone’s gone home now. It’s getting creepy in here.”

“That just makes it even better,” giggled Jinho. “Let’s go get food and come back in like a couple hours?”

“Okay!” said Hongsoek “He’ll be really pissed by then.”

With that, they all moved out, headed to get food.

I couldn’t believe they just left, but I was far too curious. I had to go see for myself, so I went down the hall to the Student Council office, where Yeo One had finally gone silent.

When I opened the door, a beautiful sight met my eyes: there lay my enemy, tied up on the desk totally immoblized.

“Oh ho ho ho ho ho!” I squealed in rapturous delight. I got so excited I had to fan my face a little.

Changgu’s brow lowered and he glared at me. “You,” he growled.

“What have we here?” I mocked, sauntering into the room with a smug grin. “Look at you, all tied up and left on my desk like a big old present. All that’s missing is a bow.”

Changgu struggled in his bonds as I approached but he could not get free.

“Look who’s not so powerful now.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and hopped onto the desk beside him, looking down at him with joy. I laughed. Then I laughed some more. Then I laughed some more.

“Yes, it’s funny. It’s so hilarious. Laugh it up all you like. But just do me a favor and untie me? Get me out of these ropes.”

“Do you a favor? Now why would I do that?” I asked, my eyes never leaving his. “When have you ever done me any favors?”

Changgu couldn’t seem to recall a single instance, but that didn’t stop him from whining and doing some bad aegyo. “Come on, don’t be like that? This desk is really hard. I’m so uncomfortable. Come on? Let me go? Have a heart?”

“Oh don’t you know? I’m the infamous puppy kicking killjoy, I don’t have a heart! There will be no favors for you today. In fact, this seems like a perfect opportunity for me.”

His head cocked to the side. “To do what?”

“Well, to exact my revenge, of course.”

He started looking around for an escape. “Uh…revenge for what?”

“For torturing me daily. You know, I never wanted you as my Vice President. You were voted in due to the popularity you bought with your pretty face and your parents’ money. And who had to suffer for it? Me. Now, it’s my time.”

Changgu went stiff, looking like he was finally catching on to what was about to happen to him.

“What’s wrong? Nervous?” I asked, leaning closer.

“Look, I know that I’ve taken my duties a little too lightly – “

“A little?”

“And I’ve been a bit of a jerk to you….”

“A bit?”

“Okay, a lot! But its only because….”

I waited.

He struggled for words.

I waited.

I started to think he was going to say something unbelievable, like that he liked me or something. As he continued to struggle I leaned closer.

He still didn’t speak, he only chewed on his lower lip looking flustered. “It’s because….” He continued.

I leaned closer, eager now to hear why he’d made my life so unbearable these past months.

He frowned then pouted. “Because I really don’t like you,” he finally said with a devious little smirk. He then snorted a little as he tried to hold in his laughter.

I laughed heartily but rage bubbled up in my chest.

“You’re no fun at all. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” he giggled.

“Oh my. Okay,” I said, smoothing my hair. “Well, you really don’t know when to quit, do you? Fine. Okay. Let’s play, Changgu.”

Part two is nowhere near done yet but it will come eventually! Hope you enjoyed it so far

#yeo one #yeo one smut #changgu #pentagon smut #kpop #scenarios #kpop smut

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 7 years

Text

Following Orders

Synopsis: Negan wants to see how far Arat’s loyalty really goes...

This is my contribution to the second Negan’s Smut Week, which I am still in awe of how many amazing contributions I’ve seen this week; y’all are awesome! This is just a oneshot, so I’m not foreseeing any future chapters. But, not gonna lie, I’m pretty proud of myself with this one. I hope y’all enjoy ;)

Author: http://flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash.tumblr.com/

Characters: Negan x Arat

Words: 5,860

Warnings: nsfw, strong language, smut, throat fucking, semi-public sex, choking, unprotected sex, Negan being a sexy mother fucker

Following Orders

“Well fucking done!” Negan bellowed, clapping one of his men on the back with a large, gloved hand.

The raid on Alexandria had been a successful one; they had not only taken a shitload of food and weapons, but had even gotten themselves a grade-A, mullet-topped bullet maker. Rick the Prick was sure to be reeling in the aftermath, and Negan chuckled to himself at the thought of the mess he had left behind, including the guts of that pussy, Spencer, which were probably still staining the ground red. Yes, it had been a grand trip, and Negan was on an adrenaline high from it.

However, if he were being honest with himself, there was one part of the trip that he hadn’t been overjoyed about. Looking across the room, he saw Arat standing there with her usual serious expression, not one bit affected by the joyous mood of the others around her. He shouldn’t be surprised at her lack of emotion. In fact, sometimes he wondered what exactly it would take to break through that tough exterior and see what kind of woman was lying underneath the sly scowls and controlled attitude.

Negan crossed the room towards her, walking past the rest of his men, who were smiling with glee as they rummaged through some of the boxes of stolen goods. Negan always gave his men first dibs on whichever items they wanted for themselves, as a reward for their loyalty.

When he made it to her side, he saw her eyes flicker up and over at him, but she didn’t give any other acknowledgment to his presence.

Leaning down, so that his voice was near her ear, he stated, “I want to see you in my office in exactly 10 fucking minutes. Alone.”

Without waiting for her confirmation, he turned and strode out of the room, lifting Lucille up over his shoulder and giving a slight smirk at the thought of what he had planned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As expected, there was a knock on his office door after precisely 10 minutes. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had gotten here a minute early and stood outside the door, waiting until the hall clock hit the exact time. If there was one thing Arat did best, it was follow his orders.

“Enter,” he yelled gruffly. He was leaning against the large window behind his desk, Lucille temporarily retired against the wall nearby, when Arat walked into the room. Closing the door quietly behind her, she took a few steps forward and halted in the direct center of the large office.

“You wanted to see me, sir,” she stated, back straight and eyes locked onto him.

Negan had made Arat one of his Saviors not long after her arrival at The Sanctuary. It had been apparent from the get-go, that while she was a strong woman who wasn’t afraid to kill or get her hands dirty, she also needed a leader to harness her in, to keep her from acting out and being too unpredictable. She had worked her way up through his ranks quickly, her leadership and fighting skills earning her a spot as one of Negan’s personal lieutenants. She was like a loyal watchdog, always ready to shield and protect him, if any harm came along. She helped keep him and his people safe, and in return, his zero-tolerance policy for rape and sexual violence against women also guaranteed her own safety, especially in a position that caused her to be working with a group consisting mostly of men.

However, sometimes her loyalty and protection of him escalated to the point of being borderline unreasonable. Case in point, was the trip to Alexandria. When Negan had commanded Arat to kill someone in retaliation for Rosita’s actions, he hadn’t specified who to kill, instead allowing Arat to make the split-second decision. While he hadn’t shown any reaction to her shooting Olivia, he’d internally had a small flash of remorse for the bespectacled woman. She wouldn’t have been his first choice to kill, nor even his second or third. But what was done was done, and he couldn’t change it now. He could, however, take out some of his lingering regret on the woman standing in front of him.

He took her in, eyes scanning up and down her athletic figure. She wore grey pants that were a few shades lighter, and more than a few shades tighter, than his own. They showcased her long, toned thighs and calves, and her feet were covered in black combat boots. Her upper half was clad in a flowing, dark grey tank top, a black sports bra peeking out from the sides and top of it. She typically wore a baggy shirt unbuttoned over top, but must’ve taken it off sometime between 10 minutes ago and now. Without it, her lean, tan arms were visible, and Negan found himself intrigued about what was under the rest of the layers of clothing. If all went according to plan, he was sure as fuck going to find out.

Keeping his relaxed posture against the windows, he let the silence draw out for a good minute, as a way to increase the anticipation and unknown. If it threw Arat off balance, she didn’t show it, just continued to watch him steadily and wait patiently.

“I know you distrusted her for some fucking reason, but still, was it really fucking necessary to kill her?” Negan accused.

He was secretly pleased to see a small spark of confusion furrow Arat’s brow, as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. However, she quickly recovered, face schooled back to calm neutrality, as she replied, “She lied about the guns. Liars can’t be trusted.”

Negan tucked his tongue into his cheek to keep from chuckling at her response. He didn’t want her to know that he found the situation amusing…at least, not yet.

“Ah, I get it. You decided that Olivia was a liar, despite any hard evidence to fucking back you up, so you fucking shot her?”

When Arat didn’t immediately respond, Negan took a step forward and bellowed, “Answer me!”

“You gave me the order to kill someone. I picked the one that I didn’t trust.”

Though her voice was calm, her eyes had dropped to the floor at his feet. The submissive gesture caused his lips to curl up slightly on one side, and he felt his dick stir at the myriad of possibilities showcased by that one action.

“Trust…” he drawled, stepping forward again, this time circling around the side of his massive desk. “Was it really that? Or maybe…it was something else.”

Arat continued to stare down, her gaze following his boots as they approached. They didn’t stop advancing until they were right in front of her, until he was right in front of her.

“Were you fucking jealous of her?” Negan asked, his voice so close that goosebumps erupted along her bare shoulders.

“No,” Arat replied, voice still firm, but so low it was almost a whisper.

“Fucking look at me,” Negan commanded, causing Arat to jerk her gaze up to his own.

His tawny eyes blazed into her own, his face right above hers as he growled, “I don’t fucking believe you. I think you saw me showing Olivia some attention, and you didn’t fucking like it. Why else would you hold such a grudge against her?”

“I’m not jealous; I was just following orders,” Arat blurted, the rushed words an indicator that she had momentarily lost her controlled persona.

Negan let a grin cross his face at her reaction, his eyes lowering to take in her chest, which was slightly heaving with her increased breathing. Considering she hadn’t been the least bit out of breath when entering his office, it was safe to say that her reaction was due to his proximity, which was exactly what he wanted.

“Of course not, sweetheart. Let me guess, you’re just so god damn protective of me that you’d kill every woman in the vicinity, if I fucking ordered it.”

He saw a slight spark of annoyance in her gaze, when she replied, “Would it be a problem if I did?”

Instead of angering him, her comment caused him to chuckle devilishly, one of his glove-covered hands coming up to wrap around her chin tightly. His fingers and thumb pressed into her cheeks, scrunching them slightly, as he suggested, “Since you enjoy taking orders so fucking much, perhaps we should see just how far your loyalty goes.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his words, and although it was hard to tell with her caramel complexion, he swore a slight blush tinged her cheeks.

“What’ll it be, Arat,” he said, drawling her name in a way that, unknowingly to him, caused a rush of wetness between her thighs. “Do you want to leave…or stay?”

There were a few long seconds of silence, where Negan thought, perhaps, she would indeed decide to leave, before she firmly answered, “I’ll stay.”

Dropping his hand from her chin and taking a step back, Negan’s eyes twinkled with excitement, as he realized that she was willing to play…willing to submit.

“If, at any time, you want to stop, that’s all you have to say. One ‘stop’ from you, and this ends.” His lips curled up into a smirk as he chuckled, “But, something tells me you won’t be saying that anytime soon. Do you understand?”

She nodded and stated a simple, “Yes, sir,” that made his blood rush south to fill his dick. She had always followed his orders without hesitation, but now, he wanted more than that. He didn’t just want her loyalty and devotion…he wanted her submissive and begging. Not as a Savior, but as a woman.

“Strip.”

His voice was the commanding tone that he used when directing his men, only now, it had a slightly huskier quality to it, the one hint that he wasn’t unaffected by the situation. Well…that and the massive hint that was in his pants right now.

He was pleased when her hands lifted to grab her tank top without hesitation, drawing the fabric up over her head and throwing it to the side, where it landed unceremoniously on the floor. Next went the sports bra, and Negan licked his lips unconsciously at the sight of her perky breasts bouncing into view. They were topped with dusky nipples that he ached to get his hands and mouth on…but not today. Perhaps next time, he would take the time to indulge; but now, he just wanted her full submission, so that he could fuck her into next week and take the edge off the constant boner he seemed to have whenever she was around.

She toed off her boots and kicked them to the side before unbuttoning her pants and stripping the tight fabric down her legs. Negan gave a soft groan at the realization that she was wearing a black thong, her firm ass showcased for just a second as she turned to the side and tossed her pants on top of the shirt and bra already on the floor. She turned back to him, her eyes catching his and holding, as she hooked her thumbs in either side of the panties and slowly pushed them down her thighs, until they dropped to the floor on their own. She lifted one delicate foot, catching the thong on her toes and flicking it to the side, as well. She then straightened her shoulders and reassumed the same position she had been in when first entering his office, awaiting his next order.

“The hair, too,” he added, watching greedily as she reached up and pulled out the band holding her hair up in a bun. Shaking her head, the blonde-tipped dark curls fell around her face, instantly softening her features and taking her transformation to that last step from Savior to lover.

Negan stood there and drank in the sight of her naked body, starting at the top of her head and trailing down over her long neck and delectable tits. His eyes caressed the dip of her waist, curve of her hips, and the long, supple legs, topped by her delicate mound, which was covered in a thin layer of neatly-trimmed curls.

Moving forward, Negan slowly walked around Arat, as if a predator circling his prey. He was impressed when she kept her gaze forward, although he did notice the way her shoulders slightly tensed when he stopped behind her. He moved in close, so that his voice was near her ear, and the warm puffs of his breath caused the curls above her shoulder to flutter softly.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Do you enjoy following my orders?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” was the immediate reply.

“Does it make you wet?” he growled.

There was a slight hesitation this time, before she huskily replied, “Yes, Sir.”

Negan bit his lip to hold back a groan at her admission, glad that she couldn’t see his face, since it showed that he wasn’t quite as in control of his desire as he wanted her to think.

“Do you think I should check, just to be fucking sure?”

“God, yes,” she whimpered back, her body unconsciously leaning back towards him, as if searching for his touch.

Negan grinned arrogantly, pleased with her needy response. It showed that she was quickly becoming unable to maintain the calm and collected persona that she typically showcased to everyone else.

Lifting one of his gloved hands, he laid it on her waist, causing Arat to twitch slightly in surprise. The only sound in the room was her heavy breathing, as he slid his hand silently across the front of her smooth, flat stomach. She released a small gasp when he moved lower, the buttery fabric of his gloves gliding through her pubic hair and down to cup over her mound.

Negan was tall enough that he could look down over her shoulder and see his hand covering her, see the way her nipples were rock hard and her belly was trembling slightly in anticipation.

“Do you see that?” he whispered in her ear. “I’m claiming that fucking pussy as mine.”

Arat gazed down, as well, breath catching in her throat at both the sight and Negan’s words. Much as she was trying to keep it together, to not let him see just how much she wanted him to throw her up against the nearest surface and fuck her until she screamed, she was steadily losing any and all control. She had been conditioned to follow Negan’s orders without argument, but she never realized, until now, just how far that conditioning went. Or just how much she had subconsciously been craving this…had wanted him to dominate her and show her just how in charge he really was.

When she felt two leather-encased fingers part her folds and enter her dripping pussy, she cried out and stumbled. If it wasn’t for his hand on her cunt holding her steady, it was quite possible she would’ve fell to the ground in reaction to the sensations flowing through her.

Negan wrapped his other hand around her waist, to help stabilize her, as he roughly thrust his fingers in and out of her a few times before removing his hand. He lifted the fingers up in front of her face and purred, “Fucking hell, will ya look at that? That pussy fucking soaked my whole god damn hand.”

Arat was both shocked and turned on to see that he was right. Not only were the fingers he had had inside her soaked in her juices, but it had also dripped down onto his palm, staining the leather an even darker color where it was soaked through.

“Clean it off,” he demanded, bringing his hand closer to her face.

She opened her mouth obediently, and Negan stuck the same two fingers, that had just been inside her pussy, past her lips. She moaned at the taste, her essence a sweet icing to contrast with the bold tang of the leather. She swirled her tongue around the digits, sucking off as much of her pussy juice as she could, before he removed his fingers from her mouth with a soft pop.

Inspecting his fingers, he gave an approving, “Good girl,” that sent a spark of heat down her spine, and caused her cunt to clench in response.

“Let’s find out what else that sexy as fuck mouth of yours is good for,” Negan drawled, removing his other hand from her waist and walking around to stand in front of her again.

Arat slowly lifted her gaze to meet his own, her thighs pressing together to try and relieve some of the ache between them. Negan’s pupils were so dilated with desire that only a thin ring of amber was visible. He looked like a hungry jungle cat, and she found that she was more than willing to serve as his next meal.

“Kneel,” Negan growled, his tone brokering no argument.

Arat knew that, from now on, it would be impossible not to think of this moment every time he used this tone to give her orders in the future. Every time he asked her to shoot someone or scavenge a house, she was going to think of standing before him naked, his fingers soaked from her pussy and his eyes blazing a trail over her exposed flesh.

Lowering her body, so that her knees hit the concrete floor, Arat looked up at Negan submissively, ready to follow his next orders, whatever they might be.

She licked her lips when Negan’s hands moved down to unbuckle his belt. She watched, mesmerized, as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Shoving the jeans down just enough to pull out his hard cock, he stroked his hand over the impressive length. Arat’s mouth watered at the sight, but she held back, knowing that moving forward without his permission would not meet his approval.

Negan was, himself, mesmerized by the sight of Arat on her knees in front of him. He could hardly wait to get between her pretty thighs and lose himself balls deep inside, what he now knew, was a fucking tight as hell, and drenched, pussy. But first, he wanted to feel those lips on his dick.

“Open that pretty fucking mouth,” he drawled, moving his hips forward.

Arat obeyed instantly, and Negan groaned as he slowly fed her his cock, the sight of it disappearing between her full lips almost enough to bring him to his knees right alongside her. He gripped a handful of her curls, to steady her head, as he slowly pushed forward until his balls hit her chin. She struggled to take him all in, her eyes watering as he hit so deep, that she almost gagged.

Giving a throaty moan, Negan pulled back a few inches, before pressing forward again, slowly fucking her throat. Arat’s hands had instinctually came up to grab his denim-clad thighs. At first, they had pressed in slight protest, but as he slowly moved in and out of her mouth, she started to relax, as did her grip. She hadn’t expected to be so into this, to actually enjoy him using her in this way…but she did. So much, that she moaned around his dick, the vibrations causing Negan to give a harsh curse and jerk his hips a little harder against her. And when she reached up to squeeze his balls with one of her hands, the sound that came from his throat sounded suspiciously like a whine. If Arat’s mouth hadn’t been stuffed so full with cock, she would’ve smiled at the sound. He might be the one in charge, but she knew that like this, with her mouth around his dick, she momentarily had the upper hand.

Negan also realized that he was in danger of losing control of the situation, so he regrettably pulled his dick from Arat’s mouth, watching in awe as a long string of saliva hung between the tip of his cock and her tongue, before it broke away and fell to the ground.

His hand still fisted in her hair, he used it to tug her upwards while huskily grunting, “Stand up.”

The sharp sting on her scalp caused Arat to stagger quickly to her feet, giving a gasp as he jerked her head back and brought his face down right in front of her own.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he growled against her lips, causing her to shiver.

Unable to nod her head, thanks to his tight grip on her hair, she whispered, “Yes…yes, I want it.”

She felt as though the devil had just seduced her with his charm and invited her to hell…and she had eagerly accepted.

“Say it!” he demanded, his hand tightening more, and causing her to whimper with pain.

“I want you to fuck me, sir, please!” Arat pleaded. Any of the pride that had previously kept her from begging had flown out the window. Her clit was throbbing, and her cunt felt barren, begging to be filled.

Negan’s eyes scanned around the office, deciding what his next move would be. They stopped when they landed on a spot across the room, a devilish smirk crossing his face. He looked back down at Arat, his hand finally releasing her hair as he said, “Go over to the window.”

A bit confused, but willing to do whatever he asked, so long as it ended with his cock inside her, Arat walked on shaky legs around the desk and over to the large factory window. When she tried to turn around to face him, Negan barked, “No! Face the window.”

Obeying, she turned and stared at the glass, a flash of embarrassment running across her chest as she realized that she was looking down at the front lawn. There was a group of women outside, hanging wet laundry out to dry, as well as multiple guards patrolling the fences. If any of them looked up right now…

Negan’s voice suddenly appeared right behind her; she had been so focused on the scene below, that she hadn’t heard his silent approach. “That’s right, sweetheart, I’m going to fuck you right up against this window, so anybody who wants to can fucking watch.”

Those words should’ve upset her, should’ve made her protest, tell him to stop. The idea of someone seeing her like this, of risking her reputation among the men as a no-nonsense hard ass, should’ve made her want to put an end to what was happening. Instead, Arat felt her traitorous body respond, an involuntary groan falling from her throat and a new rush of wetness coating her thighs at the thought of someone seeing.

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I bet you want someone to look up and see you. Well don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll give them one hell of a fucking show.”

With that, Arat felt Negan’s body press into her back, shoving her forward until she wasn’t just standing in front of the window…she was pressed clear up against the glass. Her tits were flattened against the cool surface of the window, causing the nipples to become even harder in response. Her hands had instinctually come up to catch herself, palms flattened against the glass on either side of her head.

Negan crowded her up against the large window, his body blocking her in so that there was nowhere to run…and nowhere to hide. His cock was at her back, and the entire compound was at her front, completely oblivious of what was happening just a few stories above all of their unassuming forms.

Hands tilting her hips back and up for easier access, Negan inserted a booted foot between her own bare feet and kicked Arat’s legs so far apart that she had to lean all her weight against the glass for support. She groaned at the feel of Negan’s fingers rubbing across her slit, spreading her wetness all along her mound, and even up over the crack of her ass. The muscles in her thighs and back tensed in anticipation at the feel of the tip of his cock at her entrance…but he didn’t move.

Whimpering, she gently pushed back into Negan, a small plea for him to continue. Instead, he gave a hoarse chuckle and said, “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that, if you want this dick. Now, fucking beg for it!”

Arching her back further, so that her ass pressed harder back into him, Arat followed her leader’s command…she begged.

“Please, Negan…please, I want it so bad. I want your cock in me, I…fuck…please! Please fuck me!”

Her voice broke at the end, and Negan knew that he had succeeded in breaking through her tough exterior. Knew that she was, in this moment, completely his, and that he could do whatever he wanted to her, with no resistance.

“That’s it, Arat. Tell me how fucking much my dirty girl wants to be fucked.”

With that, he pushed forward, sliding his cock deep with one long, fast thrust. Arat cried out at the invasion, feeling herself stretch around him. It had been a while since she had fucked anyone, so there was a slight burn of pain, but it only heightened her excitement and pleasure…only solidified her pussy as his.

He didn’t give her time to adjust or catch her breath; he pulled back out steadily, before sliding back in again, starting up a rhythm that was slow, but hard…and deep. She swore she could feel his dick reach the whole way to her chest, that was how deep he went. She twitched and pressed back against him with each thrust, trying to silently encourage him to go faster, to send her up to the brink of ecstasy.

But, Negan was having none of that. His hand came down sharply, landing on her ass cheek with a crack. She cried out at the unexpected hit, the pain quickly vanishing and leaving a warm burn of pleasure in its wake.

“You fucking liked that, didn’t you? You like having that hot little ass spanked, while I slide my dick in your wet cunt,” Negan growled.

Arat moaned at his words. She should’ve been embarrassed, but his words rang too true for her to care at the moment. She did like it…no, she loved it.

“Yes, please, do it again, sir,” she whined.

A sharp cry fell from her lips as he responded with another smack, in the same exact place as before. Her pussy clenched in reaction, which caused Negan to moan and finally pick up his pace. His hips moved faster as he started to lose control, and he pushed the length of his body harder against her. Since there was nowhere left for her to go, her body pushed closer up against the glass, almost to the point of being painful. The hand, not at her hip, lifted to once more grip a handful of her hair, pushing her face forward until her cheek was smashed up against the window, his throaty voice whispering in her ear.

“See all of them down there? What do you think they’d fucking see, if they looked up here right now?”

Arat flickered her eyes downward as much as she could with her face pressed against the glass, taking in the various workers who were still down in the front yard.

“I’ll tell you what they’d fucking see,” Negan continued. “They’d see your naked tits and cunt pressed up against my office window, and they’d fucking know that you were being fucked. Hell, I bet they can see your pussy juice glistening all over my dick from way down there. And they might not be able to see it, but I bet they can imagine how tight your cunt is squeezing my big, fat dick right now. What would they think of you, hmm? Of their fearless Savior, Arat, naked and begging for my dick, crying out with those same lips that were just wrapped around my cock a few minutes ago? They wouldn’t see you as just a Savior anymore, oh no. They’d see you for what you really are…my dirty fucking girl.”

Arat, unable to find the brain cells needed to form words, moaned loudly in response. At this point, he could say anything he wanted, and she’d agree. So long as he kept thrusting his dick inside her and whispering dirty things in her ear with that sinful voice of his, he could’ve asked anything of her, anything at all, and she’d have given it to him, with no hesitation. And while that thought should’ve terrified her, instead it ramped up her desire even more, until she was whimpering and wordlessly begging him to let her come.

Negan grunted with every thrust, his balls smacking her clit as the tip of his dick hit that spot with each slide against her clenching walls. The wet, pornographic sounds of his cock fucking her drenched pussy filled the room, and Arat was certain that if it weren’t for the window and Negan’s body holding her up, she’d have been a limp pile of limbs on the floor ‘til now.

The hand at her hip glided around to her mound, his fingers zeroing in on her swollen clit. Arat keened at the feel of his leather-coated fingers rubbing fast circles on her clit, her thighs trembling at the effort of holding herself in place for his hands and cock. The hand in her hair let go, only to immediately lower and wrap long fingers around the front of her throat. He tightened his hold until she could hardly draw a breath, pulling her upper body back towards him and arching her back so that she was completely immobilized…completely dominated by him and unable to move.

Her nails scratched helplessly at the glass as she tried to get her balance, but to no avail. If she lifted either of her hands, the weight of her body would fall into his hand at her throat, completely cutting off her oxygen. Instead, she gasped in shallow breaths as he continued to fuck her relentlessly, his face looming above her own as he stared down at her intently. She saw the sweat that was beading at his forehead and running down over his temples, her head tilted back so far that she could even see his clenched jaw and the vein throbbing at the side of his throat.

He tightened his grip, that last bit on her neck, cutting off any further breaths. Instead of panicking, Arat found herself submitting. She didn’t struggle any longer, but instead relaxed into his hold, completely giving both her body and herself over to him. Right when her vision started to get blurry, and she felt light-headed from lack of oxygen, she heard his voice, which sounded as if it were speaking to her through a foggy tunnel.

“Come, Arat. Now!” Negan commanded.

He lifted the hand between her thighs before bringing his fingers down and giving her clit a hard, direct smack, at the same time that he loosened his grip on her throat.

And Arat, like the good girl that she was, obeyed.

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, knocking into her so hard that, despite his relaxed grip on her throat, she found herself unable to breathe. Her mouth opened on a silent scream as her body exploded into a million fragments all around the room. Her vision went white and her body convulsed in Negan’s tight grip, as Arat came all over his cock.

The feel of her body clenching and releasing on his dick made Negan let out a strangled moan as he reached his own peak. His hips stuttered as his cock jerked violently into her with each spurt of hot release. They both shivered and twitched as their bodies came back down from what had been the most intense orgasm either one of them had ever experienced.

They stayed like that, bodies connected, and Arat still pressed up against the window, her panted breaths fogging up the glass. When Negan finally felt able to walk without stumbling, he removed his dick from Arat, causing her to shiver at the sensation, as a mixture of both their releases trickled out of her cunt and onto the concrete floor.

Pushing herself upright with shaky hands, she slowly turned around and faced Negan, who somehow already had enough functioning brain cells to tuck his dick back in his pants. In fact, except for his zipper being undone and his belt unbuckled, he was completely dressed. He even had his gloves on, although the one was still obviously wet with a combination of her juices and saliva.

Meanwhile, Arat was completely naked, with her hair tangled around her head and cum trailing down her inner thighs. She was also certain to have a nice red handprint on her ass by tomorrow, as a reminder of what had transpired.

Uncertain what to do, or say, Arat stood there silently, watching Negan. He grinned cheekily at the sight, pleased as punch, that despite having been thoroughly dominated and fucked, Arat was still awaiting his orders. Still willing to be his loyal, good little soldier.

Walking over to the pile of her clothes on the floor, he picked them up and tossed them on top of the desk. He then walked over and picked up Lucille from where she had been leaning against a nearby wall, in full view of all the action.

Turning to Arat, he ran his tongue over his lips and looked her up and down, nodding approvingly. “I’d say we figured out that your loyalty does, indeed, go real fucking far. However, there’s still a few more…kinks, I’d like to work out before I make an executive decision regarding how well-versed you are at taking my orders. So, clean yourself up, and get your sweet ass back downstairs with the rest of the Saviors. Make sure they divvy up the goods properly, and that they don’t act like fucking dimwits about it. Understood?”

Arat nodded softly, “Yes, sir.”

He gave her a Cheshire cat grin in return, chuckling as he said, “Good girl, Arat.”

He turned and walked towards the door, opening it and making his exit. However, before closing the door, he turned and poked his head back in.

“Oh, and Arat?”

“Yes, sir?” she replied, still standing in the same spot, and still naked.

His eyes twinkled, as he purred, “I am far from done with you. Next time, remind me to fucking reward you, for following my orders so fucking well.”

And with that, he was gone; Arat could hear him whistling happily as he marched down the hall. She wasn’t sure what he classified as a reward…but it was safe to say, based on the way her clit had throbbed and nipples had tightened in response to his words, that she was more than eager to find out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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