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mostlymovieswithmax · 3 years

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Movies I watched in July

Once again I’m doing my monthly round-up of movies I’ve watched. This was a good month for the cinema getting back on track and seeing new releases including the new M. Night movie, Old and James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad. Pretty sure Marvel put out a new movie also. I’m hoping that this list can help in guiding a decision about what to watch (or what to avoid) and introduce people to movies they may otherwise not have heard of or bothered to see. These short reviews are my own subjective opinions on each individual movie and maybe a more informal approach to movie criticism can help include others who are just passing through. Here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 31st of July.

Bridesmaids (2011) - 4/10

Off to a good start. I won’t say Bridesmaids is a terrible movie but I don’t think I’m exactly the target audience. As far as I know, this is a beloved comedy but I just can’t get on board with all the boring, juvenile humour; with Maya Rudolph shitting in the street, with Rose Byrne and Kristen Wiig trying to one-up each other at a toast that went on forever, with Melissa McCarthy shitting in a sink… the conflict is so done to death and makes the movie feel unspecial. I do understand the appeal of the film, especially for women in that before this movie the likelihood of seeing something like this, where women play up the more crass and gross side of comedy, was probably few and far between. But the story is very tired and while I did appreciate some moments, namely a couple of decent jokes and some of the more intimate scenes, for the most part it felt like they wanted to corner a more quiet type of line delivery in a way that was supposed to be understated but very funny so as to not rely on over the top body language or musical cues, and it ended up being super dull.

Spectre (2015) - 7/10

As far as I can tell, a lot of people don’t like this instalment of the James Bond franchise… but I really enjoyed it! I’ve really taken a shine to these Daniel Craig-era Bond movies and while I can’t say any of them are the most amazing thing, I have a lot of fun with them. The biggest problem I have with Spectre is the villain being utterly pointless and uninteresting in basically every way. The idea of every villain Bond has fought before being tied to this one organisation controlled by this one guy is ridiculous, and what makes it worse is that the villain is barely in it! There’s so much that doesn’t come together in this but as it goes, I still had a really good time. Daniel Craig holds the whole thing together; he is excellent as 007 and the main reason I’m up for each of these movies is because of him. Sam Mendes directs again after the previous instalment and for what it’s worth I do think he does a good job with some of the action set pieces and the locations. I’m so ready for No Time To Die.

Shazam (2019) - 7/10

Shazam is a genuinely fun superhero movie that doesn’t take itself seriously at all. I was having a great time throughout and while it could conform to some of the same tropes we’re used to with these kinds of movies, it still remained playful and used the character of Shazam to his fullest potential in a way that showed an understanding of just how silly the idea of a kid who can turn into an adult and shoot lightning out of his hands is.

High School Musical (2006) - 6/10

So as you may or may not know, I co-host a podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon. It’s a film podcast and every week I get together with my other co-hosts and watch movies. For episode 38, we watched the High School Musical trilogy. This first movie blew me away. I was really surprised with just how much fun I had, and if you want to hear more of my thoughts on the film, please listen to episode 38 of the podcast.

High School Musical 2 (2007) - 4/10

We then jumped into the second and while it’s certainly not as good as its predecessor, there are still some brilliant songs that manage to top the last movie. Again, more of what I have to say can be heard on episode 38 of the podcast.

High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008) - 3/10

Senior Year was pretty hard to get through. I don’t remember it being as bad as it was, but then I didn’t really remember it anyway. It did however have one redeeming quality, which you can discover on episode 38 of the podcast.

The Piano Teacher (2001) - 9/10

What the fuuuckkkk. The Piano Teacher is horrendously affecting and I was so upset when it ended, maybe not because it’s not what I wanted but because it’s just so fucking dour and unrelenting. This is the second Haneke movie I’ve seen (after the original Funny Games) and I’m so impressed with how well executed it is. Following a woman who teaches piano, we get a glimpse into the life she lives, how sheltered she is from living with her mother at an age where you’d reasonably expect a person to be living alone or with a partner or friends (even going so far as to be sleeping in the same bed as her), and how repressed she is sexually. It’s clear she’s never experienced any kind of sexual interaction or romantic love with another person, so she goes out of her way to take control and make that happen. The upsetting nature of it comes from just what she does in pursuit of it or as a result of her repression, and what is done to her. It is by no means a movie to recommend to your parents but The Piano Teacher offers so much in terms of the ideas it presents (and I’ll admit there seems to be a lot more going on than I think I picked up on a first go round) about women in modern society, and about the portrayal of sex and expectations of people when it comes to how that is represented in a person’s character depending on their gender. I really enjoyed this movie but it is not for the faint of heart.

Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure (2011) - 1/10

My podcast co-hosts decided it’d be a right laugh to add Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure to this episode and that might have been a fun idea for them because they got to watch it together, but I was just watching it alone. Just a 24-year-old man watching Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure alone and having a miserable time, I might add. But for a short and sweet ramble on what we all thought, please listen to episode 38 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

Dr. No (1962) - 6/10

A lot of very iffy parts of this movie. A lot of discomfort arising from how black people are portrayed that really didn’t sit right with me. As far as a Bond movie goes, this first instalment in the series is one I’ve seen before and it’s not wholly engaging but it plants the seeds for the rest, with Sean Connery breathing life into the role and making an otherwise lacklustre plot bearable.

Black Widow (2021) - 6/10

I think probably the best part about Black Widow is the experience I had while watching it. It was great being back in the cinema with a couple of friends in a packed theatre. The energy was high and I’m sure for a lot of people, this is the first time they’d been to the cinema since Endgame. For what it’s worth, I did have a lot of fun with Black Widow and I’ve explained more of what I thought about the movie in episode 39 of the podcast.

The Climb (2020) - 10/10

The Climb was added to Now TV recently and I already knew I loved it, having seen it in an empty cinema theatre last year, which I had an absolute blast with. The Climb details the years of a rocky friendship told over scenes filmed as one-shots. Not only is the presentation something to gawk at, but the performances by the two leads playing these friends with a terrifically dysfunctional dynamic is truly captivating. They’re both trying to figure out their own lives and where one can come across as being rather selfish, the opposite is true in his counterpart, whom everyone loves. This is a truly funny and heartwarming movie with a lot to say about how we choose to live our lives and who we choose to be with. It’s a shame the distributors of The Climb didn’t do a very good job because if not for it being available on Now TV, it would be near impossible to watch without forking out more money than is necessary to purchase a film.

From Russia With Love (1963) - 5/10

The second Bond movie. I thought perhaps I’d change my mind on it with another watch, having seen it for the first time maybe a year ago. But no, it’s still largely boring and it treats women like absolute garbage. From Russia With Love is one of those movies I forget as I watch it, and I was trying very hard (in the middle of the day!) not to fall asleep.

The Good, The Bart, and The Loki (2021) - 1/10

I don't usually talk about the short films I watch but for this I'll make an exception. As we all should know, Disney owns The Simpsons now, through their acquisition of Fox, so, coupled with another of their properties, that being Marvel, they decided to make a six-minute animated film wherein Marvel’s Loki is stranded in Springfield. This felt as though it was a minute long due to the horrendously jarring pacing; it is a movie that feels adamant that it needs to exist, while trying as hard as it can to be over as soon as possible. It serves only to stare the audience directly in the face and say “look, characters from The Simpsons are dressed as Avengers”, shit out three credit scenes, then end before you’ve even processed the atrocity you just bore witness to.

Russian Ark (2002) - 8/10

For this next episode of the podcast, we watched a few Russian movies, starting with Russian Ark, a film shot completely in one take as the camera moves about a luxurious museum in a first-person perspective as this main character watches what is happening around him, seeing people moving about the place but unable to interact with them, guided only by another man who seems to be just slightly out of his own perception of reality. This is a tremendous feat in filmmaking and more can be heard about what I have to say in episode 39 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

Ivan’s Childhood (1962) - 7/10

For my own pick of Russian movies to discuss on the podcast, I chose the debut feature from one of my favourite directors, Andrei Tarkovsky. It’s amazing that while this is not his best film by far, Ivan’s Childhood is still such a stellar debut, jumping around in its timeline as it details a child’s experience in the second world war. Again, I do go into more depth in episode 39 of the podcast, so be sure to check that out.

Outlaw (2019) - 1/10

The third movie chosen for this marathon is apparently the fourth Russian LGBTQ+ movie ever made. I’m unsure of the ultimate goal of this movie but what seems to be clear is that it hates the LGBTQ+ community. This is perhaps the worst film we’ve discussed on the podcast to date, so listen to episode 39 to understand exactly why it’s such trash.

Almost Famous (2000) - 7/10

I too love heavy music and also studied journalism so it stands to reason that a movie about a teenager who makes his way onto a band tour, following them through America and interviewing them as they hang out and play shows is going to be a premise that resonates with me. This certainly did. I enjoyed Almost Famous a lot; this kid is living the dream and I was so along for the ride, seeing a lot of myself in what was being portrayed. That said, the story itself is at times a bit by the numbers and I really would’ve been more on board if the visual component was more interesting. For what it is, technically it’s fine enough but nothing in that department ever jumped out at me.

Minari (2021) - 8/10

It’s crazy that this didn’t get a theatrical run where I live in the UK. It feels as though I complain about film distribution all the time but I really don’t understand the process by which a movie gets no cinematic release and yet, months later will pop up on the front shelf of hmv, taking pride of place. But of course I got the blu-ray straight away. Minari has a lot to say about the immigrant experience, specifically in America as a family comes over from Korea and tries to start a business and make something of themselves. You get to see a lot of what you might not think twice about when you think about immigration: the hardship of coming from a place where you know everyone to somewhere rural and sparsely populated, having to make friends with locals and integrate within the community; the strain it can put on a family and on a marriage where this idea is presented about the importance of making it on your own in order to live and not just survive, while also taking into account why you’re doing it in the first place and the value you place on being part of a family that you decided to make because that was more important than money, than economy, than proving you were good enough to make it in a place that gave you very little advantage from the offset. This concept of the promised land, of the American dream is a construct. There are times when it’s not pretty, when you have no running water, or you’re in debt, or a family member is dying and it just feels like you’ve been dealt as bad a hand as you can get. But it is better to know you’re not facing all that alone.

Roma (2018) - 10/10

This was my recommendation for the podcast episode on Alfonso Cuarón movies. Roma is as beautiful as it is heart-wrenching and I would recommend listening to episode 40 of the podcast to find out more about my thoughts.

An American Werewolf In London (1981) - 8/10

In all fairness, London is enough to make anyone a little crazy at the best of times. An American Werewolf in London showcases some fantastically grotesque effects, akin to something like Carpenter’s The Thing, in showing the dead brought back to life and a horrifically gory transformation scene. Although the film is from the perspective of an American protagonist, directed also by an American, the depiction of British culture and climate is something I’ve not seen many films pull off quite so well, and I was pleasantly surprised at the more comedic tone the film has overall, which is something that works more in its favour than straight horror would.

The Party’s Just Beginning (2018) - 6/10

Karen Gillan’s directorial debut is… pretty good! There are a lot of ideas I like in this movie: a woman living life and through convenient circumstances, is confronted with death in many ways. Gillan obviously knows her homeland as well as she can, imbuing the whole thing with an intensely Scottish vibe (though maybe not in the same vein as something like Trainspotting) that makes it a bit more unique than a more run of the mill movie of this ilk, backed up in no small part by her own main performance. The plot itself is no great diversion from the kind of story I’m used to with these smaller movies and for something that’s trying to include messaging about transgender issues and suicide, it probably could have been handled better or done in a different way.

Solaris (1972) - 9/10

Another Tarkovsky joint, one I thought I’d revisit to see if there was indeed more to get out of it a second time. Well, it’s no surprise that yes, there was certainly more to get out of it. Solaris is a crazy trip of a movie and I would liken it to Kubrick’s 2001 in terms of how grand the scale of it feels. Yet this is a film that comes across as deeply personal, choosing to focus on a specific character as he goes to a space station to help those on board who are experiencing some kind of emotional crises, only to feel the effects of the planet, Solaris invading his own mind as it has the crew. To many, I can see this lengthy Russian sci-fi being a tad slow but my personal experience is one of deep engagement. Solaris pulls its viewer in a lot of different directions and it is always doing something unexpected in terms of where its narrative goes. There’s a lot to think about with the movie and thankfully it’s no chore to watch again.

Y Tu Mamá También (2001) - 9/10

Another recommendation for the podcast episode on Alfonso Cuarón movies. This is a very relaxed experience, following three young people as they go on a road trip, visit different places and have sex. Listen to episode 40 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast for more of my thoughts.

Children of Men (2006) - 10/10

My favourite Cuarón movie, one that never stops being tense as its characters are constantly moving towards the end goal. Set in a future where humans are infertile, the oldest living person is 18, and London is the last city in the world that’s still keeping it together, somewhat. This is masterclass filmmaking. Listen to episode 40 of the podcast for more insights.

Minority Report (2002) - 5/10

I’m really not the biggest fan of Spielberg… Minority Report is an interesting movie in terms of its concept of stopping crimes before they happen by way of prediction, but I just didn’t connect with the heart of it. The colouring is way too overexposed in a way that’s supposed to be eliciting a futuristic vibe but instead feels so early-2000’s in the worst way. My biggest problem with Minority Report is just how long it is, clocking in at two hours and twenty-five minutes which allows for a lot of meandering, all while never quite developing characters enough for you to care about.

Caché (2005) - 9/10

Oh god! Another Michael Haneke movie! Here we see a couple periodically sent video tapes featuring hours of footage of the outside of their house. The anxiety ratchets up and the mystery gets deeper with every minute. There’s always at least one moment in any of his films that have so far made me realise just how out of my depth I am. Caché is no exception, and I won’t spoil anything here because I think it’s better just to watch the movie and see for yourself. He is a director that wants the audience to know something and that something is never what is explicitly shown at face value; it is pressed into the fabric of the film - plainly evident, yet hidden. Caché is so stupidly clever in displaying its themes and messaging - making reference to the Siene Massacre of 1961 as well as a deeper study of colonialism - and there’s no way to change a single detail of it without risking the Jenga tower crumbling to the ground. It all works in tandem. It is passion and fury and haunting.

Coco (2017) - 7/10

Pixar had a string of around seven forgettable movies before this point so thankfully Coco emerged to show the company still had something good in them. Coco deals a lot with themes of death and legacy, remembering those who are gone in order to preserve them and while its plotting is quite basic and there are certainly moments that either drag or cannot escape the same Pixar formula, most of what the movie has to offer is a lot of fun, with creative, colourful animation and emotional beats that resonate the way they’re supposed to.

Incredibles 2 (2018) - 5/10

Oh, they almost had it! There's a lot here that could have been explored in far more interesting ways. Setting Incredibles 2 directly after the events of the first movie was not a good idea. If it had taken place five or ten years after, the characters could have been in different places in life and it would feel as though they'd actually changed and developed. But instead of trying to be a film that actually cares about its characters and the journeys they go on, a lot of the film is wrestling with the idea that Bob isn't supportive of his wife and Jack-Jack has to fight a raccoon… They have to shoehorn in a villain that in no way compares to the genius of the original. The ending of the original introduces another antagonist that gets wrapped up within this film's first ten minutes, except they don't catch him and he's never mentioned again. It's a real shame because the animation is fantastic and the acting is superb and there are great ideas sprinkled throughout. It just doesn't come together.

Toy Story 4 (2019) - 6/10

I was rather reluctant to watch Toy Story 4 because from the get-go I’m not really here for sequels being made just for the sake of it. Everyone loves Toy Story and making another one is a sure fire way to make money. This is the first time I’ve seen Toy Story 4 and for what it’s worth, I did enjoy it. The animation is immaculate and that alone feels like a huge flex from Pixar who tend to step up the game when it comes to animation in film, despite not having the best track record for films generally at this point. While it was nice to see these characters again, I found a lot of them to be side-lined (namely Buzz) in favour of a story that focuses mainly or entirely on Woody, who I just don’t like as much as in the previous movies. Generally the movie is good and decent enough but there’s no real antagonist and the plot is quite loose… it doesn’t feel as though it needed to be made from a story point of view.

Onward (2020) - 6/10

And with that I have seen every Pixar movie. And Onward is a fine one to go out on. While I don’t think it compares to the likes of earlier Pixar it’s still pretty fun. Or maybe I’m just a sucker for a medieval setting filled with bright colours and magic! Speaking of which, the animation was super and the medieval quest element is something that hooked me with the film. Again, plot-wise it does feel very familiar and I don’t know, maybe I’m past the point now of expecting Pixar to mix it up where their formula for story-telling is concerned but the movie is quite predictable. Nonetheless, while I’m not rushing back to see Onward I would hardly turn it off or refuse if someone wanted to watch it.

Old (2021) - 3/10

Oh boy! New M. Night movie dropped and my word, was it fun! For more of my thoughts on this… masterpiece (?) of a movie, please direct your attention to episode 41 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

T2 Trainspotting (2017) - 5/10

Trainspotting is perhaps one of my favourite movies and I had never bothered with the sequel, 20 years on, because the ending of that first movie is so conclusive. T2 felt more an excuse for these guys to get together again and in that, I probably would have preferred a couple of pictures on Twitter of the main cast and director, Danny Boyle having dinner or something. This is a fine movie - very arty in its presentation but meandering and dull in its story that doesn’t offer much in the way of proof that it had to exist.

Taste of Cherry (1997) - 9/10

What makes life worth living? This is a central question and theme of Taste of Cherry, and one that leaves such interpretation not only up to its central character but to the viewer as well. This film got me thinking about times in my life when I truly have had no answer to hard questions. Because it’s hard to convince people of things they are so adamantly against and harder still to rationalise what you believe if you’re not even entirely sure why you believe it in the first place. We are all of us alive and in recognising that, does that make it precious? And if indeed living is not a happy thing, why then should we fight so hard to preserve it? I felt upset as I watched this movie because I’ve been asked these kinds of questions before and it makes me feel stupid when I’m unable to answer. But the only real answer I can give is, everything. And if you can’t see the point then you’re not looking hard enough. Taste of Cherry is beautiful in its exploration of these topics and in its overall presentation, offering some of the best visuals in any movie I’ve seen - fitting for a feature with so much to say about the beauty of life - and an ending that as much pulls the rug out from under you as it does pull you out of the dark and make you realise just how lonely you’ve felt.

Bones (2001) - 2/10

Snoop Dogg is Jimmy Bones! This film is super funny but I’m not sure it’s trying to be and I really didn’t love it overall. But I do talk more in depth about it in episode 41 of the podcast.

The Duchess (2008) - 5/10

Another recommendation for the podcast. The Duchess was pretty much exactly what I thought it was going to be and there’s a lot to like about it but generally it’s a bit sparse. For more chat on the movie, listen to episode 41 of the podcast.

The Man With One Red Shoe (1985) - 1/10

This was another one for the podcast and man, was it awful. We had to watch it at 1.5x speed towards the end because it just wasn’t getting finished otherwise. To find out more, make sure to listen to episode 41 of the podcast.

The Emperor’s New Groove (2000) - 7/10

Pull the lever, Kronk! Haha! Slays me. I do quite miss this era of Disney, where the animation was hand-drawn and the stories were actually compelling and funny. The Emperor’s New Groove is vibrant, it’s got great characters and memorable moments that will forever be ingrained in the memory of culture. All in all, it’s just a solid flick that doesn’t waste time, developing the standard fall from glory type of arc but smoothly and in an entertaining way.

The Suicide Squad (2021) - 8/10

Oh, bloody hell! They actually made a good one! The Suicide Squad is not only better than the ‘Suicide Squad’ of 2016 in every way, it’s a genuinely great film! This time, James Gunn (director of Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy movies) is at the helm and it seems clear that Warner Bros. basically let him do what he wanted with the movie, as it doesn’t seem to bog itself down with the restrictions of a more family-friendly rating. The result of this is a far cleaner, colourful film with a clearer vision that takes from early Vietnam movies and uses that style to craft a superhero/villain movie that differentiates itself among the copious amount of existing films of the genre. The Suicide Squad wastes very little time, introducing fun, crazy characters we’ve not seen on the big screen before and isn’t worried about killing a whole bunch of them, with standouts being Elba’s Bloodsport, Melchior’s Ratcatcher 2, Stallone’s King Shark (expertly rendered with fantastic visual effects), and Robbie’s returning interpretation of Harley Quinn. A lot of Gunn’s trademark sense of humour is laced throughout and more often than not, it hits. The audience at the cinema were truly loving this movie and I’ll admit, I was right there with them. This mix of the gritty, gory and absurd is not something that should work as well as it does but the basic premise of the film is already so silly (and boy, do they know it) that it just works! Certainly one of the best DC movies since The Dark Knight and one I’d be more than happy to watch again. This is what the modern comic book movie should be: just balls to the wall fun!

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cherry-draws · 3 years

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[Master Kohga x Reader] Fantasy Night

Warning : this One-Shot contains sensuality, but not sexual scenes or violence.

Here is my first x Reader text, I'm not fond of this kind of litterature so I decided to do one in my way. I hope you'll enjoy it, do not hesitate to leave me a comment if you have any question or suggestion !

It had been a while since you joined the yiga clan, and you had gotten used to it faster than you thought. Contrary to what rumors might suggest, it didn't sound so much like a cult, although headed by a leader, you were more like family. As a simple yiga footsoldier, you spent your days on a mission, roaming the endless and verdant plains of Hyrule. Fearing that you would be reprimanded if you came home empty-handed, you often made arrangements to bring back food or rupies. During your days off, you liked to alternate rest time and activities with your circle of friends.

That evening, a party was organized to celebrate an achievement: your clan had managed to steal the Thunder Helm, a sacred relic belonging to a people living in a distant city in the desert. It was a unique object, allowing protection against lightning, and which could be resold at a high price.

Some members, whith coocking habilities, had been busy preparing multitudes of banana-based dishes: pancakes, fruit chutneys, salads, cakes, etc.

Everyone was gathered, including your leader, Master Kohga, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.

The party had dragged on until late at night, and while most of the members had gone to bed, the more reckless ended up dozing off in the kitchen.

You were part of it, except you weren't asleep, you were pretending. You glanced fondly at a sleeping footsoldier in the arms of an officer. It didn't surprise you, indeed, you had suspected them of feeling an attraction to each other for some time.

You too were secretly attracted to someone from your clan. Lying on your side, your head resting on your left arm, your right leg drawn back to your chest, you watched in silence, almost holding your breath. You hadn't told anyone about it, you did everything to show nothing. The truth is, you weren't interested in the slim, skinny bodies of your fellow underlings, nor did you look at the sturdy, muscular figures of the officers, who tended to impress you. No, the one you were interested in, was him.

Kohga was different on this point. He had generous shapes, and that's what appealed to you.

You took a certain pleasure in watching him as he slept, full, his back leaning against the wall, his chin tucked slightly towards his chest. Those slender arms, that flat chest, that round belly, those broad thighs ... How many times had you wanted to get closer and curl up against his body, how many times had you hoped for a brief physical contact? Still, you didn't feel like you had romantic feelings, it turned out mostly to be respect mixed with fascination. You were just physically attracted to him, and you considered it guilty pleasure. Of course, everyone in the clan thought Kohga was charismatic, but did everyone else feel the same? A part of you was telling yourself that it wasn't normal to be attracted to this type of physique, that you shouldn't think of such things to your leader, but you quickly pushed the idea out of your mind. . You especially wanted to take advantage of this moment to watch it with impunity, while you gradually let yourself fall asleep.

Some kinds of complaints pulled you out of your drowsiness, you tried to ignore them at first, but their persistence prevented you from going back to sleep. Intrigued by their provenance, you stood up awkwardly, leaning on your hands and shook your head. Once you woke up, you realized Kohga was no longer sleeping. He was standing in a position of some discomfort and moaning loudly, which made you feel worried.

"M-Master Kohga ... is everything okay?" Are you hurt?

-Yes, I think .... that I am a victim of indigestion ... I should never have eaten so much tonight ...》

Looking around the surroundings, you realized that you were completely alone, the last members had probably ended up going to bed. You think for a few seconds about what to do.

“Um ... I think you'd be better in your bed. I ... if you wish, I can take you in your bedroom.

-Impossible, I can't even ... get up ... I'm going to stay here until it's over. Do not worry about me. You can go to sleep ... ah, ouch!”

Seeing him bend over in pain, for the first time since you joined the clan, you refused to obey. Your instinct seemed to take over your reason, and your body began to act on its own.You knelt down and grabbed his left hand in your hands, then your eyes met. Your heartbeat quickened slightly as you felt a new sensation run through your body. This physical contact, that you dreamed of so much had just happened, and you saw your chance to get closer.

"Sorry. I cannot leave if you are not feeling well. Let me heal you. I know a method, I know how to practice a kind of massage ... if it doesn't work, I will go and tell the others. Please.

-I'm really in pain ... do what you want but do not stay there doing nothing, it's an order!

-Shhh ... Calm down. All I need is you to relax and let me go. I promise you'll feel better soon. "

The impulses, which you tried to hide from the eyes of others since the day they manifested themselves, were felt more and more. At this point, you had no other choice but to let them express themselves.

The next moment you were leaning over Kohga, your face barely three feet from his, massaging his belly. Your hands were back and forth in circular movements, your thin fingers tapped lightly or bent back from time to time. You could easily feel his skin stretched through the fabrics, you weren't content just to contemplate his curves, now you could touch them. You had to restrain yourself to not undo his belts. Could you afford it? Was he going to let you do it without showing opposition ? Did you just wanted to keep its from hurting, or was it just to give yourself more freedom? On the other hand, you liked to see those bands of leather tightening more and more against his flesh, and seeing them burst due to pressure would probably not have displeased you. Your right leg came to rest between his, as you gently pressed your face against his stomach, kissing it.

Yoou didn't even knew if you were taking care of your leader, or if you let your fantasies taking life. The feeling of desire that burned deep in your being had now changed to an indescribable pleasure. You were alone, Kohga offered no resistance, and this was perhaps your one and only opportunity to gain access to this bulky body. In all your life, you had never felt so good, so relaxed, so free.

A whisper from him brought you back to reality for a brief moment. Intrigued, you leaned forward, almost lying beside him.

“I feel better, the pain has eased ... I think I'll be able to go back to sleep now.

-If you don't mind, I would like to stay by your side for the night. If you ever feel bad again, I would like to be sure that I can intervene quickly.

-Well, if you want to and if that can reassure you, okay. You just have to lie down here.

-Thank you. Rest Master Kogha, I will watch over you. "

After a long time devoted to this massage, you end up snuggling up against his body. You leaned your head against his chest, resting your right leg against his thick thighs, and hugged his plump belly with your slender arm. His steady heartbeat and barely audible breathing calmed you. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder, which made you shiver slightly, but gave you a sense of security. Regardless of whether he made the gesture consciously or not, you could finally sleep peacefully.

Entwined.

When you woke up, you weren't sure where you were anymore. When your eye got used to the brightness of the room, you realized that you were completely alone in the kitchen. You got up slowly feeling as though you had slept wonderfully. Then everything suddenly comes back to you. You looked your way, walking nervously through the hallway. What if everything you've been through was nothing but the fruit of a fantasy? If this really happened, what were the consequences going to be? What would happen if Master Kohga realized what you had done? Lost in your thoughts, you heard a voice calling you.

"Hey, oh, Y / N, what are you doing, are you daydreaming?"

-Who me ? Oh uh excuse me Mahy, I was lost in my thoughts, what were you telling me?

-In fact, I need you to do me a favor. We were about to get ready for the day when several members started complaining about having a stomach ache, some even didn't want to get up. It hurts me seeing them like this, so I decided to prepare a medecine to relieve them. I would like you to boil some water, during that time I will check if there are any herbs left in the storeroom.

-Of course, you can count on me! "

You picked up an abandoned torch that you brought up to a lighted candelabra before returning with a determined step towards the kitchen and lighting the fire under the container. Finally, you poured in a generous amount of water and knelt down while waiting for Mahy to return. If you were focused on your task, in your head, everything was jostling. The fact that some of your comrades were also sick indicated that what you had not dreamed. Of course, you didn't regret what hhappened, but you feared possible consequences. You heard the quick and lively footsteps of your friend coming towards you. She appeared, her arms laden with grass.

“The harvest was good ! We're going to boil this for a few minutes and it'll be good. Thanks for your help anyway.

-That's not much. "

After filling the bottles with still boiling herbal tea, you headed for the dormitories. You walked back, still preoccupied with the events, hoping no one noticed anything. Once you got to the rooms, you stopped.

"Hello Mahy, hello Y / N, there you are finally. I decided to give you a day off for today, since most of the soldiers are sick. But I want it to be a lesson to you, next time avoid stuffing yourselves like boboklins!

-Do not worry about that Master Kohga, we have prepared herbal tea, soon everything would be nothing else but a bad memory!

-Well, I see we have two young doctors in our clan, that's good news! Y / N, when you're done, I'd like to talk to you.

-You can go now, I can take care of the distribution by myself, you have already helped me a lot.

-M… Thank you, Mahy. "

Anxious, you started to follow your leader. You walked hesitantly, apprehensively, holding your hands nervously. You took the opportunity to discreetly contemplate his back, remembering that last night, you snuggled up against this thick body. Once away from the rest of the group, he stopped and turned in his direction. You straighten up, standing straight, as if you were about to receive an order.

"Y / N, yesterday, I fell asleep before I had time to thank you, that's why I summoned you. You stayed awake for a long time just to heal me. So ... thank you for everything you've done.

-Oh uh ... if it was just that ... it's nothing, I couldn't sit back and do nothing. By the way, I wanted to ask you ... I ... did I hurt you yesterday? I'm not used to massages so I wondered. "

-Hey? But not at all, it makes me feel way better, as a proof the pain is gone. Looks like you've been doing this for years! Besides, why don't you practice this technique on our members, it would cure them ? Or then, there is only the strong, the burly, the one, the only, the Master Kogha, who deserved this ? "

There was silence for several long seconds. Then he burst out laughing.

“Mwahahahaha! I'm kidding, don't worry ! Now you can go. "

You left the room feeling happy, light, peaceful, as if you had relieved your conscience. You could now enjoy your day, and think back to that night without feeling guilty.

#fanfiction #fanfic #tloz breath of the wild #breath of the wild #botw yiga #botw fanfiction #one shot #yiga clan #master kohga #kohga #english translation #x reader #my fanfiction #fantasy night

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

Dumbass got stabbed III

I really thought I had finished with this two shot but after a request from @/booksrlife300 on ao3 asking for the aftermath I really couldn't resist making it a three shot. And my writing demon certainly agreed because it really went wild during my plane ride.

Anyway here is part three (and i think the final part) to dumbass got stabbed.

Recap (since it's been over a year):

Percy gets stabbed by a monster after coming back from the movies with his friends and the first place he goes to is Jason's house. Jason nearly has a heart attack after Percy collapses on his door and then he pulls him inside and stitches him all up.

This fic starts with Percy waking up the next morning.

[image has alt text]

Percy wakes up to searing pain. It spills across his skin like an upturned sowing box. He doesn't know where it's coming from because it feels like it's coming from everywhere. He can't even take stock of his body because he feels like one big pincushion. He supposes being stabbed makes him a pincushion.

He doesn't want to open his eyes. He can feel the light behind them. Too bright. Too loud. Too not how he feels.

He feels like deep darkness. Like the darkness just before a star explodes. The darkness before the sky erupts. The kind that blankets all of his senses except the one that pings danger. That's red and wailing at him. But then pain so untamed it turns his vision orange lances across his side and his eyes snap open with a low howl.

He can see white ceiling. He can see black dots. He hears scrambling, clothes rustling and something falling over. And then he can see blue eyes. And then he can see skies and oceans and glass bottles and concern like mothering hens staring down at him.

"Percy," His name is a growled gasp. Sleep still clinging to the strings of his friends voice box, scratching it's way down his throat.

"Hello, I'm in immense pain." Vaguely he notes that he sounds like an automated machine relaying it's faulty inner workings. That's half how he feels now that the burning-orange pain has lessened to a caution-yellow.

"Here," A golden hand, fingers wrapped in individual bandages, long and racing with green veins, holds out a square to him. It is small and unassuming. Nobody would guess it holds the food of gods. Then again nobody would guess those gods existed.

His mouth feels as though he's been eating his clothes for sustenance the last week. All heavy tongue, dry saliva glands, and teeth too smudgy to be healthy. He considers turning the square away for some toothpaste and a glass of water. But neither of those are going to magically cure the wound marking his side. So he opens his mouth, his jaw, and let's Jason drop the square onto his tongue. Warm fingers brush his lips as they pull back and he wants to chase the lightning-blue zing that they leave behind against his sarcastic mouth.

Instead he snaps himself shut and chews slowly. Only half interested in the cookies, then brownies, then soda— which he somehow knows is blue— disappears down his throat. He feels the magic working through his veins, skin stitching itself together. A headache he didn't know he had disappates.

With a long exhale he relaxes back against cotton cushions and finally takes a good look around the room. He has every detail of it already memorised, having spent many a day and night in this position bothering his friend endlessly. There's the singular shelf that houses old trinkets tattered and bruised from years of moving; the single arrow from Thalia's set— given in protection and as a reminder that she would always be there, for real this time; there's the gaudy new York taxi keyring he had given the blonde, now without the ring part, so of no real use; and the snow globe from Piper when she visited Paris. The soft yellow wall— lemon drizzle if you want to get specific— sits in perfect contrast to the charcoal grey of the rest of the room. It sort of embodies Jason's whole presence. The desk, well used and scattered with books and paper and Chinese takeout containers, sits in the corner opposite the bedroom, right near the window. He says if he can see the city he can breathe a little easier. He knows what he's working towards. Percy thinks it's so he can see the sky and know there's always a way to escape.

Him and Jason are good at that. Escaping. From bad situations, from big feelings, from each other. There's always something left unsaid between them. It drives their friends mad, but it's all they can do to stop from becoming hurricanes and devouring the entire universe.

"How are you feeling?" The blonde is sitting in his swivelly squeaky desk chair, leaning over him with all sense of care and concern. It makes him feel like duck egg blue.

"Much better thank you." He attempts a grin. He hopes it's not a grimace. "No matter how many times I get stabbed it doesn't seem to hrut any less."

Jason narrows his eyes, "I wonder why."

See that's what Percy likes. Everyone else is always giving him disapproving looks and worried scoldings when he says things like that but Jason? Jason indulges him, makes it feel not so suffocating to always be injured and bruised and relying on little squares of God-food to get him through the month.

"How do I look?" This time it's definitely a grin. He can feel the green of his eyes go emerald with amusement.

"Very pretty as always." The reply is solemn, but there's a twitch of pink lips and it's all he can do to not reach over and touch it.

"Want to tell me what happened?" A frown replaces the amusement and he wants to rewind the last few seconds again and again. "You were a little...out of it when you showed up."

"Yes I suppose getting attacked by a monster makes all the smart chemicals in my brain go a little foamy."

"You don't know what attacked you?"

And he is pinned to the bed, to the room, to the world. Because nobody can read the words behind his words the way Jason can. Can read the emotion behind his pauses and the expressions behind his masks. He is neon purple.

"It was dark." He resigns himself to the story. When he's done, laid all the boring details bare, he studies the floors.

The silence stretches around them, cocooning them into something too delicate to touch. It feels almost awkward, or it would if he knew anything about that when he was here. Instead it's just quiet.

"Can you stand? You need a shower."

"Oof Jase," He puts a hand to his chest, hurt painted like clown's make up falling across his face. "I can't look that bad."

There's a precious smirk, full of quick whips kicking up in his friend. "It's the way you smell actually."

He takes an exaggerated whiff and nearly gags. "I smell like I'm decaying." He shudders.

A laugh bursts from the blonde and Percy doesn't want to move in case the music ends. He feels candy floss pink in that moment.

"Right up you get. I'll sort out breakfast and then you can entertain me for the day."

"You don't have to take care of me." He rolls his eyes, sitting up with a hidden wince. His feet settle on the floor. He's grateful neither of them acknowledge that he came here in a haze. That Jason did take care of him. That when his mind was nothing but blinding pain this was the first place his legs took him.

"I'm not taking care of you. I'm using you for entertainment."

What his friend doesn't realise is that Percy can read all his hidden scripture just as well. How "entertain me" means I'm keeping an eye on you. How "mind helping me with this" means I can do it just fine by myself but I want company. How winks mean "it's a joke between us" but smirks mean "it's honesty but gently". It warms his heart to know he can do this. It's a sunshine yellow thing to know someone the way they know each other.

"You good?" Jason stops at the door when he still hasn't moved from the bed.

"Yes just preparing to haul my very large body into your very small shower." He feels the eye roll more than see it. It tugs a smile onto his face.

"I'll remind you that I'm an even larger body and I make it work."

"How on earth do you ever have shower—"

"Percy Jackson!" He is snapped into a laugh.

And then he's in the bathroom and his mouth is full of mint bubbles and although there are circles as deep purple as squished plums under his eyes they shine with contentness. He doesn't fear or worry. Not here. At home, in his mother's house, he's the protector from monsters only he can decimate. At camp he is the protector from monsters that are determined to destroy. But here. He is just Percy. And his protector is cooking pancakes in the kitchen. He is just Percy. And he is sage green as he steps into the steam of the shower.

He looks down, catching the fading wound on his abdomen. His brown skin let's droplets of water rest briefly before rippling and they go racing down to the tiled floor. He stands there for a good minute just staring blankly. But then he hears the sound of a kettle whistling and it jolts him into action as he scrubs the grime and gross of yet another something trying to kill him, off his body.

By the time he's done— sweats and a loose tee rummaged from Jason's closet draping over his too hot skin— the pancakes are neatly stacked on two plates and fresh steaming coffee sits to the right of their food. He feels honey brown.

"Looks delicious."

"I know the way to your heart." The blonde shrugs.

"It's more of a journey than most bargain for." He laughs quietly.

"Dont worry I've brought my hacksaw and my hiking boots I'm willing to run through Amazonian forests."

"Well that's relieving," He grins around his mug. "I was beginning to think I'd be stranded in my stone tower forever."

"All alone?"

He snorts, "No I've made friends with all manner of being. I can't be alone, you know that." He bites into his pancake, blueberry slipping off his fork with a thudding splash into the syrup.

"I do know." The blonde's voice is all buttery and melting. And the truth that comes with it knocks a new vein into Percy's heart.

They're quiet for a few minutes as they devour their breakfast. When there's mere sips of coffee left he settles back in his chair and regards his friend.

"What manner of entertainment am I providing today?"

"Whatever you want but I'm not leaving the house."

"Oh good I don't know if I can make it ten steps out your door without half crumbling to dust these days."

"You wouldn't."

"Mhmm," He hums distractedly, gaging the weather to decide if they're going to huddle up with movies and far too many blankets or throw playing cards at each other while drowning in lemonade. It's a movie sort of day, he decides.

"You wouldn't turn to dust." Jason is saying. "You're too much god and too much good to die like monsters." There is that silent reading again.

"Maybe I was." Percy shrugs, "Before you know..."

And he doesn't need to add anymore because the big space the catches onto that sentence no matter how much time separates those events from the now still means the same thing. Before Tartarus. Before he made a ventriloquist puppet out of a goddess. Before he became unhinged.

"You are not a monster for protecting yourself. Or others." Golden voice is firm. Solid.

"You may be the only one who knows and thinks that."

"Doesn't matter it's still true."

"Okay enough seriousness." He doesn't have the energy for their circling conversation. "Shall we binge Pirates of the Caribbean?" For a stormy grey second he thinks his friend is going to keep their talk going but then he sees the surrender behind the blue eyes and a part of him unwinds.

"We can." There's a raised eyebrow accompanying the agreement and he knows there's conditions attached. Like a damn insurance plan. "If your promise to let me walk you home this evening."

"My big bad wolf." He teases.

The blonde responds with a low growl that makes his whole body turn a violent azure blue. "Fine. We shall stare at Captain Jack Sparrow and then you can valiantly walk me to my front door and shake hands with my mother."

"Wonderful. Now let's get some blankets down."

Jason smiles as he stretches on his tiptoes to reach the fluffy ones. He feels the soft material under his palm but the there's a hand over his brown one and it's tugging the blanket down. He sticks his tongue out at his friend.

Percy is ocean blue.

#Dumbass got stabbed #Part 3 #PJJG fanfic #PJJG series #Percy jackson #Jason grace #Jercy

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH43

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 43: Star Death Reality Show (XXVI)

Just like watching a poor lamb trapped in a hunter's snare, wailing would not arouse the compassion of a seasoned hunter. On the contrary, the hunter would only be excited about the delicious food dying.

Looking at Qi Leren who had been struck by lightning, Su He said faintly, "I know many ways to avoid contracts, but it’s not easy to do. Most of the methods are one-off skills or items, or there is an extremely long cooldown time. Even if you don't have one… It’s best to be careful."

Qi Leren gawked at Su He, as if he had been drained of all his strength. He didn't say a word for a long time, and his lowered head did not show anger. Only his eyelashes were shaking, as if he was almost unable to bear such a failure, and he was crying.

This long silence was not ridiculous, but sad.

It was like watching a gambler at the end of his rope, piling up all the chips on the gambling table and then losing everything.

Everything that followed seemed to be a mechanical repetition. Qi Leren once again signed his name on the parchment with no facial expression, and the signed letters were distorted by his shaking. At the moment when he put down his pen, his spine seemed to be knocked out section by section, slumping on his chair and silently watching the sunrise.

A rising sun that would never rise.

"Can I leave now?" Qi Leren asked softly, looking deeply tired.

"Anytime, but I suggest you stay a little longer or even get some sleep. Anyway, I have adjusted the time flow rate in this area for you, so you won’t be delayed too long." Su He, like a considerate friend who fully thought of him, gave him friendly advice.

But Qi Leren didn't want to stay any longer. He was willing to face the monster in the institute, and didn't want to face Su He. So he stood up, and the chair rudely dragged a harsh sound across the ground.

"I'm leaving," Qi Leren said stubbornly, his tone carrying the anger of being deceived.

"If you insist, go ahead." Su He wasn’t reluctant, anyway. His purpose had been achieved.

The Witch of Lust looked at Qi Leren curiously, because his attitude was disrespectful. As a native devil accustomed to the hierarchical atmosphere of the underworld, she didn't quite understand the relationships between human beings. Sometimes a worm could say "no" to an elephant, which was really interesting in her eyes.

To be fair, Su He was not a strict leader. If the object of comparison was the Devil of Power who had a strong desire to control, then he was an easygoing boss. If you wanted to compare him with the Devil of Slaughter, then he was a perfect boss—at least he wouldn't go crazy and dare to kill anyone, leaving him in his current state of lying half-dead under lava. The Devil of Fraud was quite tolerant of his subordinates, sometimes even almost deliberately indulgent towards them. He seldom pointed out your mistakes, but every time you made a mistake, he would remember it, but he would not show it. This attitude made people feel that he didn't care about them. This slightly malicious indulgence contributed to the weakness and self-deception in human nature, and he watched and waited with great interest until you finally crossed the boundaries he set for you...

Then you would find that you had lost everything. Even if you knelt at his feet and kissed the tips of his shoes and begged him to give you another chance, he wouldn't look at you again.

This extreme gentleness and extreme coldness combined to form a contradictory and complicated person. The witches favored him and feared him. Even the Witch of Lust, who was famous for her debauchery, was much more disciplined in front of him. At least when she appeared in front of Su He, she would pick clothes from her closet that didn’t show her off. When Su He told her to dress properly to entertain guests, she would always find a dress that wrapped her from head to foot. However, in order to express her dissatisfaction, she didn't mind expressing her protest in a small way by means of excessive obedience. Her boss didn't care about this level of protest.

He was really unpredictable sometimes.

She had thought that trying to deceive the Devil of Fraud would make people lose his favor and even irritate him, but Su He's reaction was just the opposite. It seemed that he had added ten points in his heart to this audacious human being.

The Witch of Lust yawned a little and watched the poor man hesitate by the chair. She looked at Su He's face and asked politely, "Shall I take you out, baby?"

"Thank you," Qi Leren, who was worried about how to leave, said quickly.

Su He’s left hand on the armrest of the chair supported his cheek. He asked without warning, "Who gave you the necklace around your neck?"

Qi Leren's cold sweat came back again. In these past few minutes in the field, he had experienced great ups and downs, and his nerves were over-stressed. He had become a frightened bird. He was just glad that he had successfully crossed the border, and he was ready to keep this state and leave quickly. Who knew that Su He would come out with something else?

Fortunately, Su He hadn't found it.

He hadn't found that when he signed his name for the first time, he hadn't used any skill cards at all.

No, he hadn't.

He had made a wonderful deduction—he had successfully deceived Su He once, using an item of unknown origin as the laptop. So this time, under almost the same precondition, would Su He still fall for it? Would he believe that he had honestly signed the contract and was ready to fulfill it? He was not an obedient man in Su He’s eyes.

The best way to dispel Su He's doubts was to make him feel that he had seen through him, expose him personally, watch him suffer, despair, and collapse, and then watch him give in.

So he had had a bold plan, and he had decided to take a gamble. Then he had succeeded.

He was so ecstatic that he had to lower his head to hide his inner secret and fanatical joy and let that passion explode as fireworks in his heart.

However, he also had to consider that this decision would bring him great risks in the future—when he was really raised to a half-field, how should he explain it to Su He?

This concern slightly diluted the excited mood, and even the last resort was shattered by Su He’s sudden question, which made Qi Leren tremble with fear.

"This aura... It’s the Prophet’s?" Su He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Qi Leren did not say yes, nor did he say no. He asked, "Do you know the Prophet?"　　

As if they could never talk well, Su He also threw out a rhetorical question: "Don't you think that the Village of Dawn is too similar to the Village of Dusk?"

Qi Leren was stupefied. So, it turned out that this field was not a "field that imitates the scenery of the Village of Dawn" as Su He had once said, but was the real Village of Dawn.

But if the Village of Dawn was a field, then the Village of Dusk...

Qi Leren suddenly understood. The Prophet who slept beneath the Courthouse and spent most of his time in the cold ice pool, it turned out that he had been silently supporting the Village of Dawn that sheltered mankind. As a player, he did not know how to escape the sanctions of time. He had even spent more than 20 years completing compulsory tasks, and had survived to this day.

"A naive idealist inherited Maria's will, created a box of time with the belief of protecting, and fixed the newly established refuge under dusk forever. His original force was 'time'. Originally, he was the one most likely to evade mission sanctions, if he had not lost to the box." Su He's expression was full of compassion and tenderness.

The Prophet’s original force? Qi Leren seemed to understand. He knew that some of the higher demons had original forces, such as jealousy, lust, despair... They were getting stronger and stronger while approaching the original force. At the level of the three Devil Kings, they had almost merged with the original force.

But did the Prophet, a field-level human being, also have his own original force?

His force, was it time?

Qi Leren's heart was full of curiosity and doubt, but Su He had no intention to solve his doubts: "Go, don't challenge your limits with your life, you’ll never know what kind of miracle you will create. Although 99.9% of people end up dead through this process, I sincerely hope that you are the exception, because I have some expectations for you.

"Qi Leren, today's adventure is only the first step. I am waiting for the day when you complete the transformation," Su He said.

The beautiful Village of Dawn began to become blurred, and even Su He's voice gradually drifted away, as if separated by a dream.

When Qi Leren came to his senses, he still stood in the corridor on the lowest level of the institute, and only a few seconds had passed.

It was the fourth day of the game... No, the zero hour had passed, and it was the fifth day. He didn't know if the army’s ship could arrive. He had reason to suspect that it wouldn't come too quickly. After all, the rescue was always late after all the problems were solved.

Su He said that he had released the octopus in the underground glacier, which was definitely more difficult than the ones he had encountered before. He needed to upgrade his equipment, such as finding a rocket launcher like what Mark had used against him.

This was in the institute’s armoury, but Qi Leren hadn’t taken it since he hadn’t expected to use it. He decided to double back and look for it. In addition, we should find a NPC that was still alive, and take them to the instrument that could detect whether they had become a host, and he hoped to meet Dr. Lu and Du Yue along the way...

Qi Leren returned to the stairs and began to go up. When he passed the power room, he went in again, restarted the power supply, and restored power to the whole underground research institute.

With the light, he was feeling much better. Qi Leren finally recovered from the frightening meeting just now, stopped thinking about Su He, and absorbed himself in preparing for the next challenge. According to game logic, there must be a restock of supplies before the war. Unfortunately, the copy world did not necessarily come according to game logic, so he had to rely on himself. He didn't want to rush unprepared into that horrible boss battle.

Suddenly there was a noise in the corner of the power distribution room. Qi Leren suddenly looked towards it and raised the gun in his hand, shouting, "Who?"

"...It's me." He Yi stood up. His condition looked worse than before. He was emaciated and almost withered. "Mark came in, I met him!"

Qi Leren was taken aback and realized that what he said was in reference to when Qi Leren had wanted to leave the institute through the laser corridor before, but He Yi, who had made an agreement with him to cut off the power supply, did not cut off the power in time—because at that time, Mark had moved the debris in Annie's basement and had entered the institute to attack He Yi.

"I’ve taken care of him, and Annie, Xue Jiahui, and Francis; all four of them were parasitized," Qi Leren said calmly.

He Yi looked at him in astonishment: "How did you do it?"

If it weren't for the enemy at present, Qi Leren would still use the rhetoric of "an apostle of God" to fool him. Unfortunately, now that his Prophet's Heart skill was cooling down, he didn't need to continue acting. He simply said: "It's a long story. Let's talk about it when we have time. Right now we’re in danger..."

"I know." He Yi leaned wearily against the wall and smiled bitterly. "It’s come out."

"What?" Qi Leren became nervous.

"That monster..." He Yi looked desperately at the ceiling above his head, as if he were an outlaw being chased by troops behind the cliff ahead, and murmured in a low voice, "We can't escape."

"Do you... Do you know something?" Qi Leren finally asked the question that lingered in his mind.

For a long time, He Yi's attitude had been a bit strange. Qi Leren hadn't thought much at first, but with the discovery of the plot, he had to face up to this problem—He Yi, he was an insider.

"Why is there an amphioctopus here? Why did I happen to find a basement when I was kidnapped by Mark? Why am I able to blow up the access to the research institute accurately but I am safe and sound? Why can this institute’s power supply, which has been off for many years, still be used? Why do I know where there are weapons and how to use the equipment? Have you thought about these questions?" He Yi asked, one question after another.

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Editor’s Notes: To clarify, the “forces” mentioned in this chapter are along the line of forces of nature but on a more human scale, ie. the “forces” the witches and demons have as their titles. A closer translation would have been to use “power”, but I wanted to make sure it was distinct since “power” is already used in several other contexts in this novel.

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ultimatetornshipper · 3 years

Text

Daminette December Day 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

((Note: If you’re a confused little muffin who saw our ship in the top 100 list and you want to know what in the ever loving fuck we are, feel free to dm me or mention me in a post or even to send an ask. do be warned tho that if u send me hate i will block and report u (and not just to tumblr, to everyone I know who is part of this fandom). our little sub fandom is not a toxic space and no one is allowed to make it one or there will be a fucking war))

And we’re back to our anxiety induced in denial Damian. I love this kid. Tho I do wanna make him slightly more… how do I say this… like cold? I dunno maybe I can bring that in with other people and his interactions. I just wanna write him with his proper grammar and what not and like lbh this boi is already a simp for Mari. But I don’t wanna let things happen too quickly, y’know?

Anyway, maybe I should make the theme of this chapter the fact that he has absolutely no chill. Lmao, I think that’s hilarious ngl. Also I’m just gonna pretend certain things existed back then for the sake of my sanity I can’t keep coming up with words that make sense for explaining what a thing is without saying the actual word because it didn’t exist yet. The hologram in that one chapter was hard enough bruh

Ok here we go, thanks for reading! I hope u enjoy it

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 7 – Chill

Damian rolled the ring between his fingers as the morning light filtered through his windows. She’d put the choice in his hands, it was a kind thing to do, smart too. It made sense, if this role was as important as she made it sound it needed someone who could commit to it.

The miraculous was the kind of black that seemed to stretch on forever. It had a bright green paw print on it. He hadn’t put it on yet but from what he could gather it’s kwami would appear as soon as he put it on.

He'd be one of the leaders of an entire Order. He had no idea how big it was. His mother had raised him to lead but that was an entirely different organization. How would Marinette react to that? Could he handle the responsibility?

These thoughts had been plaguing him from the moment he picked up the ring.

But that wasn’t what got to him the most. She was just so… good. She had even agreed to move her entire court to Gotham for his sake. To uproot her entire life and move everyone involved just so that he could stay with his family.

There had to be a catch.

There always is.

He sighed, overthinking everything wasn’t going to help him make this decision.

There was only one thing he could do.

He put on the ring and a bright light caught him off guard. A small floating cat like being appeared in front of him.

“Kid?” he kept his eyes closed as though he didn’t want to see who was in front of him, his voice breaking slightly.

Slowly, the kwami – Plagg if he remembered correctly - opened his eyes. Damian stared at him as disappointment flitted across the creature’s face.

He lifted his brow and asked, “Hope to see someone else, Plagg?”

He chuckled slightly, sadness lacing the sound, “My previous holder, thought maybe I'd get the chance to say goodbye this time,”

Damian frowned, “What do you mean?”

Plagg frowned, “You don’t know about my previous holder? Who gave you my miraculous?”

“Marinette did,” he said, simply, “She actually just gave me the chance to consider the offer of the position, I have the rest of the day to get to know you and make my decision,”

Plagg seemed to consider what he said, he then sat down on the bed in front of Damian. He explained the basics of the miraculous to him, the phrases he needed to use as well as what those phrases would do. The things he’d need as well as what behaviors he might pick up.

“Purring?” Damian said in a disbelieving voice, “You’re telling me I might start purring in my civilian form?”

Plagg cackled, “Yeah, don’t worry it’s not that bad,”

“Tt, what exactly is the purpose of it? In fact what exactly is my purpose? It seems like she has the leadership thing under control,”

Plagg seemed to sober up at the question, he flew up right in front of Damian’s face and looked him in the eyes, “Her job is to lead and look after her court,” his look sharpened and he narrowed his eyes, “Your job is to look after her, your job is to protect her, your job is to see her. Your purpose is to make hers as easy as possible. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll have other official responsibilities and you will rule alongside her, but your real job? Your purpose? You have to help her remember that she’s only human and that that’s okay,”

Damian stared at Plagg, the kwami stared back. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? There had to be something. Some kind of catch.

Before he could grill the kwami, Dick burst into his room.

Damian could see his brother’s clear panic and immediately stood. Dick’s eyes found his, “She’s gone,”

Damian felt himself spiral, memories flew through his mind. All the times he or any of his siblings had been taken. Cass didn’t speak for a month after the last incident. Jason’s “secret" panic attacks had increased tremendously. Tim stayed up for nights on end, only sleeping when he passed out. Damian sparred for hours and hours, hating the feeling of being useless.

His father and Dick weren’t in Gotham at the time and Selina was helping Harley with one of her ‘projects’.

When they got Steph back after a week, she was so shook up that she kept waking up screaming from nightmares for months.

They all blamed themselves.

“Her kwami showed us a letter she left but someone could’ve faked it to buy time, they’re searching the village,” Jason said, coming into his room, holding a piece of parchment.

Damian barely registered the way Plagg seemed to study his reactions. They needed to find her, it was already afternoon, who knows how far gone she could be?

They spent hours scouring the castle. Before he knew it the moon was rising and they were all gathered in the living room, going over possibilities.

“I’m going to go get Alfred and Bruce, this has been going on long enough, it’s time to call in back up. It’s already passed nightfall and she’s not back yet,” Dick walked out of the room, barely two seconds passed before he shouted something to them, “Guys I found her!”

They were out quicker than a lightning bolt. He ignored his siblings as they all flocked around her. He took her in.

She was wearing a cloak, which Jason quickly took and gave to a passing maid. She wore one of her black dresses. Her hair was in a braid.

But the cloak was dirty, the dress had tears and the braid was messy.

But it was her eyes that got him. The blue irises looked like someone had taken every drop of sadness in the world and left it in them. They were red rimmed and puffy and there were black bags under them.

She’d been crying and she hadn’t slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Somewhere along the line, they moved back into the living room. Cass was sitting next to Marinette on the couch and the others were arguing.

Damian couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was here. She was safe. She wasn’t taken.

Cass tapped his arm, he turned to look at her and she started signing. (a/n ok yeah I know that sign language might not have existed but do I really care?)

Get her out of here, she’s tired, Cass signed.

Damian nodded and after asking her permission and scolding his siblings, he escorted her to her room.

Plagg whispered something to her that he couldn’t hear.

Then she apologized for scaring him and he explained his thought process. She explained that he would’ve been able to know via their miraculous whether she was in trouble or not. He made a mental note to ask Plagg more about that.

When they got to her room he opened her door. She was about to go in but he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked at him expectantly. He searched her gaze, he had so much he wanted to ask her, why she’d been crying was at the top of that list.

But she looked so tired, and Damian just couldn’t get himself to form the words. Instead he bid her goodnight and went back to the living room where his siblings were waiting.

All eyes turned to him when he entered. He didn’t know what to say. Instead of thinking his words through he blurted out the first thing he thought.

“She didn’t flinch when our eyes met,” he said. They all stared at him for a few seconds. Usually they would’ve laughed at his bluntness, Damian is certain, but there was something about the haunted look on her face that sapped all humor out of the situation.

Jason was crouched in front of the fire. Stephanie sat on one of the chairs while Dick leaned against its armrest. Damian was next to Cassandra on the couch and the five of them sat in silence.

Millions of questions danced through the air, the answers all just out of reach.

Little did they know that they weren’t the only ones with questions.

Outside, three pairs of eyes were watching the oblivious siblings closely.

Damian felt a chill go down his spine and turned towards the window. He walked over and stared out into the forest, he didn’t see anyone but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave him.

He closed the curtains.

The smallest of the three chuckled slightly, “She got herself a paranoid one, huh?”

“We need to head back,” the only guy out of the three said to the others.

They nodded and followed him deeper into the forest.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette @f-rget-lt @fusser90

#daminette december #daminette #utp writes #well would u look at that #me actually following a prompt pretty well #it's gonna snow in Egypt #does it snow in Egypt? i dunno man #anyway here's protective batsiblings again #sad plagg my poor baby #Damian's pov after basically ignoring him for a chapter #Bruce and Alfred weren't involved because plot #also antagonist?? do we smell a bad guy?? or am i a troll?? i guess we'll find out later because even I don't know lmao #mari was just chilling in a field and they all freaked tf out. can't say i blame em thoo #maribat #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #medieval au #are my chapter lengths inconsistent and completely random depending on my mood and amount of inspiration? yes definitely #batman #mlb #mlb crossover #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #Jason gets panic attacks but he tries to hide it fight me #also anyone else worried about how mari will interact with the fam she hasn't met yet? cus i am ngl still gotta figure that whole parade ou #thanks for reading #hope yall enjoyed~#also I just saw maribat made the top 100 lmao confusing the everloving fuck out of people is my jam #i hope we don't get hate we've been a pretty non-toxic fandom up until this point like srsly man we're nice don't hate us

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jarienn972 · 3 years

Text

Weathering the Storm - Part Four

For a multitude of reasons, it has been ages since I've been able to update this story. I had the chapter all plotted out, but never seemed to be able to find time (or sometimes just motivation) to write. I appreciate those who reached out to me asking if I planned to update it and I thank you so much for your patience! I absolutely plan to finish it and right now, there are 2 more planned chapters to close everything out.

For now though, since it has been a few months, here’s a quick recap of where we left off in the last chapter: Emma braved the elements to investigate the abandoned Sheriff cruiser, and after seeing the dashcam video, knows that her husband is injured after the disastrous traffic stop. She's made the assumption that Killian would try to make his way to the closest dwelling to the lonely stretch of highway - Zelena's farmhouse. We're going to pick up at that same farmhouse as the unrelenting thunderstorm continues.

If you’d like to catch up from the beginning, you can find all of the current chapters on FF.net and AO3. Tumblr: Part One Part Two Part Three

Despite the warm glow from the flickering orange and gold flames in the fireplace behind her chair, the lingering dreariness of the day was wearing heavily on Zelena's mood. The sky was still laden with dull, grey clouds unleashing unholy torrents of rain upon the farmhouse's metal roof and continuous gusts of wind threatened to blow away the fluttering blue tarp which was only barely protecting them from the elements.

Oh, what she wouldn't have given right now if she could still possess the ability to poof them all away from this isolated outpost deep in the forest. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty and rammed that beat up old jalopy of hers into the Black Fairy. She wasn't particularly good at driving the beast but perhaps she could have managed to get into town… Oh, heavens...who was she kidding? In this weather, she wouldn't have made it to the end of the drive, and anyway, the ugly, metal death-trap was still sitting on a lot in town, rusting away as it awaited repairs. It hadn't been a high priority to fix when she'd had electricity and a working telephone to call Regina who'd pop in with supplies and whatever if she needed a hand with something. If she couldn't solve the problem with magic from a distance, she'd drive out to help her sister and niece, but she certainly couldn't do that right now.

At least, she could be thankful for the simple fact that Robin would sleep through almost anything when she had a full tummy. She couldn't recall the exact time she'd put her daughter down for her afternoon nap, but she estimated that it had been about an hour and a half, meaning her child was going to awaken soon and Zelena would have to figure out a way to entertain a cranky toddler in a dark, drafty house. For now though, the exasperated mom was enjoying the quiet reprieve from this stress-filled day before Robin was awake and wanting to play ,and then Zelena would also have to figure a way to keep the baby from bothering their guest.

Their guest.

How long had it been now since Hook showed up sopping wet on her doorstep? Two hours? Closer to three? Surely Emma would have realized that something was amiss if she'd not heard from her husband by now. How long might it take before someone realized that he was lying on her sofa right at this very moment? He was still semi-peacefully slumbering after taking a swig of the children's pain reliever which might have taken enough of the edge off to allow him to rest - or he'd just passed out from sheer agony and exhaustion.

Either way, she tried to distract herself with a little bit of reading by the firelight. The dancing flames cast odd shadows across the pages making the text difficult to see at times, but then she wasn't fully paying attention to the prose before her. She could scarcely recall a thing she'd read from the prior chapter, much less the last paragraph. She just needed something - anything - to keep her weary mind occupied during this brief reprieve. She was going bloody stir crazy, even beginning to believe she was hearing things that weren't there. She'd swear she just heard something rapping on the kitchen window, but quickly dismissed the thought, figuring it was just the swirling wind rattling the creaky door.

Until she was certain that she heard the sound of her name being called over the howling of the storm.

**********

Emma had briefly considered poofing herself right into the center of Zelena's kitchen, but decided against it at the last second, instead materializing from a cloud of pale grey smoke on the front porch instead. While she was somewhat protected from the storm by the narrow extension of the roof, rain water poured over the eaves in sheets. Considering that the gravel driveway leading up from the road had morphed into a shallow, muddy lake, the porch was relatively dry in comparison, although Emma wasn't certain just how protected she was from Mother Nature's fury when a bolt of lightning lit up the darkened skies. The tin roof above her head probably wasn't the safest right now…

She took a long stride closer to the door, wiping away some condensation from the glass with her sleeve as she peered through the window. She couldn't make out much inside the empty kitchen as it was fairly dark with a faint orangish glow in the distance. Zelena probably had a fire burning to provide some light and heat to stave off the chills with the power still out. She couldn't hear any voices emanating from the interior of the house, but it was possible that the noise of the rain striking the metal roof was drowning out any sounds from inside. But in the dim backlight provided by the firelight, Emma could make out a dark mass draped around the back of one of the ladderback chairs - a shape that looked decidedly like the collar and shoulders of a coat. A dark coat that had enough of a sheen on its surface to reflect the warm hue of the flames. Just like a certain black leather coat that her husband had been wearing when he departed for the station this morning.

Please, let that be Killian's coat, she begged of whatever higher power might be listening as she knocked anxiously on the window. Not noticing any movement inside the farmhouse, she rapped again, but this time on the wooden door instead of the glass as her sight fell upon a ruddy stain upon the white paint. Was that blood?

"Zelena?" she shouted, hoping that her voice would carry louder than her knocking. "Zelena? Are you in there?" Well, that was a stupid question...Of course she had to be inside. Most people wouldn't leave home with a fire still burning and where exactly would she go? Even if she'd managed to get her crappy car running, there was no way she would have made it into town in this downpour. She probably wouldn't have reached the end of the driveway… "Zelena!" she cried out even louder this time.

Seeing the familiar hue of the former witch's wild auburn hair through the steamed up glass, Emma's nerves abated momentarily and she let out a relieved exhale as the door was yanked open.

"Emma?" a startled Zelena muttered as she found the drenched, blonde sheriff standing at her doorstep, but her mood instantly lifted. "I am so happy to see you! I was hoping that you'd soon figure out your husband came here to seek help."

"Thank goodness. There weren't many places he could have gone, so I was really hoping he made it here. He recorded the whole thing on the dashcam, so I know he was shot. Is he alright?" Emma tried to keep her nerves in check, but as she rambled on, she knew she was failing miserably.

"He's in on the sofa. He's sleeping right now. Well, at least I think he's sleeping… He's been in and out of consciousness," Zelena explained as she waved Emma inside. Emma brushed past the redhead who closed the door quickly before the wind blew any more of the never-ending precipitation into the kitchen. Zelena continued detailing all she'd done to help, even though she doubted Emma heard half of it. "I've tried my best to get the bleeding under control. It isn't near as heavy as it was before, but he still lost a lot. The bullet that hit him went clean through and I don't think anything too vital was struck, but I really don't know for certain. He's still a bloody mess and a bit feverish. I tried giving him some of Robin's baby ibuprofen to help with the pain too, but I don't have a bloody clue how well that worked..."

Half-listening as she rounded the corner into the living room, Emma made a bee-line over to the sofa where she discovered her husband curled on his side with a woolen blanket draped over him. Even with the golden glow cast by the flames, his skin bore a deathly pallor. "Oh, Killian…," she sighed as she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him. She cupped her palm around his cheek, finding it cool and clammy beneath the warmth of her fingers. A muted, but guttural moan escaped his throat as he stirred at her touch. He blinked twice in the low light but as his sight adjusted, his eyelids parted fully to focus on the unexpected, but magnificent face of his true love.

"Swan?" he mumbled, his muddled brain trying to determine if she was real or just a cruel hallucination.

"It's me," Emma smiled, happy to find him conscious and communicative. "I'm here and I'm going to get you help…"

"Now that you can heal him, it'll all be fine," Zelena spoke up. "I would have already done that if I still had my magic, but now Emma can get you all fixed up," she gave a nod to Killian but the expression that crossed Emma's face confused her.

"Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple…," Emma groaned in frustration. "Because this situation involved criminals from outside of Storybrooke, I had to have David notify the state police and put out a bulletin to watch for the vehicle. They'll have questions about the shooting, and if the deputy who they can see being shot on dashcam footage is suddenly, miraculously healed, those questions are going to get uncomfortable and weird and cast doubt on the whole thing. I don't even think that saying Killian was wearing a bulletproof vest would hold up under the circumstances…"

"So, what does that mean?" Zelena questioned.

"I'll have to get him back to Whale - transport him directly to the hospital…"

Emma was cut off mid-sentence as the storm unleashed a tremendous gust of wind that blasted through the broken window, billowing out the tarp until the nails could no longer hold and the resulting gush extinguished the fire. Swirls of raindrops, leaves and other debris were forced through the opening as the tarp floundered and flopped about the floor. Without a moment's hesitation, she spun around and raised her hands. In a split-second, a magical wave of bright light filled the room, vanquishing the tarp and all of the storm debris as it repaired the damaged window, restoring it to its original state like its twin further down the living room wall.

Zelena breathed a sigh of relief as the threat of further damage subsided for the time being, even though the room was plunged into darkness without the flames illuminating it. She wasn't going to miss that ugly plastic sheet, nor would she miss the drafts and rainwater that seeped in around its edges.

"Thank you for fixing that awful eyesore," Zelena said as Robin let out a terrified wail after being awakened by all of the commotion. "I'm coming, my love," she assured her daughter but she also gave Emma a quizzical look before heading over to the play yard. "Do you think you're going to have to explain that one?" she asked Emma with a gesture towards the repaired window.

"Hopefully, it won't come to it, but I suppose I'll think of something, if necessary," Emma replied as she turned her attention back to her wounded husband while Zelena scooped up a whimpering toddler. "Okay, one crisis averted," she whispered as she gently squeezed her husband's bicep through the blanket. "Let's get you into town so we can get you fixed up too."

Killian gave a weak nod and allowed his eyes to fall closed again as he steeled himself for teleportation, never knowing how rough the landing may be when they re-materialized. The commonplace of magical transport was something this grizzled mariner was still getting used to.

"Take us with you," Zelena interrupted. Unprepared for such a request, Emma glanced upward into the pleading eyes of the redhead who was still bouncing a teary-eyed toddler on her hip.

"What?" Emma stammered, her brow knitted in confusion. Had she heard that right?

"Please… Will you transport us there with you? I promise, we will be out of your way as soon as we get there. I'll call Regina to come pick us up, but I can't stay isolated out here in this bloody storm with no power and no way to get in touch with anyone. I hate not having magic anymore… I don't want to be a bother, but please…?"

"Um...sure, I guess," Emma responded. "For everything you've done for Killian today, I suppose it's the least I could do."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" the former witch gushed. "Let me grab Robin's things. I'll be less than a minute!" She scurried into the bedroom to collect Robin's diaper bag as well as a jacket for each of them, then quickly darted into the kitchen to grab the baby's pre-made evening bottle, which the little one eyed greedily as they returned to the living room. Her final task was to toss a pitcher of water onto the smoldering remnants of the fire to ensure it was completely out before they vacated the farmhouse. Returning to Emma's side, Zelena gave her daughter a tight hug and exclaimed: "All ready."

"Then off to Storybrooke Hospital we go," Emma stated, swishing her wrist before the magical cloud enveloped them.

#cs ff #cs fan fic #captain swan ff #killian whump #weathering the storm #gunshot wound #i know this update has been long delayed and is a little short #but i needed to break it there

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 7)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: descriptions of vomiting, borderline nsfw, a hobbit reference, fluff as always

words: 4.3k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: y’all are gonna think these bad things didn’t happen but like. tour straight from hell or something. anyways! a few chapters left, and then this baby is done. I’M SORRY THIS IS A BEEFY CHAPTER IT’S IMPORTANT FOR PLOT STUFF kinda. hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

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“As long as I don’t have to room with Pagey over here, I’m fine with anything.”

“Hey! Bonzo, come on!”

“What? You snore.”

Touching down in Detroit, the band drives down to the hotel, set on a good night’s sleep before a crucial performance. Stuck in the lobby, jetlag slowing their movements as their eyes drift shut briefly, they attempt to sort out the rooms for their stay. With three rooms available, the five of them work out who gets the coveted single room.

“I think Jimmy and Robert should take a room together: everyone already thinks they’re together anyways. I’ll take the solo room.”

Robert squawks in surprise, which turns into a full-blown coughing fit, as he nearly doubles at the waist from the force. Layla brings a hand to his back, rubbing a soothing circle into the fabric of his light shirt. How he wasn’t shivering in the face of Detroit in January was beyond her. The coughing finally ceases, and Robert sucks in a breath, breathing ragged from the strain.

“Are you alright, Robert?”

“Of course, little dove,” Robert answers, patting the hand that now rests on his shoulder. “My throat is just a tad dry, I bet.”

“Okay…”

“If you don’t mind,” Robert moves toward the sitting area behind them, casting a hand out dramatically to show it off, as though it were the height of luxury. “I’ll be over here, resting my weary legs.”

With a puzzled glance towards Robert, the group continues bickering.

“Jonesy, you know Jimmy’s gonna want to room with his petal,” Bonzo says, emphasizing the nickname, and Layla didn't even need to see his face to detect the smirk that was surely playing on his lips. “Robert can room with you, so I can have the solo room.”

“Excuse me, do we not get a say in this?” Jimmy asks, hands gesticulating wildly as he speaks. His cheeks are suspiciously flushed, as if he was embarrassed by Bonzo’s teasing. He’d never admit it, but the pink flooding his cheeks serves as evidence.

“Nope.” Jonesy and Bonzo reply in unison.

Robert, uncharacteristically silent, slithers up behind them, standing from his post on the comfortable lobby chair. Spotted by the concierge at the front desk, he puts a long finger up to his lips, and sticks a hand towards the solo room key that rests on the counter. Snatching it up with practiced ease, Robert smirks, and walks carefully back to his seat. Layla, casting an eye over the remaining keys, notices the disappearance, and locks eyes with the rest of the band.

“Guys… Where’d the solo key go?”

“What?”

“It was— It was just here!”

“Well,” Robert stretches as he stands, unfurling his long limbs. Raising his hand, the stolen key dangling from it like precious, golden treasure, he steps backwards jauntily. “I had better get to my room, now. It’s been lovely chatting.”

With that, he’s off, scrambling for the elevators, leaving his friends in the dust. Bonzo and Jonesy share a glance, and lunge for a key, walking away from the couple, who look after them with wide eyes.

“Do I really snore that bad?”

“I mean…”

“I’m injured, that means you can’t be mean to me.”

“Since when has that stopped me? Also,” Layla pauses, turning to Jimmy, unconsciously taking his hand in her own. “You took a pill before we left the venue, right? You’re not in pain?”

“I took one, but… I’ll be fine.”

“Jimmy—”

“Come now, let’s go find our room.” The guitarist pulls her towards him, resting an arm across her shoulder as they walk to the elevator. Idle chatter follows as they walk to their shared room. Unlocking the door, Jimmy pulls it open, to discover a finely furnished room, with a sitting area accented by maple wood. The blinds were pulled back to reveal a view of downtown Detroit, dark sky bringing the city to life. The only thing out of place, however, was the bed. A single, queen-sized bed, clothed in a tan comforter, sat in the middle of the room. The couple glance at each other, and, finding the other looking right back, force their eyes elsewhere. Layla, fishing a pair of pyjamas out of her suitcase, moves to the bathroom to change into the ensemble: a pair of grey shorts, and an old threadbare t-shirt, at least two sizes too big. Walking out of the ensuite, her eyes fall upon Jimmy, laying on one side of the large bed, dressed in green plaid pajama pants, and a soft cotton top. His head turns as he hears the woman approach, and he gives her a sweet smile. Layla climbs into the bed, turning to face him.

“You look cozy.” Jimmy says, nudging her lightly as she laughs.

“As do you. I would’ve expected you to be dressed in a black satin ensemble, if I’m being honest.”

The laugh that flies out past Jimmy’s cupid’s bow lips warms Layla to the core, and she can’t help but slide closer to the man.

“And why is that?”

“Your image, it’s just very… mysterious. It’s a good thing I know the truth, now,” She leans closer to him, slotting her head into the junction of his neck, resting on his shoulder. “You’re just a softie.”

“You’d be surprised, petal.”

“I’m sure.”

As they drift off, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeat, they can’t help but feel at home. Their arms wrap around each other, legs tangling together as they sleep soundly.

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The morning sun bright against her eyelids, Layla nuzzles further into Jimmy, black hair tickling her nose. All is tranquil, until a deep rumble pierces the fragile silence: her stomach. Layla extricates herself from Jimmy’s lax grip, and changes into a colourful button-up, tucked into a pair of dark flared jeans. Intent on taking the hotel up on their offer of a continental breakfast, she rushes down to the lobby. It’s when she passes the men’s restroom on the main floor, that she hears it. A groan, muffled through the closed door. This is followed by harsh dry-heave, as if someone had been throwing up.

“Uh… Excuse me, sir, ” She knocks on the door, hoping that whoever was in there could hear her voice. “Are you… okay in there?” Seconds pass, until a familiar voice breaks the tense silence.

“...Layla?”

“Robert?”

“Fancy…” A gasp stops him in his tracks as he chokes once more. Layla can imagine the scene: Robert kneeling on the floor, face pressed to the cool tiles, whatever he had in his stomach lost to the porcelain throne. Finally recovered, he tries again. “Fancy meeting you here, little dove.”

“Robert, I’m coming in.”

Opening the door, she’s met with an unpleasant smell, and the sight of blonde curls falling across hunched shoulders. Kneeling down beside the sick man, she puts a hand to his back, the other rushing to hold his hair back. He puts a hand on her thigh, the only part of her he could reach in that particular position, and gives it a light squeeze in thanks. A few seconds pass as Robert coughs out some more, until, spent, he sits back against the wall of the tiny stall he had run into.

“Are you okay, now? What happened?”

“I was… hankering for some breakfast, maybe a spot of tea, and I got halfway through a helping of eggs,” Robert explains, leaning his head on Layla’s shoulder, exhaustion lining his tan face. Somehow, he had kept his hair out of the way before she had gotten there, and it was as lush and as soft as ever. “When my stomach decided, ‘maybe eggs aren’t the best choice for today.’”

“Were you feeling like this yesterday?”

“Had a cough yesterday, wasn’t feeling sick, though. Must be a simple flu.” Layla maneuvers to place a hand on the man’s forehead, which feels as though it may just scorch her palm.

“Robert, you’re burning up!”

“I’m okay, little dove.”

“What is with you boys and saying you’re fine, when you’re clearly not?”

“It’s a habit…” Robert trails off, head slipping lower, chin touching his chest. He’s about to pass out, eyelashes fluttering gold under the harsh restroom lights, when Layla nudges him.

“I’m up, I’m up…”

“Robert, I need to go get you some help. Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Layla sits up, just about to get to her feet when an overly warm hand grabs hers.

“Layla, don’t go…”

“Robert,” she starts, running a soft hand through his unruly curls. The singer melts into her side, eyes drooping. “I’ve gotta get someone. Please, just… stay here. Do not move.”

She jumps to her feet, rushing out of the bathroom in search of someone that can help. Turning the corner hastily, she nearly runs into Peter, who had been making his way to breakfast, Bonzo at his side. Stopping the men in their tracks with a hand held out in front of her, Layla relays the situation.

“Guys, Robert’s got the flu, and he’s been throwing up,” Layla points to the bathroom sheltering the blond in question, and turns back to the two men, who look frazzled by her rambling. “Please, can you get him up to his room? I’m gonna get him some Gatorade, something to help hydrate him.”

Immediately, Layla’s eyes widen at the slip, though the men think nothing of it, passing her with a nod and scurrying into the bathroom to retrieve the singer. Walking to the vending machine in the lobby, Layla places a number of loose coins, dug up from the depths of her jean pockets, into the slot and punches the button painted with the design of a lightning bolt. The machine rumbles, and Layla soon holds in her hand a can, labelled ‘Gatorade’. Huh, she thinks, it seems that some things remain the same after all.

Dashing to Robert’s room, she finds him tucked into his bed, bare-chested. Layla sets the drink down, sitting on the edge of the man’s bed. Her fingers begin to thread through his hair once more, and he stirs.

“Layla?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Rob.”

“Isn’t… Isn’t Jimmy gonna be jealous?”

“Go to sleep, Plant. You’ll be okay.”

“But…”

The woman shushes him, and he relaxes into her touch, drifting off finally. Layla stays, guarding the man, until he wakes up. The Gatorade sitting on the bedside table goes warm, Layla too preoccupied with the bedridden blond.

----------

Layla, leaving the sick vocalist in Peter’s capable hands, walks out of the room with a yawn. He should be okay, though the same might not be true for his voice. If she thought it had been a little hoarse yesterday, it was nothing compared to when he had awoken. Thoughts occupied, she had almost walked right into Jonesy, who had just turned the corner. Layla startles at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, and looks up into Jonesy’s eyes.

“Sorry, Jonesy. Guess I was a little distracted.”

“No worries. Is Robert okay? Bonzo just told me.”

Layla looks towards the closed door of Robert’s room, scratching the back of her neck. Turning back to Jonesy, she nods, smiling at the bassist.

“He should be okay, yeah. His voice might be a little rough, and he’s got a bit of a fever, but it’ll pass.”

“That's great to hear! Oh, Layla,” Jonesy starts, bringing his voice down to a whisper as to not alert anyone to their conversation. “Can we talk about something quickly? It’s about the… time travel… thing.”

Layla nods, and follows Jonesy into his room, the bassist flicking on the lights. Bonzo had been with Robert ever since they’d brought him up, so the hotel room was completely empty. Perfect for a private conversion. Sitting on the bed closest to the eggshell wall, Jonesy turns to face Layla, his hands fiddling with one another.

“I may have found some answers. It’s not much, but…”

Layla jerks, stunned by the admission, as her mouth opens and closes, doing her best impression of a fish out of water. She shakes her head, willing herself to respond, as Jonesy patiently waits.

“Wh-What? How? Jonesy, you—”

“Do you remember how, when we first talked about this, I had mentioned that guitarist? The one that had the same thing happen to him?”

“Yeah, you said he’d just vanished, listening to some playback?”

Jonesy nods, giving the woman a kind smile. He looks down at his hands again, and continues.

“Layla… What do you remember about the day you came here?”

“I was just getting ready for work,” Layla recounts, her face a picture of confusion. “When the turntable I have in my room started playing out of the blue.”

“It… It started playing on it’s own?”

“It started playing this song… I swear I don’t even have it on vinyl, but the lyrics were… they were beautiful. I reached out to stop it, and… then I was in the middle of the road.”

Jonesy fidgets again, eyes flitting around the room as he works out the best way to present his findings. Finally, he catches her gaze, and takes a small hand in one of his. Layla looks up at him, worry gleaming in her dark eyes as she waits for him to speak.

“The other day, I placed a call to my old friend, asking about his experience. He said… He said that the playback started on its own. He didn't push a single button.”

“But that means that…”

“...That this… time travel, seems to happen almost randomly.”

“The music. That’s what starts it… Did he say anything else?”

Jonesy looks down, shaking his head, his short hair flopping across his forehead. Looking back at Layla, he smiles apologetically.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming about what happened… though he did sound… sad? When it happened, he did mention a girl... I’m not sure exactly how this works, or why it works, but, Layla… He told me he had been there for years. He was…”

“Jonesy?” Layla calls his name, the man in question jolting, having gotten lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Locking eyes with the woman beside him, he continues, tone serious.

“He was gone for three days. If this is the same situation, I doubt you’ll have been gone for more than two days at most, when you go back.”

“This is,” Layla starts, hand coming up to run through her hair. She shakes her head, meeting Jonesy’s eyes. “This is insane…”

“Layla, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help. He just didn’t want to share, and—”

The bassist is interrupted by the sensation of arms around him, and sweet-smelling dark hair in his face. Hugging the woman back, he can’t help but be struck by the thought that he’s going to miss her, when she leaves. Pulling away, Layla swipes a finger under her eyes, obscuring any tears that might have fallen. Jonesy looks down at her, brows furrowed in concern.

“Jonesy, I… I want to apologize.”

“For what? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Is this like, a Canadian thing? I’ve heard you people apologize a lot.”

“I… I acted like… a bitch, to you all, when I first met you. I was rude, and I was… probably a little too sarcastic, and I never told you, or anyone, how—”

Jonesy pulls her in for another hug, and feels Layla bury her face into his shoulder, pulling away after a good while.

“I, uh… You probably don’t want to hear all the gory details, but… I learned to put up walls. To not let people in, ‘cause they’ll just leave. Looks like I’ll be the one doing the leaving this time…”

She chuckles wetly, scratching her arm unconsciously. Jonesy puts a steady hand on hers, stopping the movement.

“Layla…”

“When I got here, I was… scared,” Layla sniffles, looking away, too embarrassed at the admission to meet Jonesy’s pleading eyes. “Peter was the first face I saw when I woke up, and he was trustworthy. He helped me. You guys walked in and… I shut down. I put up walls, and I acted like… like nothing was bothering me.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain—”

“Look, Jonesy,” Layla interrupts, gaze still firmly on a scuff mark on her sneakers. “I just… I do appreciate everything you guys have done, especially you, and… I didn’t show that. Maybe I still don’t.” Jonesy gives the hand still in his a squeeze, prompting Layla to finally look at him. He’s shocked by the tears threatening to fall, her brown eyes dark with sadness.

“That’s not true. You make me smile every day, and you’re fun and… you’re like my little sister. It’s the same for Bonzo. He’s fond of you, even if he hides it, most of the time. He’s comfortable with you. You took care of Robert, and you comforted him. If you didn’t care, would you have stayed with him, stroking his hair for an hour?”

“Jonesy…”

“No, Layla, listen. Jimmy… God, he thinks so highly of you. He listens to you, which is a feat in and of itself. His face lights up whenever you’re around. The way he talks about you… We know you care. You care too much sometimes, if anything. You don’t have to apologize, because there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

Layla gazes into his stormy eyes, and nods, a fragile smile lighting up her face. Jonesy smiles back, and stands from his spot on the bed. Holding out a hand to help her up, Jonesy waits for Layla to take it, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a familiar embrace.

“God, Porter, you’re like…Bilbo Baggins, with how tiny you are.” Jonesy rests his arm on her head as he says this, smirking down at the woman.

“Says you, Jones.” Layla laughs, smiling gratefully at the bassist as they walk out the door.

----------

Slipping the ornate key into the lock on the door, Layla enters the room, spotting Jimmy sitting at the table near the window, a notepad and a ballpoint pen resting on the surface. The sunlight streaming in illuminates his face, as he squints against the brightness of it, writing furiously. Layla steps closer, taking in the sight before her. Perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, the sound of pen on paper ceasing as he looks up at the intruder.

“Hey, Jim. What’re you writing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…”

Glancing at the paper strewn across the tabletop, Layla spots hastily drawn staves, neat music notes decorating the lines. At the top of the page, reads: ‘Tea For One”. It didn’t seem like there was much to it yet, but Layla couldn't wait to hear it.

“Hey,” Jimmy starts, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, tell-tale nerves making their appearance. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Robert’s still sleeping, Peter’s keeping an eye on him.”

Jimmy huffs out a laugh, as he beckons Layla closer with a hand outstretched towards her. Taking it, Layla moves into his space, running her fingers through his hair as he looks up at her. She takes a handful of the soft sable locks and brings it up to the top of his head, a curtain of curly bangs falling over his eyes. Layla laughs as he frowns, looking up at her through emerald eyes sparkling with hidden happiness.

“I wasn’t talking about Robert, petal. How are you doing? I saw you walking with Jonesy, and you looked… nervous?”

“Oh,” Layla said, dropping her hands from the guitarist’s hair, scrambling for an adequate response. “I was just… a little on edge about Robert being sick and all, so Jonesy reassured me.”

“He’ll be okay, Layla. I hear you took great care of him.” The tail of the sentence is accompanied by a soft smirk, as he gazes at the woman, eyes roaming head to toe.

“Are you jealous, Page?”

“Well… I can’t help but want you all to myself, you know.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.”

Jimmy scoffs, taking her hand in his, threading their fingers together. Layla looks down at the joined hands, and Jimmy uses this to his advantage, pulling her even closer to sit in his lap. She lands with a soft noise of surprise, and Jimmy presses his lips to hers in a quick kiss.

“Romeo… That’s a new one.”

“What can I say? It fits you.”

“How?” Layla tilts her head to the side at this, a finger pressed to her chin in mock contemplation. A hand strokes the apple of the guitarist’s cheek, as she smiles winningly.

“Well, for starters, you’re too romantic for your own good. I wouldn't put it past you to recreate the balcony scene. Full dramatics, of course.”

“That must make you Juliet then, falling for my charm.”

“I mean, I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”

“Truly, I’m flattered,” Jimmy jokes, looking down at Layla, lips quirked in a smile. “And I thought you just liked me for my hair. You do keep messing with it, after all.”

“Well…” Layla giggles, tugging on a stray curl that frames his squared jaw. “That’s your fault for keeping it so long. Free real estate.”

Jimmy, smiling fondly at the woman in his lap, taps her leg, and she stands. Layla sticks a hand out to help him up, surely just an excuse to touch him again. Jimmy takes the offered hand, and places a hand on her hip as he pushes russet curls behind her ear.

“Bonzo was saying something about a trip down to the hotel pool, if you were interested. I can’t swim myself, but I’d be happy to join you… If you want to, of course.”

“Sounds like fun,” Layla exclaims, face lighting up at the prospect of a fun night at the pool. “Who else would I splash when they’re not paying attention, but you?”

“I shouldn’t have offered…”

With a wink, Layla bounds over to her suitcase and pulls out a swimsuit, heading into the bathroom to change. Jimmy changes into a pair of shorts, forgoing a shirt, and sits on their shared bed to wait for Layla, who walks out of the bathroom, a hand running up and down her arm shyly. She clears her throat, wincing at the volume of it, as Jimmy lifts his head to look at her. A sharp intake of breath rings out in the silence of the room as his mouth falls open, blatantly checking her out. Dressed in a simple, sleek black one-piece that accentuates her curves, dark hair cascading down freckled shoulders, Layla stands in front of him, arms crossed shyly over her chest. Jimmy nears, a hand going to her elbow.

“Petal, you look…”

“Is it okay?”

His response to her question comes in the form of a heated kiss, hand moving from her elbow to her cheek. Finally pulling away, he looks her up and down once more.

“You look… gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Layla runs a hand across his chest, making the man shiver, mind going haywire from the electric touch. The man looks down at her with a question in his eyes, dark with desire, and she nods. Jimmy walks her backwards until she’s pressed up against the wall, the man moving further into her space.

“Is this alright, petal?” he says, smirk in place as he gazes into Layla’s eyes, teasing her.

“God, just kiss me.”

And he does.

The couple’s lips move in unison, noses bumping together in their haste to connect. Jimmy’s uninjured hand moves back to its place on her hip as he groans into the kiss, biting her lip as she melts into him. Layla takes the noise as an invitation, slipping her fingers closer to the waistband of the man’s shorts. They pull away, Jimmy nodding, his pupils blown wide, lips swollen with the force of the kiss. Layla’s hair is mussed, Jimmy’s hands running through it as they move together. Layla’s hand slips lower, as Jimmy's own rests at her shoulder, fiddling with the bathing suit, hoping to uncover what lay beneath.

“I hope you’re not having sex in there! Let’s go, the pool won’t be open all day!” Bonzo’s voice booms through the closed door as the couple spring apart, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed scarlet. With a huff, they walk to the door, pulling it open to find Bonzo and Jonesy, dressed for a swim.

“You guys look… Um… Did we interrupt something?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Layla and Jimmy respond in unison, eyes wide as they look at the rhythm section, who shake their heads in exasperation.

“Whatever, just…. Keep it in your pants for a little longer, please.” With that, Bonzo and Jonesy walk away, Jimmy and Layla scrambling to keep up. Finally reaching the pool, Bonzo and Layla dive in immediately, while Jonesy sits on the edge, legs dangling in the water below. Jimmy takes a seat next to him, slipping a foot into the water hesitantly. Immediately, he pulls it out with a gasp, much to the amusement of his friends.

“That was so cold!”

“How about this, then?”

A wave splashes Jimmy right in the chest, and he shrieks, curling up to avoid the spray. Layla laughs, having splashed him in the first place. Jimmy, recovered from the shock of freezing water on his bare chest, frowns at the woman. His eyes, however, held an air of mischief, as if he was planning something.

“Come here for a second, petal?” Layla swims closer to him, a smirk tilting her lips upwards, dark eyes dancing with amusement. She stands up when she nears him, slotting herself between his legs

“Yes, Jimmy?”

His response was to bring a hand up to her cheek, drawing her in for a short, sweet kiss, a small taste of what they had been doing until they were interrupted. They pull away, and stare into the other’s eyes, as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. Bonzo, sends a glance to Jonesy, who smirks at the couple, knowing exactly what was coming.

Bonzo sends a burst of frigid water at them, laughing uncontrollably as Layla, who had received the brunt of the splash, turns around, dripping hair plastered to the sides of her face.

“Oh, it’s on, Bonham.”

“Let’s go, Porter. ”

The two engage in a splash war of epic proportions, water flying everywhere. Jimmy and Jonesy dodge the tidal waves that jet towards them, as laughter bounces off the tiled walls. This was a reprieve from the bad luck that seemed to follow the band as of late.

It’s a shame it won’t last.

--------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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belphegor1982 · 3 years

Note

86. “Don’t be scared I’m right here” prompt for sibling feels between Jonathan and Evie! Maybe when they’re kids and Jonathan is being a protective big brother?

I finally finished it! Hope you like :o)

The Chimera in the Attic

“Don’t be so loud,” whispers Jonathan, and Evelyn does her best to pin him with the most beady glare she can manage in the dark. It’s not so easy as it used to be. Jonathan has grown a lot in the past few months, and Evelyn remains somewhat on the small side for an eight-year-old girl.

He’s still skinny, though. The dressing gown Dad gave him for his birthday, saying he’d grow into it, is still too long and baggy for him.

“I’m not loud.”

“You are! I don’t even know how someone so small can be making so much noise while she walks! What are your slippers made of, solid lead?”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps talking!”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

Evelyn glowers, but forces her voice down.

“Yes,” she mutters with a sigh – carefully, so she doesn’t blow her candle.

“Good show. Now – toes first, and then your heel. Mind the stairs, we’re almost there.”

It seemed a good idea to ask Jonathan for help – and, if she’s honest, it probably is – but she still doesn’t like it when her brother decides to be The Grown-up. It doesn’t suit him at all. But if she is to retrieve the books Mrs Pemberton, the housekeeper and household dragon, confiscated from her and locked up in the attic, then Jonathan and his baffling (and highly dubious) talent for opening doors is just the man for the job.

The fact that this ‘man’ is a thirteen and a half boy notwithstanding, of course.

And to be completely honest, creeping around the dark, silent house around midnight in his company feels much less daunting than it would on her own.

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t have taken my books away,” she mumbles while the both of them tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the fifth step that always creaks.

Jonathan shoots her a look that has more than a little commiseration to it. But he doesn’t make a sarcastic comment like she half-thought he might. He also doesn’t point out that she’d need only wait till next Friday for Salwa and John Carnahan to come back from their trip. He knows few things are more important to her than her books.

“No,” he murmurs, “they wouldn’t have. But maybe you need a little more… I don’t know, subtlety?”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, don’t leave the books lying around when you know Mrs Pemberton doesn’t approve of you reading treatises that would give any normal adult a headache, especially when you should be sleeping. You might want to keep them hidden.”

Evelyn concedes the point silently.

True to his word, Jonathan only needs a few minutes until the lock gives up. She probably shouldn’t be so impressed.

The South Wing attic is one of the few places in the house that still don’t have electricity – not even gaslight. It’s essentially a large lumber room filled with steamer trunks, some full, some empty, cabinets and bookshelves devoid of books but filled with bric-a-brac, and more generally everything that’s not too sensitive to light or dust. The windows have only had windowpanes for a few years, and that’s solely because Mum and Dad wanted to use the space to store their travel diaries, inconvenient heirlooms, and everything they couldn’t find room for downstairs.

At this hour of the night, it looks empty and huge, and dark, and utterly uninviting.

Evelyn and Jonathan remain frozen on the threshold for a few seconds. Then Evelyn takes a deep breath, hears Jonathan do the same, and they enter.

From there they split up to search, Evelyn hoping the dust won’t ruin her slippers, Jonathan swearing quietly every time he stubs his toe against something. For some reason it feels even more important to be silent here than it did downstairs, which is silly. This attic is not anywhere near sleeping quarters.

Evelyn lifts a pile of old almanacs, careful not to breathe in the dust that goes flying when she puts them down. Then an unexpected noise behind her makes her gasp.

“It’s just me,” whispers Jonathan, who somehow crept up on her. Evelyn is all the more miffed because for once it doesn’t appear he did it on purpose. “Did you find anything?”

“Just these.”

“Are you sure this is where Mrs Pemberton took your books? She could’ve hidden them in her lair with the rest of her hoard – ugly portraits, stuffed lizards, human remains –”

“Oh, shush.”

Mrs Pemberton came with the house, so to speak, and watched over their father’s childhood with a gimlet eye. She’s very fond of John Carnahan and respected Salwa al-Masri from the moment Dad brought his new wife to England, which is a lot more than can be said for the rest of his family and household staff then. But she is Proper and Traditional and rules the house with an iron hand when the master and mistress are away. Jonathan sometimes half-jokes that he doesn’t see much difference between home and school as far as caning and bleeding knuckles are concerned. Evelyn really hopes he’s exaggerating on both accounts; but the last time Mrs Pemberton caught him scaling the vines on the west façade to sneak into a room, he held himself oddly for a few hours, and that wasn’t because he’d fallen down. He also made Evelyn promise she wouldn’t say a word to their parents, so she kept mum, but she can’t help thinking it’s not right. Mum and Dad never hit Jonathan when he misbehaves.

In normal circumstances she wouldn’t pick at his language. But a dark, dusty attic in the middle of the night is the last place in which she wants to hear about human remains.

“I saw her climb the stairs with all three books and come back down without them,” she points out. “She must have left them here.”

Logic has always been her most trusted ally. Jonathan, knowing this, nods.

“All right, so they’re somewhere in this mess. Now. If I was a fire-breathing dragon who eats twelve naughty children for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper every day, where would I hide forbidden but valuable books?”

Evelyn can’t help a silent chuckle. Then her eyes fall on a cabinet in a corner, standing in a pool of shadow.

She nudges her brother and they silently make their way towards the cabinet.

A rustling sound in the near distance makes them both freeze. The little candleholder trembles a little in her fist; with her other hand she instinctively searches for Jonathan’s.

“Don’t be scared,” she hears him whisper, “I’m right here.” But his hand is none too steady in hers as he grips back.

“I’m not scared.” Jonathan gives her a look before he bends to inspect the lock of the cabinet, so she insists, “I’m not! I was just startled.”

“Right,” he says with that small infuriating grin of his, like he hasn’t jumped as well at the sudden noise. “All right, then, let’s see…”

A minute later he manages to open the door just a sliver and peek inside.

“Well, good news, there’s your books. I can see the name of one of those dratted Bembridge fellows on the cover. Bad news: something’s blocking the door and I can’t get it open without forcing it – hang on –”

Jonathan pulls on the door, Evelyn steps closer to hear what he’s muttering, and that is when a few things seem to fall on their heads at the same time: something heavy, a cloud of dust, an angry screech, the flapping of wings brushing their skulls. Jonathan yelps, Evelyn cries out. Her candle falls to the floor, instantly snuffed out, but the light managed to give her a glimpse of teeth, feathers, and – scales?

A hand grasps hers and tugs her onwards. She runs along without hesitation, barely registering that they’re racing down the stairs and across the wing to Jonathan’s room, until they’re safe and secure behind the door, covered in dust, chests heaving, their hands on their knees.

“What the hell was that?” gasps Jonathan. Evelyn is too out of breath to answer right away. She’s too busy trying to shake the sensation of lightning coursing through her whole body, like her whole person is reduced to a small human-sized wire.

When she’s able to make sounds other than panting, she groans.

“My books! We forgot the books!”

“We were attacked by a monster and that’s the first thing you say?”

“But that was the entire reason we… We have to go back!”

“And we will, but in the morning, when we can see more than five inches in front of us. And won’t be set upon by nocturnal chimeras.”

“Well,” Evelyn declares mulishly, struggling against the remnants of the terror that made her fly down the stairs as fast as though the wings had been hers, “I’m going. I won’t be able to sleep for a while anyway, I might as well have something to do.”

“Evy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’re afraid, of course.”

“Evy.”

“But you will not stop me from—”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. The next thing she knows he drops three heavy volumes into her arms, so covered in dirt one can hardly decipher the titles on the cover.

“Here are your blasted books, you lunatic! And the next time you need something retrieved from wherever it’s ended up then you’re welcome to—”

It’s not easy to embrace another person while holding books that might be a little more massive than one can safely hold with one arm. That doesn’t stop Evelyn from following her impulse and throwing herself in her brother’s arms before he can finish his sentence. Emotions race through her – retroactive fright, a remnant of righteous anger at being denied what she loves most to do, relief at the return of her favourite books – and she knows better than to fight them. Instead she burrows her nose into the front of Jonathan’s dressing gown and lets them run their course.

Jonathan sighs into her hair and wraps his arms around her. If she doesn’t grow taller quickly he’ll soon be able to put his chin on top of her head. Usually she’s tempted to be a little miffed about that. Right now, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“I don’t… I didn’t mean that.”

I know, she thinks, letting the familiarity of his voice and his wiry frame wash the rest of her nerves away. She was fully prepared to march back up those stairs and into the attic, and now she’s unspeakably grateful that she won’t have to.

Later, when they’ve dusted off their nightclothes, Evelyn hops into bed with her brother. She does it every now and then when she can’t sleep for this or that reason, more rarely since he has gone away to Eton and only comes back in the weekends. Even if he complains that her feet are cold he never turns her away. As always, their whispered conversation carries late into the night. Evelyn is drowsing already when she asks, “What do you think happened, exactly, back there?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Jonathan, eyes closed, “and I don’t care. Whatever it was, it won’t bother us now.”

Evelyn agrees and finally falls asleep, secure in the knowledge that she is safe and, perhaps more importantly, so are her books.

※ ※ ※ ※

The next morning, they wake up at an ungodly hour to retrieve Evy’s candleholder and erase all traces that suggest they recently set foot in the attic. They approach the cabinet cautiously, only to find a moth-eaten stuffed crocodile’s head on the floor covered in bird droppings and what looks like a little owl’s feathers. The ‘trophy’ – probably older than their parents – must have been left on top of the cabinet for ages, wedged against the top of the door, effectively preventing anyone from opening the door completely.

Jonathan looks down, then up, then down again, and says, “There’s our chimera. Looks like we survived a crocodile attack last night.”

Evelyn makes a face. The memory of their undignified rout stings, especially now that it’s obvious there was nothing to get so scared about. Startled, yes; scared, no.

“I wonder if we frightened that poor bird away for good,” she muses as they set everything to rights as silently as they can.

Jonathan, who wandered off looking for the point of entry, looks over his shoulder and says, “I hope so. I don’t fancy this attic becoming an aviary. There are too many interesting things here to leave them left for the birds, so to speak.” He plugs an owl-sized hole in a windowpane with a rag and adds with a grin, “The things you’ll do for books, I swear.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Evelyn counters, feeling a similar wide smile make its way on her face.

And Jonathan, who usually has a ready sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, only shakes his head with a snort.

Books – both their contents and their physical form – are important to Evelyn in a way they aren’t to Jonathan. Perhaps they’ll never really understand each other on this. But perhaps it doesn’t really matter, either.

After all, even if he isn’t up to standing up to a chimera in the dead of night any more than she is, her big brother still knows her well enough to know that Evelyn Carnahan will only leave a book behind in the direst of circumstances.

(There you go! Not my best prose, I’m sorry, but it’s the best I could hammer out into shape ^^’ I have a lot of feels about these two and I’m always glad for the chance to explore these feels, so thank you, dear anon 💜)

#the mummy #the mummy films #ask reply #fanfiction #my stuff

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backtothestart02 · 3 years

Text

Hazy - 9/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Enjoy!

Commissioned by @andie1223

...

Chapter 9 -

Barry had managed to pull off the grand lie that he didn’t remember anything to Joe when he came in the room, but he didn’t know if he could do that repeatedly, and he knew he’d have to if he stayed at his own place after leaving presumably the next day. He could only guess that his powers were gone, since he’d been in the hospital overnight instead of just a few hours, and he didn’t know how long it would take for the severity of his injuries to recede. It’d been so long since he was…well, human.

“I know that look,” Linda said when she re-entered the room sometime later.

Barry quickly smoothed over his face and looked up at her.

“What look? And also, how? You haven’t known me long enough to know my looks.”

“Psh. I’m a reporter, which means I’m observant. I’ve been paying a lot of attention to you in the short time we’ve known each other. Trust me.”

He watched her suspiciously as she sat down on the chair beside his bed again.

“You’ll stay with me.”

He gawked. “Excuse me?”

“It’s obvious you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“I kept from Iris that I was in love with her until her wedding reception.” He paused. “I think.”

He couldn’t remember now. Did he confess his feelings before then in this timeline? Suddenly it was all very foggy.

“That’s different.” Linda brushed it aside. “That was a secret you wanted to keep. This one you don’t. And I’m the only one that knows. It just makes sense.”

“Linda, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not going to be fully healed by tomorrow. You’re going to have to…wait on me and stuff.”

She raised her eyebrows, amused.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Besides, how are you going to handle yourself if you just go home? Answer, you won’t. Joe will have to come over and then your little secret will probably come out.”

“You don’t know tha-”

“You’ll be at your weakest moment, and without me to interrupt a possible moment of secret spillage, well…”

He waited.

“It would be a disaster!”

“I don’t know how I’ll be on a couch, Linda…I’m still kind of fragile.”

She waved that off.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a guest bedroom. You can stay in there. And I’m a very clean person too, so you don’t have to worry about tripping over anything.”

His brows furrowed.

“Why would I worry about that?”

She leaned in, an all-knowing look on her face.

“Are you a clean person?”

He managed to blush.

“Yeah, exactly.” She returned to her former position. “If I leave you to your own devices, you’d probably re-injure yourself. And even worse!”

“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll stay with you.”

“Good.” She smiled smugly.

“But we’ll have to stop at my place first, so I can get clothes and stuff.”

“No problem.”

“Have you talked to Scott yet? About…your employment?”

She winced. “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m very good at groveling, so I’ll be sure to do that first thing tomorrow morning.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Worst case is…he suspends me, which I wouldn’t be a fan of but it would give me more time to wait on you, so that should excite you.”

Barry’s brows furrowed.

“You’re not afraid he’ll fire you?”

She snorted. “Uh, no. I’m too good of a reporter. He needs me. Plus, it’d be kind of a dick move, don’t you think? He escorts me home, only to fire me on my next workday?”

Barry attempted to shrug, but it hurt, and he winced.

“Use your words, Allen.”

His lips thinned. “I guess.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you’re in a much worse state than I am. Maybe let me take care of you and not the other way around?”

“I said I’d stay with you, didn’t I?”

“Reluctantly,” she reminded him.

He frowned. “I still said it.”

Linda studied him for a few seconds longer before letting up.

“Alright, well, I guess I should go.” She started to get up.

“Wait, why?”

She hefted her purse onto her shoulder.

“To let you get some sleep? I’ll be back in the morning to get you settled at my apartment, no worries. Unless…you’re not afraid someone will come in and pummel you here? You don’t think Eddie…” She let the question hang.

Well, he hadn’t been until now.

“No, of course not,” he said, sounding as convincing as he could. “Go ahead home, Linda. It’s late.”

“It’s early is what you mean.”

He had no concept of time anymore, so his brows furrowed and asked the question for him.

“It’s early Sunday morning. You were out for hours when they brought you in last night.”

That stunned him, even if he did recall vaguely hearing about that.

“Oh,” he said, and that clearly worried her.

“Maybe I should stay…” She bit her bottom lip.

“No. No, Linda. Go home. Everyone else will probably go home, and if they don’t, I’ll insist they’re not in my room. Get some rest. Please. You’ll be dealing with me enough in the coming days.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“So sure,” he assured her.

She pursed her lips.

“I’ll be fine. The monitors will go off if someone starts punching me again. Then the nurses will come running and soon after, the doctor. You have nothing to worry about.”

She eyed him carefully, but it was clear she’d started to agree with him.

“Alright.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ll be back in the…later morning. Get some sleep.”

“You too.”

With one last pained smile, she finally turned away and exited the room. Then he was alone. No one else came in until a nurse some 20 minutes later. That nurse asked if he needed anything, and when he didn’t, she shut off the lights and said she’d check on him later.

That seemed fine to him.

He lay his head back on the pillow and did his best to fall asleep. Unfortunately, he dreamed.

At least he thought he did.

“Flash,” a dark, rumbly voice sounded beside him.

His eyes flung open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There in his yellow speedster suit stood the Reverse Flash himself. He was vibrating at full speed.

“Missing your powers, are you?” He darkly chuckled.

Barry’s brows furrowed. He had a million questions, but his voice was stuck in his throat and he couldn’t get them out.

“If you think this is bad, it’s only the beginning.”

Then a crackle a lightning filled the room and the man in yellow was gone.

Barry’s eyes flung open again, and he was gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe.

Fumbling around with his free hand, he hit the red nurse’s button. The monitors must’ve been beeping really loud, because three nurses came in at once and quickly got him on oxygen. They stuck a needle in him too – something to calm him he guessed.

He blacked out. He didn’t dream this time. No hallucinations or visits from evil speedsters.

He was just out. For hours.

The steady beeping coming from the monitors woke him once. That and the light coming through the large window that the nurses must’ve forgotten to draw the shades over. Glancing at the clock across the room, he saw it was still early, 5 a.m., but he was okay now. He could breathe.

He was okay.

…

He didn’t tell Linda about the dream when she came to pick him up a few hours later, but he did reluctantly tell her about the whole not being able to breathe thing. He shouldn’t have, because it made her feel guilty for leaving. He was quick to reassure her though, and soon enough all the necessary paperwork was filled out, and he was allowed to go home with her.

They stopped at his apartment, which he only remembered because he had his phone on him and apparently at one point he’d put in his address along with the general contact information for himself.

Weird, but helpful in this particular instance.

It took some time to get all packed up, but Linda was good at that too, and she was fast on her feet.

“I’m glad I agreed to stay with you,” he finally said when they walked into her apartment about an hour later.

She turned to look at him and smiled.

“Me too.”

Things moved quickly after that. Linda showed him to the guest bedroom, which had a TV in it and some comic books on the bedside table. Superman, Spiderman, Iron Man, etc.

“Some light reading in case you get bored and the TV doesn’t entertain you enough,” she said when she caught him staring.

“Did you…have these or-?”

“Let’s say I did,” she said with a wink, and he knew that she’d gone out and bought some for his sake solely.

He chuckled and shook his head but got in the bed anyway, kicking off his shoes just before he did.

“Comfortable?” she asked, coming in moment later with a tray of breakfast food.

“I-” His jaw dropped. “Yes, thank you.”

He started to try sitting up and found he was in pain again.

“Ah-ah-ah, here you go.”

She set some pain meds on the bedside table and pulled a remote up from behind the bed.

“This bed is one of those adjustable ones. It’s like a hospital bed that way except way more comfortable. So you can lay all the way down and only have to press a button to sit yourself back up.”

“Wow, this is…this is really nice. Thank you, Linda.”

She smiled serenely.

“Any time, Barry Allen.” She picked up the tray that she’d set on the edge of the bed and laid it on his lap. “Now, be careful so nothing spills. I wouldn’t want to have to strip you of that warm comforter to clean it with you laying there.”

He shook his head and smiled.

“You really are a neat freak.”

She actually laughed at that.

“And proud of it. You’re welcome.”

He took a bit of the eggs on his plate.

“Mm, and a really good cook too.”

She rolled her eyes at that.

“It’s eggs and toast, Barry. This is no gourmet meal.”

“Still, you could’ve burned it,” he said, and then wished he could’ve taken it back.

He managed not to frown in front of her though, which was a win because then she’d ask why and he’d have to explain something other than in another life Iris was his fiancée and she couldn’t cook to save her life, but he’d take her burnt toast instead of Linda’s excellent cooking if it meant he could have Iris back in his arms again.

Unfortunately for him, he stayed silent too long even without the change in facial expression.

“What?”

He shook his head and hoped she wouldn’t push.

“Nothing.”

“Right, well, I should get dressed and get to work. I’ll check on you at lunchtime – or sooner if I’m suspended. Just text me if you need me.”

“Will do. Thank you, again.”

“Any time.”

She smiled brilliantly and left the room. He heard the shower run on the other side of the apartment and heard her move around the kitchen in her heels. Then some time after that, he heard the door open, close, and lock and knew she had gone.

He set the trap on the other side of the bed after he’d finished eating and used the remote to lay back down again. He wanted to get some decent sleep that didn’t involve being attached to tubes and cords in a hospital bed. This was a really nice set-up Linda had made for him here, and he planned on taking advantage of every part of it.

He slept for a few hours and then was unexpectedly roused by the sound of soft knocking on the main door to the apartment. He frowned, unsure if he’d heard it or not. Then a familiar voice sounded on the other side of the door and awoke Barry fully immediately.

“Barry? Barry, are you in there?”

Given how at odds they were at the moment, he had planned to ignore Iris should she try to talk to him again about Eddie. That was the last thing he needed, and besides, he was in pain. He shouldn’t have to get up when he was feeling like this.

How she’d even figured out he was staying here was beyond him too. Unless Linda had told her. But why would she when she’d invited him so he wouldn’t be bombarded by Joe.

And then suddenly he knew why.

“Barry?” She sniffled.

He tensed up and immediately went into protective best friend mode. She was crying.

Gingerly he got out of the bed as smoothly as he could, wincing as he went, but he made it. Down the hall he went, and peeking into the peep hole before opening to make sure she was still there, which she was, he opened it and stared at all the crestfallen beauty before him.

“Iris, what are you doing here?”

She swallowed hard.

“Linda told me you were here. I begged her to. I knew she knew and-”

“Iris-”

She huffed out some air and dabbed at her damp cheeks.

“Can I come in?”

He stepped to the side to let her in and shut the door behind her.

“Wow, this place is clean,” she commented, briefly thwarted from telling the reason of her visit.

“Iris,” he redirected her.

She spun around to face him.

“Oh, Barry, I’m so…so sorry. I…” She shook her head. “There will never be enough words to apologize for what I was asking of you when you were injured. I mean, you still are injured. And to put him first,” she scoffed at herself. “I know he’s my husband, but-”

“Iris.”

He reached forward with one hand and gripped one of her shoulders. It seemed to calm her somewhat. She caught his gaze.

“He did it, Barry.”

His brows furrowed. “I…don’t understand. Who did what?”

She swallowed again.

“Eddie. He went back after you had blacked out and…” Her bottom lip quivered. “He’s the reason you were in the hospital.”

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #hazy #chapter 9 #fic comissions

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years

Text

Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Final Part

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: Convinced that you’re bad for his friend, Minho lashes out at you, leaving you even more hurt and confused than you already were.

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, sub!minho, dom!reader, slapping, degradation, bratty!minho, kinda virgin!minho, he never had his ass fucked before lol, threesome, voyeurism, lots of dirty talk as per usual, cumplay, cum and drool all over, minho getting broken, but like it’s all consensual, and the reader is attentive, even though she wants to punch him, minor aftercare, jealous!jisung, deep-throating, pegging, fingering, minho is a mess, this fic is a mess, and I gave up proof-reading it so yes

You miss Jisung.

He’s been avoiding you ever since your movie night, hurt by your rejection. You wanted to respect his decision, you really did, but you feel like shit not being able to see his smile every single day like you used to. It was like your morning cup of coffee; sure, you could survive without it, but then you’d be dull and lifeless the whole day and what’s the point in that? You miss hearing him laugh, his adorable little giggles, so boyish and carefree, they make whatever was troubling you seem trivial. He never smiles at you anymore… and your days have been significantly less bright for it. The only thing that breaks the ominous gloom that has taken over your life are the ripples of lightning that flash in his eyes whenever your eyes accidentally meet, the pain still fresh in his mind.

You’re at your wit’s end by now. Even if it’s selfish, you’ve decided that you’re not gonna take this any longer; you’re gonna go to him. To say or do what? You don’t know. All you know is that you can’t take being without him any longer.

With each step you take towards him, your world gets a little brighter, a sliver of sunlight shining through the dark grey clouds. You feel good about this. You can almost feel the warmth seeping through your skin…but then a terrible storm comes between you, blocking the heavens out of sight.

Minho appears out of nowhere—or maybe he had been there all along, and you just hadn’t noticed, too busy staring at your sunshine boy. He grabs you without a word, and drags you away.

“What are you doing?” You panic, whipping your head around you to see a confused Jisung watching Minho lead you out of the practice room.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” He cautions as soon as you’re out of earshot, dark and unforgiving. “I’ve just barely gotten him to stop moping around because of you. I won’t let you destroy all the progress we’ve made so back off and let him move on.”

Oh. So apparently you weren’t that slick about your intentions. Minho must’ve noticed the longing glances you’ve been throwing at Jisung and the way you’ve been hovering around lately, nervous and trying to build up the courage to talk to him, something that Minho seems intent on preventing.

“Shouldn’t he be the one who decides if he wants to move on or not?” You bristle, feeling threatened by the boy who wants to take your sunshine away. You could feel your heart shrivel up at the thought that Jisung could move on from you so quickly. That—if it were up to Minho—another could be basking in the warmth that is him while you’re left behind, the only thing keeping you company is the memory of the sunlight on your skin.

Why does Minho want to hurt you like that? What did you do to him to deserve something so cruel?

“You know he won’t. He’s too sweet for his own good and that’s what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”

“Why are you talking to me like it’s my plan to hurt him? I care about him, believe it or not.”

“I don’t. Not after I’ve watched him bend over backwards to get you to like him when you’ve been nothing but a frigid bitch to him.”

“So you just expect me to reciprocate the attention of anyone who shows interest in me? Don’t I have the right to think about it? Matter of fact, have you ever considered that it’s his eagerness that put me off in the first place? Not everyone has their feelings on eleven, and some of us need some time before we can let someone in.”

“So what, you’re saying you like him now?” He sneers flippantly, mocking you.

“Maybe I do.” You mutter, fidgeting under his accusatory gaze.

“Maybe is not good enough. You said it yourself, Jisung feels too much. When he loves someone, he gives them his all, and he needs someone who can give their all to him as well, and let’s not kid ourselves, that person isn’t you. If you really cared about him then you’ll stay away from him. He can get over you if you back off now, but if you let him get too involved then decide you can’t handle him after all, it would crush him.”

“What if he hurts me? Why do you assume that I’d be the bad guy here?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if he hurts you. He’s my friend. He’s the one I care about.”

“Wow, thanks—”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off, not caring to hear what you have to say. “Don’t fuck with my members. They’re my family. You don’t deserve him so just step aside and let him find someone who can love him like he needs.”

“I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” You retort, trying to act like his flippantly cruel comment hadn’t cut you up inside, but the mirthless chuckle doesn’t make it past your constricting throat and your eyes fill up with tears that you refuse to shed in his presence.

“I’m gonna… yeah.” You spin on your heel just before the first droplets break off, and scurry away.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Waking up with a groan, you blindly throw your arm out from under the blanket and feel for the source of the noise that had ripped you away from your slumber at this undoubtedly ungodly hour. When your hand encounters the loathsome object, you bring it to your ear and answer it without even checking to see who was calling—and not caring to in your enthusiasm to curse them off for waking you up.

“I swear to god if this is not about someone dying—”

“Noona…” You almost miss the small voice over your own anger, stopping you in your tracks. You shoot up, all sleep suddenly leaving your eyes as you clutch the phone in both hands as if you can physically keep the other person on the line that way.

“Han?!”

“Did I wake you up, noona?” He asks dumbly, but your anger was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“No, nooo, I was already up…getting some water.” You wince at your stupid lie. It was obvious he’d woken you up. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s three in the morning and your voice sounds like that of an eighty year-old man suffering from chronic lung disease, but you’re not about to tell him that. Shaking your head, you try to brush off the stupid. “Anyway, what’s up?”

What’s up? Apparently the stupid was more deeply ingrained than you thought.

“Oh, I… umm, I’m in the studio and I’ve been working on this song that… is just kicking my ass, you know? And…um,” He trails off into an awkward silence, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since middle school.

Was he waiting for you to finish his thought? You hope not because you had no idea where he was going with this. Was he looking for a pep talk or something? Oh god, what were you supposed to tell him? You weren’t prepared for this.

A frustrated sigh cuts off your panicked musings.

“I’ve told you before how you’ve been like a…a muse to me—oh god, that sounds so dumb and cheesy but it’s true, and without you around it’s just—”

Another deep sigh and a long pause. You can practically feel him telepathically willing you to understand what he needs but you were slow from sleep and your ability to figure out what he wanted without using words had gone rusty from disuse.

Still, the silence was suffocating so you decide to take a shot in the dark. “Do… do you want phone sex?”

“No! What? No!” He squeaks in that adorable panicked voice of his and despite the weird situation, it puts a smile on your face.

“Can you just come to the studio?” He ventures wearily, “Not to hook up or anything! I think I just… need you near me.”

You gasp at his confession. You’ve only dared to wish for something like this in your dreams, the time and distance that grew larger between you with each passing day having all but left you hopeless that he’d want you back.

Misinterpreting your reaction, he hurries to apologize, “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask and you probably don’t want to see me—”

“It’s not!” You cut him off, scared he’d hang up before you even had a chance to speak for yourself. “I want to see you, Han. I’ll be there soon.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The big studio feels suffocatingly small with just the two of you inside, all the baggage you two have been carrying over the months taking up too much space for you to comfortably breathe. You needed to cast them away but you’re not sure how.

“So…what are you working on?” You valiantly, and awkwardly, break the loaded silence, startling Jisung as if he hadn’t expected to hear you speak.

Clearing his throat, he turns towards the control board and fumbles with the buttons. “Let me show you.”

He gives you no further instruction so you just stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before going ahead and grabbing one of the extra chairs and pulling it up to sit beside him.

“This is the song I told you about.”

As the song starts playing, he stares ahead, chewing on his bottom lip and not checking to see your reaction. When his voice comes on, he blushes a little. “This is just the demo. The finished version will have a much better vocalist like Woojin-hyung or Seungminnie to sing it.”

“I like your voice, Han.” You answer without thinking, but it’s true. Jisung may not be the main vocalist but you like the tone of his voice regardless. “I think it’s, um, sweet.

“You don’t have to flatter me, noona.”

“I’m not.” Your firm tone makes his eyes automatically look over to you. “I like it, ok?”

“Ok.” He bites his lips and looks straight ahead once again.

When the song finishes, he asks for your opinion.

“I like it…” You start, hesitating.

“But?”

“But I feel like it’s missing something.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims, pressing his fingers against his temples in frustration. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, stressed that he’s looking at you like he expects you to have an answer. “You’re the producer.”

“I know. I’m just frustrated and tired.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “I’ve been working on it for so long but it’s still not right.”

“Why don’t you take a little break? Maybe it’s not working out because you’re forcing it.” You suggest.

“A break? Like do nothing?” He cocks his head at you, a little confused frown on his face as he considers your words, seeming as if the thought had never crossed his mind before.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ok.” He blinks and leans back in his chair, his frown intensifying as if he’s hearing about the concept of relaxation for the first time in his life.

As cute as he looks right now—and he looks gosh darn cute with that kissable pout on his lips and the way he had tugged his legs against his chest, looking so tiny—you realize that you need to distract him before his mind goes haywire from overthinking.

“Or you could show me some of your other work?”

His eyes snap up to you, wide and excited at the proposition. “You wanna hear more of my stuff?”

You smile gently at him, assuring him that, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The awkwardness dissipates soon after that, as he—at first self-consciously, and then proudly—shows off his work to you, swelling up with each word of praise you profess to him, and you, in turn, swell up with a special kind of pride you’ve never felt for anyone before, a feeling that made you want to proclaim to the world that ‘Yeah, that’s my baby, right there. Isn’t he wonderful?’

You’ve always known that Jisung was gifted, but to get to see him in his element like this, his talent in its rawest form, was an experience you never knew you needed. He was so passionate and genuine about his work, it honestly made you a little teary-eyed.

“Wow, you’re really good at this stuff.” You conclude stupidly, having spent a couple of hours in the studio by now, just listening to some of his tracks and discussing where he wanted to take his music and what he wants to tell through it. You felt woefully under-prepared to even be a passive party in such a technical discussion, but Jisung insisted that talking to you helped him sort out his thoughts and come up with a bunch of ideas on how he might fix that track that has been causing him trouble.

“Thank you, noona.” The sweet boy blushes despite your less than graceful compliment. “I actually thought that maybe I could become a producer if this whole idol thing hadn’t worked out.”

“You’d be an amazing producer! Actually, whatever you would’ve chosen to do, I know you would’ve been amazing at it.” You gush with conviction. Maybe you were biased but you just know that your sunshine boy was talented enough to succeed at whatever his beautiful heart desired.

And through your stormy world, the sun shyly peeks behind the clouds as he smiles at you. Not just any smile, your smile, the one you’ve been aching for all this time, and you can’t help but stare, enraptured by it like a second sun had appeared in the sky.

But before you could soak up the light, it gets eclipsed by the gloom once again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jisung whispers, hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze set on his twiddling fingers, avoiding your own.

“What?” You blink, the remnants of the light scattering from your eyes.

“I thought that maybe you’d miss me like I was missing you… but I guess you were right about me being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You shoot out of your seat and stand over him, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I did! I missed you so much!”

“But you never tried to contact me.” He breathes you in, and for a second, he gets lost in all that you are—your smell, the light in your eyes, the warmth of your hands, all the things that he had missed so dearly. He’s so busy soaking it all up that it startles him when your hands fall from his face to swing limply at your sides, breaking the spell.

“I did try but…”

“But what?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you recall what Minho had said. You don’t deserve him. His words rang in your ears like thunder, feeling truer now than they ever did after what you’ve witnessed today.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, embarrassed to admit the truth. You’ve never been this unsure of yourself. Not because of Minho—he could go fuck himself as far as you were concerned. But this was the first time you’ve been so completely enamored with someone like this. People tend to inflate their lover’s worth and you were no exception; to you, Jisung deserves the best, and you feared that you weren’t that.

Reclaiming your hands, he tugs on them gently, pulling you onto his lap. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Despite the firm grip he has on your hands, his soft glittery eyes give him away. He was begging you to say something that would assuage his pain, to prove to him that you wanted this as much as he did and that the delay had been out of your hands.

You could do that. You could give him that much.

“Minho told me to stay away.” You confess, heart heavy and fearful that the words would be like a wake-up call to him, and he would realize that he deserved better after all. “He said that you deserve someone who could love you as much as you love them and that I’m not that person.”

At the uncharacteristically livid look on Jisung’s face, your anxious mind bungee jumps to conclusions, figuring that he must think that you’re lying to set his best friend up. You don’t even realize that you’ve started crying until you feel Jisung’s fumbling fingers wiping at your cheeks, trying to keep the tears at bay,

“Oh my god, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, noona. I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. I swear I will.” It would be a hard feat to take any death threat from Jisung seriously, but it’s even harder to when panic dilutes any edge his anger may have had. “Wait… is that why he pulled you out of the practice room that one time?”

You nod, pouting childishly as you remember the incident.

“That fucker! He told me that you were just trying to hook up with me and that’s why he stopped you!” He fumes, but yet again, his anger is quickly cut off by doubt and insecurity, “…you didn’t only want to hook up, right?” He asks, unsure.

“No!” You yell, frustrated beyond belief by how unnecessary all this heartache was, all because of his bitch of a friend. “Would I be here in the middle of the night, listening to your dumb songs for hours if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“Hey! My songs aren— wait, you have feelings for me?”

“Do you think I sing A Whole New World with just any random dude?”

He bites his lip and tries to suppress his smile, but that only emphasizes his squirrel teeth, making you curse as you feel your heart leaping in your chest. Fuck, so cute.

You realize that you’ve said that out loud when he blushes and smacks your shoulder playfully, his teeth untangling from his lip to let his smile grow wide and unrestrained. “I want to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “I like you, you dumbass.”

You had hardly finished saying it before you’re pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. “Then forget about what my dumb hyung said.”

“But what if he’s right? What if I can’t love you enough?” You fret, still unsure.

“Impossible. With just one call, you come running here, leaving your cozy bed behind to listen to my dumb songs without even the slightest prospect of getting dicked down? You’re whipped, noona.”

You smack him playfully, and yet you still can’t quite let it go. “What if I hurt you?”

“Isn’t that how all relationships go? Either you stay together or you break up.”

“You’re being super wise right now, it’s disturbing.” You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and smothering him with chaste little kisses.

Impatient, he grabs your face and captures your lips in a real kiss. “You’d be surprised what my brain is capable of when not all my blood is flowing to my boner.”

You throw your head back laughing, finally starting to feel like things are going to be okay for the first time in a long time. “I love you my dumb, wise baby…”

“Oh, and Minho will pay for this.”

Jisung buries his face in your neck, chuckling lightly. “I’m already on it, babe.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Checking your phone, you take note of the time; Ten thirty. That means you had kept them waiting for almost 20 minutes now.

This was all part of Jisung’s plan to make his hyung “atone” for trying to sabotage your relationship—bringing him into your bedroom so you can fuck him up like he almost fucked you guys up, and if that happened to also satisfy his long-held fantasy of getting to see you fuck another guy in front of him... Well that was just the cherry on top for him, or so he claimed.

You knew just how thirsty he was for this, the weeks leading up to tonight filled with a whiny, impatient Jisung pestering you about why he can’t just bring Minho over already and accusing you of prolonging his wait just to torture him. And maybe you did, but it’s nothing he can prove.

Deciding to finally have mercy on him, you give yourself one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place and that the red robe you wore covered your bare body properly before you head out of the bathroom door and step out into your bedroom.

Immediately, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the scene in front of you.

Minho had your boyfriend pinned under him on the bed, both their clothes in a pile on the floor and their dick rubbing against each other as Minho grinded down on him.

Small moans escaped Jisung as he struggled against the hold Minho had on his arms, pinning them against the bed as he devoured the younger boy’s neck. You haven’t even started yet and they were already misbehaving. You had told them clearly to not touch each other while you were getting ready but apparently you should’ve never trusted these two.

Whatever, you’ll teach them to not disobey you again.

Taking your phone out of the robe’s pocket, you open the app that controls the plug you had put inside Jisung’s ass earlier and turn it on, causing the boy to suddenly yelp out and whip his head towards the bathroom door where you stand, freaking out when his eyes land on your unimpressed face.

“I tried to stop him, noona.” He attempts to justify his actions but you shush him, walking further into the room. “Sure, you did, brat. You know, I’m doing this whole thing to satisfy your sick fantasy, right? And yet you can’t even follow one simple instruction, can you?”

You turn the speed up a notch, making Jisung jolt a little in Minho’s grasp. “Ah, fuck, noona! I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You turn it up even higher.

Curious as to what’s happening, Minho pushes off the boy, cocking his head to the side as he takes a second to realize what has suddenly gotten the younger boy so riled up. His suspicions are confirmed when he pulls Jisung’s thighs apart to see the diamond-shaped bottom of the plug glimmering between his cheeks. Pressing on it, he pushes the part that had slipped out because of Jisung’s squirming back in, making the boy gasp and his fingers clutch at the sheet desperately.

“Hmm, cute. So this is what Jisungie has to make do with. How sad.” He sneers, fucking the toy in and out of him a few time before taking it out and throwing it to the ground at your feet. “It must kill you, that you don’t have a real cock to fuck him with, right?”

“But I do have one.” You retort easily, not missing a beat, and he frowns at you in confusion, flinching just a bit when you reach a hand out towards him. But he doesn’t stop you as your hand wraps around his hard dick and gives it a sharp stroke that has him involuntarily thrusting forward in your fist.

“It’s right here. As long as you’re in my bed, every part of you belongs to me.” You drawl, continuing to languidly stroke him. “Even your pretty little dick.”

Taking your hand off his again, you don’t miss the quiet hiss he lets out at the loss of stimulation. “Now fuck him well and don’t you dare disappoint me.” You deadpan, sitting down on the bed in front of them and looking at them expectantly.

Turning to Jisung with misplaced anger, he manhandles the poor boy, flipping him onto his stomach then grabbing him by the hips to push his ass in the air, allowing him to easily line up his dick with your boyfriend’s stretched out hole. He looks you right in the eyes as he orders him, “Beg for it, baby boy. Beg me to ram my cock inside you and fuck you like she can’t.”

Jisung hesitates and you can see the conflict on his face as he contemplates whether to obey Minho and piss you off or not obey him and piss him off. Impatient, Minho lands a harsh smack against the younger’s ass. “Beg or I’m not fucking you.”

Whimpering and already much too excited and desperate, that is enough to make up Jisung’s mind. “Please, fuck me, hyung. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? Why, baby? Does she not fuck you?” Minho goads, pushing just the tip of his dick inside the boy.

“She does, but it’s not the same. Your cock feels so much better, hyung.” Jisung throws his head back, moaning theatrically as Minho bottoms out inside him.

“Good boy.” Minho smirks at you as he puts his hands on Jisung’s slim waist and starts moving him over his length, fucking him slowly.

You roll your eyes at the two boys acting out, thinking they’re actually doing something there. You watch as Minho makes Jisung fuck himself on his dick instead of thrusting into him, moving the younger boy ever so slowly over his cock as he stares you down with an arrogant smile, knowing that you want to see him ruin Jisung, but choosing to tease you instead.

But two can play at this game.

Loosening up the knot that held your robe closed, you slowly pull the fabric apart over your chest until it slides off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and hard nipples to their hungry eyes. You play with them, taking your time as you massage your breasts and lightly run your fingers over your nipples, only allowing the softest moans to slip from your lips, each one riling the boys up more. You smile as Minho unconsciously starts fucking the boy under him while Jisung lets out whimpering little moans, needing you both to stop teasing him.

“Noona, please spread your legs.” Jisung whines, eyes focused on the way your legs were rubbing together because of your own hands on your chest.

“You want me to expose myself to your hyung, baby? Don’t you have any shame? Wanting him to see what any other man would fight to keep to themselves?”

Jisung whines again and reaches out to push your legs apart himself. You act as if he took you by surprise, letting them get a glimpse of your pussy before you snap your legs shut and slap your boyfriend across the face. “You little pervert!”

He draws back and whimpers, pushing his ass against his hyung’s crotch and moaning out wantonly as the movement suddenly pushes Minho’s entire length inside his ass, the tip of it hitting his prostate.

“You want to see my pussy that bad?”

He nods, watching your hand snake between your legs to cover your crotch before you spread them open, your hand inconveniently covering your heat. “You want to show your hyung what you’ve been getting all this time?”

You grind the heel of your hand against yourself, the stimulation crude but arousing nonetheless, and you let out soft little moans.

“Yes, noona, please! I want to show him your pretty pussy.”

You giggle at your boyfriend’s pleas and start pulling your fingers off one by one, until the only thing standing between their hungry eyes and your glistening pussy is your middle finger that was still placed over your slit.

“But I don’t know if I he deserves to see.” You pout sadly, continuing to tease them, rubbing your finger up and down your slit, which proves to be too much for Minho who finally snaps. “For fuck’s sake, just show us your pussy!”

“Ah, hyung—” Jisung attempts to warn him but it’s too late, you clamp your legs shut and tie your robe back up. “I see where Jisung gets his brattiness from. That’s too bad. I was going to let you eat me out.”

Tauntingly, you brandish your soaked fingers in their faces, making a show of rubbing them together then pulling them apart so they’d see the thick strings of arousal that stretch between them.

Jisung cries out, pleading you for a taste, and you even see Minho lick his lips in anticipation. So you reach your hand towards him as if you’re going to let him have a taste, but just as he opens his mouth to take your fingers in, you drop your hand and wipe your fingers on the sheets.

“Bitch.”

“Oh honey,” You lean up close to his face, your words dripping condescension. “You’re the only little bitch here, and I’ll prove it to you soon enough.”

You can see that the threat gets to him as he stops fucking Jisung to warily watch as you get off the bed to retrieve the box you had prepared beforehand.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep fucking him.”

But he can’t and his eyes remain on you as you get the box and settle back down on the bed, this time behind him. Craning his head back, he sees you taking out a bottle of lube and slathering some of it on your middle finger.

“What are you going to do?” He turns back towards you with panic in his eyes.

“What do you think? I’m going to finger you open so I can fuck your pretty ass.”

“What? You’re g-gonna fuck me? But I thought…”

“You thought what, that you’d be the one fucking me?” You sneer, making him flush with embarrassment and stare back ahead to avoid your sharp gaze, but you grab him by the jaw and force him to face you again. “You think I’d let your pathetic little cock anywhere near my pussy?”

Taking one of his hands in yours, you guide it between your legs, and he gasps out as he feels your wetness. “Did you really think you deserve to fuck this pussy?” You condescend, pushing his fingers inside you and letting him feel your tight heat around him.

“N-no.” He whimpers, fingers twitching as he tries to hold himself back from moving them.

“No.” You confirm, ripping his hand away from you.

As you push him down on top of Jisung and line your finger with his entrance--ignoring the way your boyfriend glares back at you for squishing him under the older boy--Minho squeaks out, “Wait!”

“What now, brat?”

“I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“What?” For the first time, you panic, and practically jump back.

“I’ve fingered myself before!” He quickly adds in when he sees the worry in your eyes, “I just have never been…uh… you know.”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah.” He stares dead ahead once again, too embarrassed to look at you.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it then that’s fine. You and Jisung could just keep fucking and we’ll end it at that.” You say, trying to convey to him that he completely had a choice in this and you would never do something he was uncomfortable with. Yes, this was his “punishment” and you weren’t exactly happy with what he had tried to do to you and Jisung, but you would never force anything on him.

“No, I want to try.” He mumbles quietly.

“What?” You prod, having heard what he said but needing him to say it loud and clear, not just to confirm that he was okay with this but because it was so sexy watching the hyper-bratty boy acting so shy. “If you don’t speak up and say what you want clearly, I won’t give it to you.”

His head snaps back towards you, scared you’d follow through on your threat, and he was way too horny to stop now. “I want it.”

Smirking, you press your lubed up finger to his hole, not pushing it in yet but just rubbing against it. “What do you want?”

“You know what.” He grunts, hips tensing with the effort to not push back against your finger.

“Jisung baby, is this how a good boy asks for something?”

“No. Good boys beg for treats.” Jisung’s voice was strained with need as he wiggles his hips, his dripping dick pressed against his abdomen and the sheets as Minho’s weight lies on top of him, but doesn’t try to rush the both of you, understanding that this is a sensitive moment.

“You heard him, kitten. Beg.”

You can tell from the way his jaw clenches that he wouldn’t give in even before the insolent words come out of his mouth. “Fuck you.”

You smile menacingly, “Gladly.”

You push your finger inside of him, not too suddenly so as not to hurt him but quick enough to make him ache. “Just wait until I’m done with you. I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Minho grunts in disapproval at your words but he doesn’t protest as your finger starts exploring his tight ass, rubbing inside him in tight little circles, searching for the spot that would have him keening.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked before. With the way you act, I would’ve guessed that someone would’ve already gotten sick of your shit and fucked you straight. God knows it’s all I could think about whenever I hear you run your bratty little mouth.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. This doesn’t even feel go–oh!” He tried to shoot you down but he embarrassingly fails when he feels your finger brush against his prostate, quickly silencing his retort.

“Shhh… that’s a good boy.” You jeer, pressing a firm hand to the small of his back to keep him in place as you start pumping your fingers, not wanting him to get ahead of himself. You can practically feel his body humming underneath you.

It doesn’t take him long to ask for more. “Fuck, go faster.”

“What’s the magic words, princess?” You mock.

“I ha-ate you.” He stutters, making you laugh. “I hate you too, darling, but those are not quite the words I’m looking for.”

When your finger is easily thrusting in and out of him, you pull it out to squirt more lube onto it, covering your index finger along with it too then pushing them both inside of him, smirking at the way he braces himself against the stretch and knowing that he’ll be feeling good again in no time.

And sure enough, he’s soon mewling and squirming in your grasp as he unconsciously fucks the boy underneath him, his hips thrusting down with each push of your fingers against his prostate. Jisung was whimpering under him, enjoying the erratic way Minho was drilling into him was making his own dick grind against the sheets.

“That good, huh?” You drawl at the two boys.

“So good.” Jisung whimpers, but Minho still can’t get himself to give in.

“Shut up—AH!” He throws his head back, moaning out.

“I think he’s gonna cum soon, noona.” Jisung warns you, “I can feel him twitching inside me.”

“Oh no, he won’t.” You declare, pulling him up so his dick slips out of Jisung, both of them crying out in frustration, but Minho’s whining was significantly louder, not used to your teasing the way Jisung was. You smirk as you force him to sit back on his heels and wrap a hand tightly around the base of his cock to staunch his release. He was so close to breaking now.

“Grab the cockring from the box, baby.” You tell Jisung, and Minho kicks up a fuss as the younger boy slips out from under him, struggling in your arms. “No, no, I don’t want it!”

You exchange an amused look with Jisung as he hands you the cockring. “He really thinks he gets to have a say in this. What a silly kitten.” You laugh, putting the ring on him anyway. “There, now it’ll be much harder for the little kitty to misbehave.”

You push him back on his hands and knees, ordering Jisung to get the strap and put it on you. He excitedly obeys, buckling it up for you and even putting lubing it up, impatient to finally see you fucking his hyung.

“Good boy.” You cup his face and give him a sweet kiss, then, in a hushed voice so Minho wouldn’t hear, you ask, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Right away, Jisung smiles and nods, kissing you once again and letting out a muffled “yes” against your lips before he excitedly pulls back in order to watch.

Turning your attention back to Minho, you make sure he’s alright too. “I’m going in, kitten, okay?”

“Do it.” He grits, this time unable to hold back the slight way his ass pushes back against you.

Assured that they’re both completely on board with this, you get back into character. Lining the strap-on with his ass, you start pushing the fake dick into him slowly. He whimpers with each inch of it that slides into him and when it’s all the way in, he lets out a long sigh. You remain still for a while as he adjusts, and then for a little while longer just to see him squirm and try to get you to start fucking him.

“You’re so stubborn, kitten, but your body betrays you.” You tease, finally moving your hips. Minho moans quietly as your cock drives into him, bashful little noises he can’t control as his pleasure easily builds up again because of your prolonged teasing.

Shuffling up the bed so he’s kneeling in front of Minho, Jisung hooks a finger under the older boy’s chin to lift his face up towards him. He clearly likes what he sees on his hyung’s face because he bites his lip and his other hand slithers down his body to tug at his own cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, hyung?” Jisung asks, but it seems like he wasn’t interested in getting an answer because as soon as his hyung opens his mouth to speak, Jisung pushes his thumb inside and presses down on his tongue.

You don’t fail to notice the hungry way Jisung was regarding Minho as he struggles to mouth his words despite the obstruction. You knew what your boy wanted, and he was long overdue to get his reward anyway.

“Go ahead, baby, use his mouth.” You inform Jisung and grab onto Minho’s hair to keep his head up and his mouth level with Jisung’s cock. “Since he interrupted you so rudely earlier.”

“Thank you, noona!” Jisung gushes, paying no thanks to the person who is actually going to have his dick in his mouth because at this point--just like you had told him earlier--Minho was just a toy for you to play with your boyfriend with. As long as he was in your bed, his body was yours to do with as you please, and right now it pleases you to see him choking on Jisung’s dick.

But Minho still resists, and when Jisung presses the head of his dick against his mouth, he refuses to let him in. Unfortunately for him, Jisung was too wound up to entertain his defiance, and he promptly grips his hyung’s jaw and digs his fingers into his cheeks, pucking his lips open and shoving his length between them and into down his throat.

A loud moan tears out of his own throat when he feels Minho choke around his length, but his pleasure is marred by guilt and he forces himself to pull out in order to allow Minho to breathe. You don’t let him though, quickly stepping in and using the grip you had on Minho’s hair to push his head back down Jisung’s cock because, unlike Jisung, you don’t feel sorry for the older male at all. You hold him like that for a couple of seconds as he struggles to breathe through his nose that was nestled in Jisung’s crotch.

“Don’t be nice to him, Sungie. He tried to break us apart. Use him however you want.” You grunted, finally let Minho go.

Mercifully, Jisung gives him a few seconds to clear his throat, coughing and spluttering violently, before he replaces your grip with his own and pushes his length back inside his hyung’s mouth.

The sight of Jisung holding Minho by his hair and fucking his mouth like that reminds you of the time he did the same thing to you, holding you down with his cock sheathed down your throat. You had to admit--seeing it happen in front of you--you get why it turned him on so much back then, and the lewd sounds of Minho gagging and slurping around Jisung’s cock only works you up further.

Picking up the pace, you try to match your thrusts with Jisung’s, the both of you brutally fucking the poor boy whose moans get louder and garbled like he’s trying to tell you something. Too far gone in ecstasy, Jisung doesn’t notice but you do. You push Jisung back a bit, making him whine as you stop his abuse of the other boy’s throat so you can ask him what he wants.

“I want to cum.” He splutters hoarsely, drool falling down to the sheets as he coughs.

“Still not how you ask. Do you want to try again?” You wait for him to beg, but he still resists. “No? Alright. Jisungie, do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes, please, let me, noona!” It’s easy for you to make Jisung beg, yet you still look at him with adoration and pride every time he does it.

“Okay, but I want you to do it on your hyung’s face. Want you to cover his pretty face with your cum. Can you do that for me, love?”

“Fuck, yes, noona.” Jisung bites down harshly on his lip, his hand immedietly going to his dick and pumping it furiously as he watches you continue to fuck Minho.

“I think he wants it, noona. His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth.” Jisung teases the older boy whose face was mere face inches from his red and swollen dick. “Ready, hyung?”

When Jisung cums, it lands all over Minho’s face, covering him with his sticky seed and joining his drool to drip down onto the mattress. With a final grunt, the last spurt of cum lands on Minho’s cheek. Reaching out a hand, Jisung smears his cum all over Minho face, watching with ecstasy-laden eyes as his hyung shudders with need under his fingertips.

“I can’t—shit… please, please, please, ah, don’t stop, p-please, god… cum-ah...” Minho blabs, barely coherent as the need seizes his brain and pushes out every last bit of pride. He had finally broken.

Satisfied, you pull Minho up into a sitting position and give Jisung the go ahead. He quickly grips Minho’s cock and jerks him off in much the same way he did his own cock seconds earlier.

“Come on, hyung, cum for us now.” Jisung coos at him, but Minho doesn’t give in yet, scared that this was a trick somehow. Turning his head to look back at you, he looks to be on the verge of crying. “Please.”

Wow, you had really done him in.

Chuckling, you reassure him that he can cum. “Don’t worry, kitten. You can cum. You’ve done such a good job so go ahead, baby. Cum.”

Giving him the final push he needs, Minho lets the powerful orgasm Jisung’s hand and your strap-on give him, letting out loud sobs as he shakes and clutches onto Jisung’s shoulders, his cum painting your boyfriend’s stomach white and dripping down to his cock.

When you pull away to take off the strap-on, Minho slumps down into Jisung’s arms, the younger boy holding him in his embrace and awkwardly running his hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe his overwhelmed hyung despite him not having any experience in the aftercare department.

“There, there.” Jisung’s wide eyes stare at you, silently asking you for help, and you could almost laugh at the sheer panic you see in them.

Although you still weren’t one-hundred percent over what Minho had done to you in the past, it only takes a moment of seeing the shivering mess that had become of him for your instincts to kick in and compel you to take care of him.

Wanting to help the both of them out--your boyfriend who looked like a teenager holding a newborn baby like he’s afraid he’d break him, and Minho who might as well have been born again for how new the experience was to him-- you quickly put the toys aside and go back to the boys.

Pressing a hand to Minho’s back, you caress his skin softly and whisper to him, “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did good. You’re such a good kitten.” You trail your hand up to push his hair out of his face so you can look him in the eye and convey your sincerity to him.

You hear a small huff, but it hadn’t come from Minho. You look up at your boyfriend to see him frowning at you, his eyes narrowed and his expression all but asking you what the hell you were doing.

You shoot him a sharp look that tell him to behave then you turn back towards the older boy in his arms. “Think you can handle a shower right now, kitten?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in Jisung’s neck and letting out a muffled whine, “Don’t wanna.”

“What a baby.” Jisung snorts under his breath and it takes everything in you not to grab him and give him a good spanking for acting so selfish and thoughtless.

You give him another sharp looks that has him cowering, and try to keep the edge out of your voice as you talk to Minho. “That’s okay, I’ll just go grab a towel to clean you up. Sungie, stay with him until I come back.”

“But, I--” Jisung starts protesting, a severe pout scrunching up his face at having to take care of his hyung when he’s usually the one being taken care of.

“No buts, don’t be selfish now.”

“Humph!”

“Be good now and I’ll reward you later.” You sigh and go to kiss the top of his head, thinking that it’ll end at that.

But as you get up to get the towels, Jisung follows you anyway, peeling his hyung’s fingers off of him and leaving him curled up on the bed alone.

“What did I say?” You grit, not feeling up to taking care of both your pouty boyfriend and his needy hyung. He’s the one who wanted this so bad in the first place, the least he could do is help you.

“Why are you being so nice to hyung?”

“It’s called aftercare, Jisung. This was his first time getting pegged, he needs the support or he could go into subdrop.” You explain patiently, but Jisung didn’t look like he was interested in listening.

“What about me?” He whines insolently, backing you up against the counter, one of his hands going between your legs. “You’re my girlfriend, not his.”

You shiver as you feel his fingers teasing your slit, reminding you of how you’re the only one who didn’t get to cum. “And you’re my big boy. I know you can handle not being the center of attention for one night. You hyung needs me more than you do.”

“He didn’t even make you cum.” He scoffs.

“I’ve got you for that, angel.” You moan as he flicks your clit and you pull him into a hungry kiss.

“You’re mine, noona.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls you up onto the counter-top, wedging himself between your legs. You don’t get the chance to ask him to fuck you before he’s already sliding into your wet heat. How is he hard again so fast? “Not his. Mine.”

You sigh, grabbing onto his ass and directing his thrusts, setting a fast pace in order to cum fast so you wouldn’t leave Minho alone for too long. “I should’ve known you’d act like this. You’re too jealous for something like this. I shouldn’t have humored you.”

“Sex is just sex, but this is different. I don’t like seeing you fussing over him like this. I don’t wanna share you, noona.”

“You’re not sharing me.” You kiss your way up his neck and along his jawline. When you reach his lips, you pull back ever so slightly so your noses are still touching. “Look at me, baby. I’m yours only.”

His hips stutter at your words and he moans helplessly. “Fuck, say that again.”

You smile in amusement at how much that affects him. Putting your lips next to his ear, you drawl, “I’m yours, Sungie.”

“And I’m yours, noona.” He professes, sticking his hand between you to rub you off quickly so you’d cum together. Your thighs shake as your orgasm rushes through you, and the way you clench around him pushes him over the edge too, his cock filling you up with his cum and his sweet moans bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

You lay quietly in each other’s arms for a minute, the sound of your panting gradually tapering off until everything is silent.

“He’s sleeping on the couch, right?” Jisung disturbs the silence with his sullen question.

“Sungie…”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m sleeping in the middle.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: Can you tell I gave up on it? anyway this is the final part so there will be no more parts of this. I loved this series but I’m done with it lol. Anyway let me know what you think of the final chapter. did it live up to your expectations or would you rather I never posted it? skskskks

#jisung smut #minho smut #jisung scenarios #jisung fanfics #jisung imagines #minho scenarios #minho imagines #minho fanfics #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfics #stray kids imagines

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innaminitus · 4 years

Text

White wolf

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request: Hello! May I request a Geralt of Rivia smut about prompt 31? Reader is from a good family that is hosting Geralt because they required his services. They have lots of children, including reader, and they are very overbearing parents. She is always obedient in front of them, but cannot stand them, and the handsome brooding Geralt arrives! Thank you!

and

Hi I love your works so so much!! Could you please do a Geralt with thigh riding or cockwarming pls thank you !!! (both from anon)

Warnings: smut, like, really bad plot

Word count: 1982

A/N: i should be studying so i’m writing. who needs to pass these exams anyway?

Gods damn this rain, these puddles and your father, who ordered you to pick up some boletes for supper, as if you didn’t have servants to do such things. You’ve only found three before it started to rain like hell, not leaving a single dry string on you and blurring your sight. Your shoes were also wet within seconds, getting sucked by slimy mud. The sky was suddenly dark and it definitely was going to get worse than just this rain. The storm was coming and you were far from home. Great.

You walked through the forest, barely seeing anything, with water flowing to your eyes and hair sticking to your forehead. You were either going to freeze to death or drown in that rain. Or get lost completely and get eaten by wolves. That was the least optimistic option and you very much hoped you would not meet any wolf on your way back.

You almost thought that your situation wasn’t hopeless until you slipped on the mud and fell on the ground, hitting your leg hard on the rock. You cried, turning on the ground and grasping the leg. You got nauseous when you saw blood dripping through your fingers.

“Gods help me…”

Did wolves smell blood? You hoped they did not, because in that case you were dead.

You heard some noise through the noise of the rain and with heavy breath and raging heart waited for something to show up. You tried to stand up and held the nearby tree. Your leg hurt awfully, the heat of the blood and wound was the only thing keeping you from freezing.

What you saw was a horse and a big figure riding it; the rain created a halo around white hair. He jumped off the horse and walked to you. From up close he wasn’t so scary.

“Are you alright?” He asked, narrowing his eyes to see better.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t mind me. I often hug trees in the rain with bleeding leg.”

You could swear you saw a smile on his face.

“Well then, I shall go away. I wish you pleasant day.” He turned away and wanted to walk back to his horse.

“Oh, for gods’ sake, wait!” You tried to approach him but almost fell. The mud was very efficiently making it even harder for you to walk. He turned to you with raised eyebrow. “Will you help me?”

You realized it was probably unwise to ask a stranger to help you, but your situation was not the best and you really didn’t see yourself spending the night in the forest.

“I will,” he laughed and with one move picked you up and almost threw on the horse, which made a funny sound at the sudden weight. He jumped behind you and pleasant warmth surrounded your back. “Where should we ride?”

“Mayor’s house. I’m his daughter. I’m Y/N, by the way.” He moved the rein and the horse moved. “Will you tell me your name?”

His chest against your back was very nice indeed, and you were quite satisfied to be leaning on him.

“Geralt.”

“Wait, like the Witcher?” You tried to look at him, but in this position it was hard to do.

“Exactly like the Witcher,” he said and you could hear amusement in his voice.

“Oh, wow. The white wolf himself, rescues a girl from the mud and rain.” You nodded. “I should probably shut up before you push me off this horse.”

He only laughed again. So you’ve met a wolf, after all.

The ride was shorter than you expected and when you reached your home your father run outside to meet you.

“What happened?! What did you think, going out in such weather?!” He helped you to get off the horse. You didn’t say anything about it being his stupid idea. “Thank you, good sir,” he said to Geralt when you stood on the ground. Well, almost, because the leg was hurting like hell and you could barely stand straight. “This girl… Always causes trouble! And you, sir, must stay for the night! There is no need for you to stay in the inn.”

Geralt nodded and got off the horse as well.

“Oy! Boy!” Your father shouted to one of the men taking care of the horses. “Feed the horse and take care of it!” He completely forgot about you and grabbed Geralt’s arm to drag him inside the house. You limped behind them, imagining your sight could kill and piercing you father’s dad with it. “My wife you see, makes the absolute best pork ribs…”

When Geralt was dry and in a well lit room, you could clearly see how handsome he was. He didn’t talk much, but everything he said was witty, as if there was a lot of things going around in his head, but he wasn’t eager to express any of them.

You were quick to grow fond of him, especially in his deep voice and smirk he showed from time to time. Oh, and his amber eyes. And the jawline. Well, you liked pretty much everything in him, but who could blame you? He was the most handsome men you’ve ever met and you were sure that under his clothes he was even more impressive.

Your sister was bandaging your leg when he and the rest of your family were finishing dinner.

“So he’s the famous Butcher of Blaviken?” She asked, trying very hard not to look at him.

He could butcher my pussy if he wanted to.

“He is.” You nodded. “I was lucky he found me.”

“I hope we won’t have any distress because of it.”

“This girl, she’s the eldest, you see, but she doesn’t want to get married!” You overheard your father and rolled your eyes. “One would think that’s what woman is made for, to get married and bear children, but no!”

“I know many powerful women who are more than fine without a man,” Geralt said calmly and you felt a warm feeling towards him.

“She’s obedient child, I tell you, but a difficult one,” your father kept speaking as if he didn’t hear the Witcher. “I say she needs a man with a heavy hand to keep her in her place.”

Geralt murmured something and got up, saying something about leaving in the morning. He walked past you and sent you a ghost of a smile before climbing up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom your mother prepared for him. A little further than the bedrooms of you and your family, “just in case if he brings trouble”.

You couldn’t sleep that night, the thought of the handsome man was more than enough to keep you awake. Awake and horny when you started to wonder about how his hands would feel on your body, how his fingers would pull your hair to give him access to your neck…

You weren’t sure where you found the courage to leave your room, but there you were, walking careful to not stand on your wounded leg for too long, walking down and up the stairs to reach Geralt’s bedroom in the attic. You knocked silently, but got no response, so you opened the door and slipped inside. It was complete darkness, only a small window was letting the moonlight in.

The Witcher was sleeping, with one hand behind his head, and, to your delight, with no shirt. He wasn’t covered with blanket, the night was really warm. You walked to him.

“Geralt,” you whispered.

“What?” His eyes were still closed, but he must’ve been awake from the moment you walked into his room.

“I came to say thank you.”

“This is odd hour to do so.”

“It’s not, you’ll see.”

You were either really stupid, or really confident, because you climbed on top of him. Probably the first one.

He opened his eyes in an instant, but wasn’t surprised nor angry at your actions. He just slowly moved his hands to your thighs, crumpling your nightgown in his fingers.

“How’s your leg?” He asked, slowly rolling the fabric to reach your bare skin.

“Hurts like hell,” you sighed when he got to the hem of your dress and gently caressed the skin under it.

“Then you better be careful with it.”

“I will.”

You leaned in the same moment as he rose, your lips met somewhere in the middle. You cupped his face and deepened the kiss, shivering at the sensation of his warm skin against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth just when his fingers travelled up your thigh. He groaned when he found out you had no underwear on.

He wasn’t going to play. Your nightgown was off within seconds, exposing your naked form in front of him, one of his hands touched your hardening nipple, making you sigh and kiss him even more passionately. He moved slightly, you were now sitting on his thigh, almost dripping onto it from the excitement you felt.

His hands slid to your hips, he forced you to grind onto him. A soft moan escaped your lips at the feeling, he swallowed it with his, kissing you fiercely. He was guiding you as you rode his thigh, electricity was rushing through your veins, destroying every sensible thought you’ve had. His leg was completely wet from your juices, only making you grind onto him harder. One of his hands grabbed the side of your neck and pulled you for a kiss, his tongue darted into your mouth, not letting you go even when bits of pleasure started to build into orgasm. Electricity turned into lightning bolts when ecstasy hit you hard and he silenced you with his lips, not letting you make any loud sound that would wake anyone up.

He let you go when you calmed yourself down a bit and with one move turned you, so your back met the mattress. He took of his underwear, freeing his impressive length, hard and dripping for you.

Geralt positioned himself between your legs and thrusted into you rapidly, painfully stretching your walls. He gave you a second or two to adjust and started to move, slowly at first, turning the pain into pleasure. He was pulling almost entirely only to push himself balls deep into your heat, each time making you moan a little louder.

“You have to be quiet,” he said hoarsely, fastening the pace.

You nodded, not being able to form letters into words and wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer. His chest was almost pressed against yours as he thrusted in you, faster and faster, reaching the point where you simply could not be silent anymore.

At another loud moan he covered your mouth with his hand, leaning to your ear. He didn’t say anything, just bit your earlobe slightly before moving to your neck, leaving wet marks everywhere he could reach.

You moved your hips to his pace, trying not to lose your mind just yet, to make it last longer, as long as possible, but it was too hard when his cock was reaching the best spots, and his abdomen rubbing on your oversensitive clit with each move.

Orgasm hit you once more, this time even harder than before, shattering you whole, turning you into whining mess. He was just behind you, his moves became uncontrollable, he was pounding fiercely into you, biting on your shoulder to not make any sound. Your legs were shaking and hips were moving when you milked him entirely, the warmth of his cum spilling deep inside of you made you shiver even more.

He stayed like this for a moment before he pulled out and lied next to you on a small bed.

“So,” you were breathing so heavy it came out as a sigh “thank you for your help.”

“You are very much welcome.”

___

tag lists:

💞: @taylorswiftloverforever13 @thomasfoockinshelby @kaylig02@daddyloki @it-jinxed-us @themusingsofmany @randomlea @annakohanasworld @theunofficialduke @prismroot-starlight0@deathofmissjackson@tricksterwinchester @villanellevi @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @forgoshsake-watchyourlanguage @grace-barnes-13 @starofthedawn @superconfusedandreadytorumble @glimmerlove9 @emmandhercoffecrisp @dancingunicorn113 @kaylig02 @jesseswartzwelder

🖤 - @winterpoohbear @emmandhercoffecrisp @moonlightreetops @smokahuntis

#geralt x reader #witcher x reader #geralt x reader smut #geralt x y/n #witcher x reader smut #witcher x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x y/n smut #witcher x y/n smut #geralt x you smut #witcher x you smut #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #the witcher imagine #witcher imagine

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aellynera · 4 years

Text

Slingshot (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

SLINGSHOT

(this was inspired by the song “Slingshot” by Ellis Paul, which i think is one of the loveliest love songs ever written, and is something i could hear Llewyn playing on his guitar.)

Word Count: 2412(ish)

Summary: There are many different kinds of storms. Some are fierce, some are quieter, and some walk around with a name and show up in your apartment at three o’clock in the morning.

Warnings: Not really. Maybe a bad word or two.

It was late, almost three in the morning, and you had tried all you could to fall asleep. Mindlessly watching some TV. Listening to soft music on your old second-hand record player. Hot shower. Hot cup of tea. Cold shower, since it was getting more humid outside and therefore hotter in your apartment. Glass of water. Another shower, but just warm instead of hot.

Still awake.

You sighed and filled the kettle again, preparing to make another cup of tea. You knew it was probably useless, but thought perhaps, just maybe, it would work this time. At least your lip had stopped bleeding and the side of your face was now a dull throb instead of the excruciating, blinding torment it had been a few hours ago.

You sighed as you set the kettle on the heating stove and turned to search for a clean mug. There was exactly one, of the entire three you owned, that wasn’t in the sink to be washed. Grabbing it, you unceremoniously tossed a tea bag in as you waited for the kettle to boil. And then you almost dropped it when you heard a voice coming from the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”

You sighed as you just barely managed to keep a grip on the mug. Dropping it and watching it shatter across your kitchen floor would have made this horrible day infinitely shittier. You should have been more surprised but the sudden appearance, but in all honesty, you really were not. It was more surprising that it was about to rain. The weather had been calm and tranquil no more than twenty minutes ago.

“Llewyn!” you hissed. “What the hell.”

He motioned over his shoulder towards the living room. “I was passin’ through, and I saw your window was open and it’s about to start pouring, and I figured maybe I didn’t have to get drenched so I came up the fire…” he paused as you closed your eyes and blew a breath out your nose. “Baby, what happened?”

You turned back to the stove. You forgot about your lip and winced when you went to bite it. Thank god your back was turned and he didn’t see it. All you wanted was to go to sleep and this was the last thing you needed right now. He was the last thing you needed right now.

“Don’t you baby me, Llewyn Davis. I haven’t seen you for weeks and now you...technically, you just committed a B&E, and you scared the shit out of me.” He didn’t, really. More like annoyed the shit out of you, after the day you’d had and the fact that you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

He huffed. It sounded slightly offended. “No I didn’t. Well, not the breakin’ part, anyway. Sorry if I scared you though.”

“Llewyn, you came in my window. Unannounced. No warning.”

“But there was no breaking,” he stressed, “because your window was open. So yeah, I only entered. Christ, anyone coulda come in here.” He motioned over his shoulder again and leaned on the doorjamb, idly picking at a stray thread on his glove.

An annoyed sort of squawk left your lips as you put the mug on the counter and pushed past him into the living room. Oh for the love of...you could do this, you could do this. Count to ten. Breathe. Think of harmless, inconsequential things like puppies and unicorns and daisies. Anything except how frustratingly...frustrating...the man in front of you could be. And how he’d disappeared for weeks and now just entered your apartment at nearly three o’clock in the damn morning like it was nothing.

But with Llewyn, it was never nothing. That was the problem.

“The window is open because it’s hot and it gets stuffy in here. And you didn’t answer my question,” you snapped, even as you pushed the window closed, maybe just a little harder than you meant to. You snapped the lock shut for good measure.

Llewyn shrugged, still eyeing your slightly swollen cheek and puffy lip. “I was around, just, y’know...and then I went to Chicago for a little while, and…”

“Chicago?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, long story.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away for a second. But it was only a second before his deep, dark eyes were back on you.

“They usually are, with you.”

“I write songs and stories, what can I say. Seriously, what happened to your face?”

You sighed and flopped onto the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it to your chest. The sky outside was lighting up, rapid streaks of energy piercing the falling darkness. Fitting for how your whole night was still going. “It’s nothing. A couple of drunks got into a fist fight and I got caught in the crossfire.”

Now Llewyn raised an eyebrow. Both of them. “Things gettin’ more exciting at the Gaslight since I’m outta town? Christ, I didn’t realize folk music was so explosive.” He moved over to the couch and sat down next to you.

“Folk music, not so much. Stray elbows to the face, a little more so.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He reached a hand toward your cheek and you flinched. “Hey, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His voice was soft. So soft.

The kettle whistled shrilly and you sighed, started to get up. Llewyn stopped you and stood himself, then placed a kiss to the top of your head and went into the kitchen.

“Whose ass do I have to kick?” he asked as he poured boiling water from the kettle.

You snorted. “What, you gonna take on all the drunks in the Village?”

“If I have to. You gotta put the lunatics back in place when they think they’re runnin’ the shop.”

He came back into the living room and handed you the steaming mug of chamomile tea. You took it carefully from him and inhaled some of the steam as he returned to the spot next to you on the couch. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back against your shoulder.

Thunder rumbled loudly, the lightning strike that caused it close enough to make your window shake. It rolled in on itself several times, the sound slowly draining away as the air temporarily settled again.

You considered this for a few minutes as your earlier irritation with him began to dissolve. Llewyn was hard to figure out sometimes. He was cynical and rude and prone to misanthropy on a fairly disturbing level; on the other hand, he could be hopeful and sweet, caring and at times even romantic. You were used to him coming and going, it was just part of who he was, but honestly...you wished more often than not that he would just stay. Things felt more right when he stayed.

You took a sip of tea and turned your head towards him, offering a wan smile. “I’m fine, really. It was just a couple drunk preppies. I can take down drunk preppies.”

He smiled back. “I know you can. You’re tough as shit. I wouldn’t wanna meet you in some dark alley. I’m just sayin’...I got your back, you know. If you need backup, I’m your guy.”

You hid your smile behind the mug now. “What are you gonna do, beat them over the head with your guitar?”

“Hell no. Jesus, what do you think I am, some kind of savage?” You had to giggle. Llewyn honestly did look offended now, at the mere thought of any damage coming to that beloved instrument.

“Nah, my nephew Danny gave me his slingshot. I’ll make sure I always have it in my pocket with a couple of rocks,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “Pop the drunk preps in the head a few times, get their attention. Maybe get ‘em to stop being douchebags.”

The laugh that was about to escape your lips stuck in your throat when you looked at Llewyn again, really looked, and saw the turmoil reflected in his eyes. He was trying to be light, but there was definitely a heaviness that overshadowed his mood.

The sky outside finally broke and rain lashed wildly at your window. A flash lit up the room briefly, followed by another resounding boom that rattled the pane of glass in its frame. And then the lights went out.

“Shit,” you muttered, finding the side table in the darkness and putting your mug down. You slipped your shoulder out from under Llewyn and started to get up. “I have candles in the drawer by the sink.”

“I know where they are, I got it,” he replied, getting up before you could. He went to the kitchen in the nearly pitch black, like he could see in the dark. You heard the drawer open and him rummage around, and then he was back in the living room, lighting a candle with his cigarette lighter and placing it on your coffee table.

You couldn’t quite explain the twinge you felt in your chest at his actions. It felt so casual, so normal, that he just knew where things were in your apartment because he was there often enough. That tickle of thought that I wish he would just stay crept into the back of your brain again.

You said nothing as Llewyn settled back down on the couch again. This time, he reached over and pulled on you gently so you were laying your head on his shoulder. The breath you let go was deep and entire, as if it were coming all the way up from the tips of your toes. He idly stroked your hair as the elements continued to thrash against the walls around you.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. You just watched the candle flicker and listened to the rain steadily bounce off the window.

“Sorry I disappeared on you,” Llewyn finally said, his voice low and quiet.

“You wanna talk about Chicago?” you asked, leaning into his warmth, not taking your eyes off the dancing flame of the candle.

You felt his shoulder move slightly as he shook his head. “Not really.”

You fell into silence again. The light touch of his fingers on your hair and the sound of the rain outside began to make your eyes heavy. The air inside was getting stuffy, from a combination of the humidity outside and the gentle heat from Llewyn’s arms and chest. The last bits of tension eased out of your limbs and you swore your face even stopped aching as much. Finally.

“You ever think about getting out of here, for real though?” your words were becoming tinged with sleep, soft and low and nearly a whisper.

“Out? Where would we go?” Llewyn chuckled, tilting his head down to place the lightest kiss on top of your hair.

We. He said where would we go, not where would I go, you realized. And he had apologized for leaving. You really started to wonder what had happened in Chicago.

“Dunno. Anywhere. A cabin in the middle of the woods.” Despite your suddenly sleepy comfort, a hint of amusement crept into your voice. “A hut on a beach somewhere.”

“Cabins in the middle of the woods are kind of horror movie,” he said. “And I’m not really big on sand.”

“Mmm. Okay, how about...a castle? We could build a castle somewhere, I’ll be the princess in the tower and you can be my one-man army, defending the keep with that slingshot in your back pocket,” you giggle. The rolling thunder of sleep was definitely starting to win over you now.

Llewyn stopped moving, then pulled himself out from behind you. For a few seconds you worried that you said something that was too much, that even suggesting that you be somewhere together and that he stay for once might be too much. The sudden loss of his comfort felt more stifling than the hot, uncirculated air in the room.

But he had said we, not I.

Where would we go?

Llewyn leaned over and blew out the candle. The next thing you knew, he had picked you up in his arms and was carrying you back towards the bedroom. The lights were still out, but your eyes had adjusted well enough to the dark to function. And Llewyn knew where he was going anyway.

He gently set you down on your bed and then, somewhat your surprise, stretched out next to you. Normally he would have just made his move to the couch. You made a note in your sleep-addled brain to ask him again about Chicago in the morning. Something had definitely happened, but...it could wait until morning.

He looked at you nervously, as if he were afraid you might decide to kick him off the bed and out into the storm outside. You gave him a sleepy smile and reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling it to your chest, asking him to stay. Telling him to stay.

Some of the turmoil in his eyes seemed to disappear as he realized you were not, in fact, going to kick him out. Part of you realized that the storm outside had settled, the rain had stopped, with just a few distant peals of thunder clinging to the atmosphere.

He moved closer to you, pushed a stray lock of hair off your face, and kissed your forehead. “Don’t need a castle,” he whispered. “I got my princess. And I’ll protect this with a whole lot more than just a slingshot.”

“You sound like you’re writing a song,” you sighed. You turned onto your side and curled up into his chest.

“Hmm, maybe. That’s what I do,” he smiled into the dark.

“Llewyn…” you mumbled, the last flicker of consciousness slipping from you as the last flares of the storm outside faded away, “Stay.”

There was a magic cure for your sleeplessness and your pain. It wasn’t mugs of chamomile tea or warm baths or vapid images on your television screen. It was thunderstorms and mysteries and open windows by your fire escape.

It was Llewyn.

The last two things you were aware of were his arms slipping around you to hold you close and his hushed reply.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

~end~

tag list: @anetteaneta @darksideofclarke @girlwiththemostcake @rosemarysbaby13

(if you would like to be tagged in future fics, just let me know!)

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #fanfic #writing #song fic #i love this man with all my soul

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

How long is forever?

*Tom Hiddleston x reader*

Parts: Oneshot

Words: 4.2k

Genre: flufffff

Imagine: You catch Tom's interest at Comic Con

Request: by @my-mind-was-lostintranslation I rly hope this is something you will enjoy 💗 I just never end up writing requests the obvious way 😂

______________________________

You had been reluctant about agreeing to come along. Reluctant about the entire idea of going to Comic Con, about buying tickets for way too much money, about your somewhat-friends wanting to randomly crash with some people they would surely meet instead of getting an overpriced hotel, about your one friend making you wear this skimpy green Loki dress because she thought it would go along nicely with your tattoos and skin color. And still, some demon had planted the seed of hope in your brain and thus you found yourself coming along, hoping to meet the only person at this convention you actually found any interest in. Tom Hiddleston.

You were dressed as one of his characters after all, even if not entirely by choice. Sure, you had seen his movies and shows and enjoyed his acting quite the deal, but what truly fascinated you about him was his own person. His character and opinions, smart thoughts and deep questions. He just seemed like a person you would love to get to know, for surely he was more interesting than any of your other acquaintances (maybe even than the friends you were here with… it was more of a community of purpose than a real friendship after all). And listening to Tom's panel was probably the closest you would get to spending time with a kindred mind.

Unfortunately your friends were more the anime and manga kind of people, definitely more than you were at least, and thus you found yourself going to Tom's panel alone. You weren't one of those girls who would sell their soul to sit in the front, or to ask questions… no, you were content sitting in the middle of the room and just letting life happen around you.

As an artist yourself, you had originally been fairly interested in the artwork you would get to see here, but all too soon you had been severely disappointed by the few artists who had even bothered to come to a rather small con like this at all. That someone like Tom was present for the day bordered on a miracle, really, considering the size of the convention. Maybe he had been in the region for shooting whatever film he was currently working on?

As you sat in the middle of the audience room, waiting for the panel to start, you found yourself mesmerized by the lightning situation on stage. It hit the objects in such a way that they just begged you to be turned into art… and you didn't have anything else to do anyway. So, thinking that you maybe just should've gone to the museum instead of this convention, you dug a black pen out of your bag, along with a small blank paper notebook and started sketching with a content sigh.

Once the panel started, having someone else talk first before Tom would come on, you went on to also sketch the portrait of the panel's host and the first guest, for listening was just easier while drawing. And when finally the time had come, and Tom was greeted on stage with thundering applause, you found yourself smiling to yourself as you flipped the page of your notebook to start on a portrait finally worth drawing.

_______________

Tom was tired. Very tired indeed, as he had been urged to come to the convention impossibly early despite having spent most of the night traveling and doing interviews. And now he was to go out onto the stage and smile and chat with people while pretending not to fall asleep any minute. It had been easy enough to smile and say hi and bye in a sinus curve of repetition while signing pretty much whatever people had brought, but now he actually was supposed to talk some sense, and avoid spoilers, and preferably also do some subtle and appealing PR for his newest movie. However all he really wanted to do was to have a nice cup of tea and get some sleep. But this was work, and this wasn't even half as bad as his tired brain made it out to be. He liked talking to people, to fans and interviewers and host, after all and this surely would be fun.

So he really only had to fake a smile for the first three seconds as he walked onto stage, for he had to smile for real from then on. It was a smaller convention, but the room was packed nonetheless. He enjoyed the fact that he could actually see the audience for once, and not only a black pit of murmurs and occasional flashing lights. It made the whole thing way more pleasant, and as he shook hands with everyone and sat down, he actually felt comfortable and ready to have a nice chat.

He answered some questions about the movie he was working on, had a couple laughs with the host, and then some time to let his eyes wander through the audience while the other guest was being interviewed. It wasn't a habit, really, but he liked to count the number of character he recognized from people's costumes. It was a good way to check if his pop culture knowledge was severely lacking or only minorly lacking currently.

His eyes flew over the audience members quickly but intently, and he found himself smiling in excitement a couple times whenever he spotted someone dressed as Loki. But otherwise, the crowd wasn't unusual in any way, to his eyes… Until they fell upon a young woman in a green sleeveless dress, scribbling something into a journal. Her eyes moved from the stage to the book, back and forth, again and again, as her hand moved quicker than Tom could begin to follow. She had drawings, tattoos, on her shoulders and arms, but Tom couldn't really tell what they depicted nor if they were real or part of the costume. But he could tell that, as his eyes moved on over the audience, they were drawn back to her within seconds, again and again. He tried ignoring her, scanning the rest of the audience part by part, but it was of no use… his eyes would always revert back to the girl.

She was still drawing, or writing maybe… Tom couldn't tell. But the tiredness in his brain was washed away more and more the longer he watched her, inspecting both her actions and her appearance.

The dress probably was supposed to be a costume of some kind, but not a particularly good or detailed one… more of a jersey dress than a costume created with effort. Nothing that would cause his mind to cling onto her so much.

Suddenly every thought was stilled in the depth of his mind, as her eyes moved back to the stage and found his own. It had been merely accidental on both ends, he could tell by her surprised look, but now that their eyes had locked, Tom found himself unable to tear his gaze away. So did she, and they remained entirely focused on each other in complete stillness.

"Tom? You still with us, buddy?" The host's amused voice came crashing into Tom's muted mind and he almost jumped a little as his eyes left hers to look at his fellows on the stage. Gosh, he had completely forgotten that he was still very much on public display… no sleep wasn't too kind on his brain.

"I'm so sorry." Tom replied with an apologetic, breathless laugh. "What did you say again?"

For the next fifteen minutes, Tom answered the fans' questions. Ever so often, his eyes would flick back to the girl in the green dress for a mere second before coming back to the person he was actually speaking to. It wasn't very polite, he knew that, but he just couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop his mind from returning to her whenever chance allowed him. Unfortunately he didn't meet her eyes again, and the intriguing, time stopping experience from before remained a singularity.

Why couldn't she be asking him a question? Tom would've loved to speak to her, for whatever reason. Maybe just to hear her voice. Maybe to find out why he couldn't stop looking at her, wondering about her…

The questions that were asked, as usual, ranged from the boring things people could just have googled to the slightly more interesting things such as his favorite book quotes. But yet again, there was nothing all too interesting, nothing Tom really had to focus on too much. It was rare that people asked him things he actually needed to think about, but maybe that was due to the brief nature of the convention. Question, answer, next. In under a minute. Yes, maybe it was Tom himself who was too demanding in the things that would interest him. Still, he was grateful for everyone who bothered to come to his panel and to ask him a question, no matter how boring the question itself was. Just seeing the joy in people's faces when he answered them would be enough on most days to make him happy indeed.

But today, it wasn't enough. He found that while it did fill him with joy to see people being happy about his answers, he couldn't quite be content as long as he still hadn't spoken to the girl. At least hear her ask a question… since real conversation was so rare at con.

"I'm afraid we're running out of time." The host declared sadly, drawing Tom out of his thoughts. "That was the last question."

A loud round of disappointed 'ooh's from the audience made Tom smile ever so slightly, until his eyes met the girl's once more, causing his features to relax into neutral curiosity.

"Any last words, Tom?" The host asked dramatically, laughing at his own exaggeration.

"Actually…" Tom started, thinking that at least this once he would actually make use of him being a celebrity and thus having the ability to do a great deal of things that weren't planned and that would thereby cause chaos for other people. But he couldn't help it. "Actually, I would like to ask a question too."

"A question? To… to someone in the audience?" The host rose his eyebrows and Tom nodded, upon which the former continued. "Uhm, well, go ahead then. A question from Tom Hiddleston, everybody!"

People clapped and cheered for a moment and Tom turned in his chair to face the audience, to face the girl he was so keen on getting to know. Her eyes were back on the journal, jumping back back forth between the item in her lap and Tom on the stage.

"My question…" Tom started, heart picking up speed rapidly. What was he doing here…? Causing Luke problems, most likely. "My question is for the girl in the green dress who has been scribbling in her notebook for the entire duration of this panel. Twelfth row from the back, right in the middle."

The spotlight that had previously been fixed on the audience microphone moved over the crowd, until it halted right on the mysterious girl Tom meant to talk to. She looked up from her notebook immediately, looking around herself in mild panic first and then staring right back at Tom like a deer in the headlights.

Tom's stomach dropped, twisting in nervousness… he hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable, hadn't thought about putting her on display like that. Gosh, he really should've put more thought into this, he usually put way too much thought into everything… but now he had to follow through with it either way. What did he want to ask again…? Her eyes fixed on his had his heart skipping multiple beats and his mind fall silent for a moment… until he remembered that everyone was staring at him expectantly. He still hadn't come up with a question.

"Alright, my question for you is…" He paused very briefly, wondering how he could find out who she was with only one single question. But then again… maybe he only had to find out if getting to know her would be worth the trouble. "How long is forever?"

_______________

Murmuring erupted in the audience room around you, and your heart beat so fast that it almost jumped out of your ribcage. Was this really happening? Everyone was looking at you… some people were even filming the whole thing. And everyone was waiting for your answer. Great… How long was forever indeed? Right now, every moment that passed with Tom looking at you felt like an own eternity. That's when it clicked in your mind.

"Sometimes, just one second." You replied loud enough to be heard all the way to the front, actually pushing yourself to get over your nervousness. Easier said than done… you felt like fainting. Luckily you were sitting already, otherwise your knees just might have given in. And when Tom started smiling at you widely a second later, your insides turned into a mushy goo of nerves and excitement and tingles.

"Thank you." He said with the most adorable expression, and you bit your bottom lip to keep from grinning. Surely, you had noticed how he'd looked at you a couple times throughout the panel, but you had thought you'd imagined it. That he had looked at everyone that way.

But when your eyes had met, it had sent a bolt of liquid lightning through your veins, flooding your body with a new kind of excitement. Then he had gone on to say he meant to ask one single question to someone in the audience, and you had been sure it wouldn't be to you. Obviously you'd been wrong about that.

Almost in a haze, you observed how the host thanked Tom and the other guest for coming, before ushering both out of sight. The lights on stage went out, the ones in the audience room brightened, and people around you started to leave as if your heart hadn't just almost exploded.

Well, that certainly had been something. Didn't happen to you every day that people wanted to quote Alice in Wonderland with you, and even less that someone actually talked to you willingly, and still even less that this someone was a person you actually wanted to talk to as well. And yet even less that the person happened to be Tom Hiddleston. You closed your eyes for a moment to calm down.

Now that the adrenaline was slowly letting you breathe normally again, you flipped your notebook shut and stuffed it into your bag together with the pen, wondering why exactly he had asked YOU, out of all people, THIS question, out of all the things he could've asked. Your friends would never believe this.

Once you felt like you could actually walk again, you rose to your feet and made your way to the exit, only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

With a frown you turned around, believing you might have lost something maybe, only to find a man in a suit standing in front of you. Your frown deepened.

"Excuse me, but you're the girl Tom asked that odd question, right?" He asked politely, withdrawing his hand from your shoulder the second you turned around.

"It wasn't an odd question, it was Alice's question to the white rabbit. But yeah, that was me." You replied before you could stop yourself from being a smartass, looking at the man curiously. He wore one of those badges that gave him access to the VIP and backstage areas… obviously he belonged to the staff. The suit alone was a poor indicator of that, after all… someone in a suit at Comic Con could also just be a man in black, or whatever incarnation of the doctor or anything really. His suit looked too expensive to be a costume though.

"Would you mind coming to the VIP area with me? Tom, that nut, begged me to do whatever it takes to get you over there and I really don't want to have him running around out here himself. Who knows what mischief he may cause..." The man sighed with a small smile and you felt your cheeks heating up. Tom wanted to talk to you. For real. What?!

"Uhm… Of course, I mean… sure?" You replied insecurely, and the man in the suit sighed in relief before walking ahead and motioning for you to follow. Three minutes later you had passed on into a different hall and ventured past a couple security guards, finally coming to an area that was completely closed off to the public. You felt only minorly nervous now, and mostly curious. Without a thousand people staring at you, it was way easier to think.

The man in the suit led you towards a group of people standing in a loose circle, talking and laughing. You actually recognized most of them from movies or TV shows as you quickly went over their faces, looking around until your eyes fell upon Tom. As he saw you approaching, his eyes lit up and he smiled in your direction.

"You owe me." The man in the suit said to Tom as you came to stand in front of him at last. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I would never!" Tom replied to him with a grin, upon which he rolled his eyes.

"I'm keeping an eye on you, Hiddleston." The man grinned back as he turned to leave again.

"That's what I'm paying you for!" Tom called after him, laughing and shaking his head to himself before finally looking at you with a small smile. "Hi."

"Hey." You replied, unable to keep from smiling yourself. "Did I answer correctly?"

"Oh, you did for sure. Don't worry."

"Good." You chuckled, looking to your feet for a second and then back at the man in front of you. Gosh, he really was too handsome for his own good.

"Am I making you nervous?" He asked reluctantly, giving you an almost concerned look.

"I'm not starstruck, if that's what you mean." You replied easily, actually not feeling nervous at all for once. "I'm just wondering why I'm here."

"Because I'm curious about you." Tom smiled, and you could swear that he was blushing a little bit. It looked rather adorable and your heart skipped a beat. "What's your name?"

"I'm Y/n." You replied lightly, taking in all the small details about him that you hadn't been able to see from the distance before.

"Y/n… that's a lovely name. I'm Tom."

"Yeah, I know." You laughed, biting your lip to keep from grinning too widely. Whether he was trying to make you relaxing by humor or if he really was just a dork, you found yourself to be comfortable with him.

"Of course you do…" He laughed too, looking down to the ground and shaking his head to himself. Oh, he was definitely blushing now, and it was freaking adorable.

"You observed me during the panel, didn't you?" You asked calmly, trying to ease his embarrassment a bit by changing the topic.

"I did indeed." He gave you an apologetic smile as he motioned for you to take a seat on the couch, before sitting down across from you. "I just couldn't help it."

"And here I was, thinking I'm making things up." You chuckled.

"What were you scribbling in that notebook the entire time? If you don't mind me asking..." He inquired curiously, eyes searching and finding yours. Somehow they held the power to stop time for you and leave you feeling completely mesmerized. Tom seemed to experience a similar thing, for he only kept looking at you while you looked back at him for a second bearing your own forever. Until someone dropped something on the concrete floor very loudly, making both of you jump.

"I… I was just sketching some random objects, some people…" You finally replied as you found your words again. "Nothing special."

"So you're an artist? Here at the convention?"

"Yes, and no. I am an artist, but not in a million years famous enough to be invited to con." You laughed, taking in the sincere interest in Tom's expression. It'd been such a long time since anybody had looked at you like that...

"May I take a look at today's work?" He asked with so much hope that there was no way you could've said no to him. Whatever it was he would ask of you.

So you handed him your journal, and he flipped the pages open at your bookmark. That would be the portrait you sketched of him.

"Wow, this is amazing…" He remarked, frowning as he focused entirely on the drawing for a moment. "You did this in, what, fifteen minutes?"

"Yup." You shrugged, feeling your cheeks heat up yet again. "I mean, you're too tempting not to draw."

Tom's eyes shot up from the page to meet yours as he pulled up one eyebrow and grinned at you, while you only now registered what you had said, closing your eyes and biting your lip in embarrassment.

"I just meant that with you as a sitter, every portrait would look good." You tried to make it sound right, only to find Tom still grinning at you in amusement.

"Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself." Tom spoke softly, and your skin tingled pleasantly at the warm depth of his voice.

"Oscar Wilde, nice." You smirked at him, causing his eyes to light up yet again.

"You enjoy literature?"

"Probably just as much as art."

"Literature is art though, wouldn't you say?"

"It is indeed." You replied softly, smiling. "Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much."

For the next hour, or maybe rather hours –who could tell how much time passed when so lost in each other's captivating presence?– you and Tom stayed sitting on that couch, ignoring everything and everyone outside of your conversation. Talking to him was so much more than you had ever imagined, so utterly intriguing and captivating… You had completely fallen for him before you knew.

"Y/n…" Tom started, velvety voice wrapping around your senses like liquid sin. "I…"

He was interrupted by an assistant stepping up to the couch hastily, letting Tom know that he needed to get to his signing table ASAP, being twenty minutes late already. Your heart fell upon those words, more than you would've assumed, as it meant that you would have to leave too. That the little time you had with Tom had come to an end. But you wouldn't be so foolish as to assume that any of this would lead to anything more than a nice memory.

With a sad smile you couldn't really brighten up, you rose to your feet, urging Tom to do the same.

"It was truly lovely meeting you, Tom. A dream." You said gently as you stood right in front of him, the assistant having left to be of use elsewhere.

"It is your dream. You decide where it goes from here." He replied in the same soft quiet, looking down at you in both affection and reluctance. "I'm afraid I find it rather impossible to part from you. What are we to do about that?"

"You will go your way and I will go mine… And by tonight you won't remember my name, my face or my words anyway. I'm one in a million, a passing star in an entire universe of equals." You smiled at him with a heavy heart, meaning your words to be encouraging rather than saddening. "While you, Tom, you contain multitudes all by yourself."

"I'm your equal, Y/n…" He protested lightly, frowning with an almost shy smile. "I want to be."

"You do?" Your eyes widened as gentle a shiver ran down your spine.

"Of course." His smile widened for a moment, and his eyes flicked down to the small gap between you very briefly before he looked back to your eyes and let his fingers brush gently against yours. The minimal touch left your skin ablaze in an instant, scorching liquid heat running wildly through your veins. Your breath hitched, and his smile widened even more. "I have to go to my signing now, or Luke will have my head. But I'm refusing to let you go, and I would be the luckiest man in all those multitudes if you would wait for me here. I'm gonna be all yours once I return."

With your stomach in pleasant coils, and your heart in his hands already, you didn't even need to think before nodding with the happiest smile. "I will be here. How long does the signing take?"

"Sometimes, just a second, my dear." He grinned at you, giving your hand a light squeeze before jogging off to where the man in the suit was waiting for him with a roll of his eyes and a smirk. And as you watched Tom leaving, winking at you once more before he was out of sight, you already couldn't wait for his return.

______________________________

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

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Jason and Percy: beautiful, terrifying gods

Masterlist

I am so happy I managed to finish this!! It's probably the longest piece in my "baby fanfic series" that I've ever done but I lovvveeeee it! I hope with all my heart you do too <3

Also I have no idea how to add the Keep Reading thing on mobile and I cannot use my laptop right now so I'm sorry for all the scrolling. Please forgive me!

Anyway, enjoy the Dark Jercy, my loves

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The sky was the most brilliant shade of blue Percy had ever seen. It was like the ocean had found heaven, it was like the world was made only yesterday.... it was like Jason Grace's eyes.

Today was the first day of summer vacation and for once in his long and bloodied life Percy didn't have to do a damn thing. He wasn't off to camp, or summer school or on some deadly quest. No he was off to the beach to surf and then grab a bite at his favourite diner on 6th street.

It had been a long time since he had felt peace like this. And he couldn't help but breathe in deeply at every opportunity. Albeit not the best idea in New York City but it calmed something in him that had been brutal and active for so many months, years.

He stepped onto the sand, readying himself to take on a dead sprint right into those crashing waves.

And he was gone, feet sinking, ocean spraying and his board bouncing against his hip.

"Hey yo Jackson!" a voice rumbled from across the ways

Percy skidded to a halt, looking around. And then grinned a grin so dazzling Jason Grace saw stars.

There were few things more addictive in life than the ocean, and hardly anything more addictive than one certain ocean boy going for a surf.

Jason was sure he could die in this feeling.

"Yo Jase, what's up?"

"Nothing much bro, ready for the hols that's for sure."

"Tell me about it," Percy rolled his shoulders, relief shuddering through him.

"So I know you aren't going to the camps this year, what are you up to?"

Percy stared into the horizon, his eyes impossibly green, as they always were near the sea.

"I think--I think I'm just going to live." He finally said.

Jason nodded, understanding more than anyone what his friend meant, "Let me know if you need someone to share that with"

Percy smiled softly and together they walked into the waves, content to live.

Having completley lost themselves to the rhythmless rhythm of the ocean, Jason was shouting excitedly; he was on the verge of catching a really good wave.

Suddenly he was being pulled under, under, under.

It happened so quickly he didn't even have time to yell before water was filling his lungs. Unable to help but think, This is what you get for stepping into Poseidon territory.

Something grabbed his leg and yanked, pulling him from his thoughts and any hope of rescue.

Whoever- whatever- had ahold of him was dragging him into dark waters. Jason knew there wasn't much longer before he passed out but he fought and struggled against the grip on his leg, trying at the very least to kick up enough of a splash to notice it above.

Claws gripped into his skin, drawing blood, and suddenly he couldn't fight it anymore. His whole body was exhausted; he just wanted the burning in his lungs to stop, and the fire crawling up his leg to go away and most of all he wanted to sleep. A single thought rattled in his head.

I hope Percy is okay.

Jason Grace surrendered to the sweet bliss of nothing.

Percy was feeling many things: surprise, frustration, shock, and, fear— never-ending icy fear.

Where on earth did his friend dissappear to?

One minute Jason was catching a wave and the next his board was floating towards the shore.

Before Percy knew what he was doing he untied the strap from his ankle and dived into the ocean-deep.

Swimming furiously, willing his eyes to adjust to the murky darkness, and finally after too many long moments he spotted a group of creatures zapping towards the coral reefs only a few strokes away.

He was about to call out for help when he saw a flash of blond hair bobbing weightlessly between them.

Fear morphed into rage. Cold, lethal, jagged rage.

Percy Jackson was not a boy from New York who loved his mom. He was a halfblood-warrior who only lived to protect the people he loved. And by the seas he would show them how much of god was in his demigod.

He willed the currents to bend to his command and shot off like an arrow towards the monsters. In mere seconds he was upon them, using the water to tug on their limbs, the multitude that there were. He didn't pull very hard, just enough to get their attention. He wanted to face his enemies and look them in the eye before he killed them.

A gurgling hiss greeted his smirk.

"You seem to have something of mine," Percy's voice dripped sickly sweet.

"What do you want Perrcccyyy Jackson?" The one clawing Jason gurgled.

"I want my friend back thank you. He is under the protection of me and Lord Poseidon and to refuse my request would be a very, very bad idea."

The three things laughed, a vile drowning sort of cackle, "We do not answer to Poseidon and we have no obligation to you Percy Jackson"

"See I was afraid you were gonna say that," He sighed.

And without another thought Percy grabbed onto the water in their body, searching for those molecules that sung to him.

"The thing about descending from humans," He grinned manically, "Is that there's still some intricate parts of you that are just like me,"

The creature flanking Jason's limp right side, started gasping, before any of them could react Percy twisted its body obscenely and continued

"How about a quick biology lesson? Did you know that cerebrospinal-fluid is ninety-nine percent water? And I guess that's the part you share with us puny humans because—"

The monster started shaking, seizing up— Percy rushed forward and with one tap to the center of its back, a deafening crack sounded.

"CSF protects the spine and the brain and without it, your body is really really vulnerable. Now how about we give my friend back, mhm?"

That grin was so very sharp .

Jason Grace cut off the arm of the monster still holding his legs and pried those bony, slimy webs off his skin.

The monster shrieked but did not have time to react before his head was being sliced off, mouth framed in a silent cry.

"Hello Jackson, what took you so long?"

"You lucky I even came to find you. The only thing that tipped me off was your lack of incessant prying questions,"

Jason smirked, "Thanks for the air bubble, drowning sucks."

"Tell me about it," Percy rolled his eyes.

"You've drowned? How is that even possible?"

"Long story but there was a lot of mud and way too many nightmares afterwards." He shuddered

Jason nodded and then turned to their last little friend, only to find he had called for some back up.

"Honestly do they ever get tired of going to tartarus?"

"Maybe Son of Poseidon," a particularly nasty variation of whatever monster this was, piped up, "Maybe it will be you going this time?"

"Been there done that, got the trauma, try again."

They simply hissed at the two demigods and surrounded them, cackling and gurgling menacingly.

"You ready?" Jason smiled wide.

Percy's smirk made three monsters scream and flee, "I just wanted a godsdamn peaceful vacation, so let's make this quick."

With a dangerous, throaty laugh the two boys became weapons of destruction.

Jason took the left flank, following in his partners lead, but instead of using CSF he charged the ions in the monsters' blood. Flooded them with so much electricity, they just collapsed. One by one the creatures were electrocuted from the inside out.

Their eyes glowed, red and green, blindingly bright. It was like their brains were exploding. Jason watched in glee as these disgusting creatures convulsed around him.

Percy was just as intoxicated. Laughing as he broke spines, and made contortionists out of bodies.

For so long these two heroes had fought fair, but it had only gotten friends killed and hurt, it had made their wars so much longer, so much bloodier. Well no more. This was easy and painless for them, and so very very fun.

Back to back they called on lightning and water.

Percy figured out how to drown them from the inside out, Jason figured out how to make their brains short circuit. Together they learnt just how lethal lightning and water could be.

Just how beautiful crackling blue and ocean blue can look.

Together they learned to be terrifying.

When there was only swirling sand and some variation of bone around them, they finally turned to each other.

"Well that was a morning workout if I do say so," Percy breathed hard.

Jason laughed, "Come on let's go wash off the stench,"

"We're in the ocean, how much more water do you need?" Percy motioned.

"It's not so much the water as the soap Jackson,"

And as they lazily swam up, Percy using the currents to do all the hard work, the glow in their eyes slowly faded and the look of human seeped back in.

"I should really get this leg checked out," Jason frowned.

"Can't you just use your lighting and zap it better?" That green-eyed boy smirked

"Haha, not all of us can use whatever domain we control to heal."

"That sucks," He nodded sympathetically even though the sparkle in his eye told a different story "Come on we can go back to mine I have ambrosia and I think my mom just made some chocolate-chip cookies"

"You owe me for taking so long,"

"You lucky I saved your ass Grace,"

"Not as lucky as you are for having this ass to save."

"Can't argue with that logic,"

They grinned at each other, and the world trembled. They didn't notice. Lost in whatever they were, whatever they could become.

Jason and Percy: Beautiful, Terrifying Gods

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#HERE IT IS #my dark Jercy Fic #I had so much fun writing this #Dark Jercy #Dark percy #Dark Jason #Jercy #Percy Jackson #Jason grace #PJO #HOO #Percy #Jackson #Jason #Grace #Baby fanfic #Baby fanfic series

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