#like please let him fuck shit up for people whose plans were messed up anyway please let him have opinions and act on them

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Observing peoples reactions to morally gray or black actions committed by different characters is so funny. Throughout all of G. War the character tags were chock-full of people unironically enraged claiming “Bruce isn’t even capable of doing something bad like that.” about an action that is pretty well in line with his character journey thus far, meanwhile there are still new posts that gain traction that open with lines like “I know Jason has committed his fair share of sins/crimes but” like bro when. In 2010?

Also. The whole premise of the b*tfamily™ that you so love is built on the load bearing wall being that they are a crime family. Hell, do people just collectively forget the part where Bruce manufactures and freely uses weapons with his own furry brand logo plastered all over them, causing all sorts of 'explosions and more!' property damage all over the streets of Gotham? Pretty sure that makes him a terrorist but you people don't feel the need to go around reminding fandom of that every five minutes.

#as someone who loves post crisis Jason more than the average person who considers themselves a Jason fan: #how much longer are we going to pretend that’s still where we are today #to all the people who get so fucking worked up anytime Jason does something other than sit there and look pretty #what exactly do you want to see him do in comics anyway? vacuum his apartment? #like please let him fuck shit up for people whose plans were messed up anyway please let him have opinions and act on them #kelseethe #these people assume fans like Jason *despite* all his ‘wrongdoings' #when we repeatedly post about why Jason fucking with people was epic and cool and justified #while they sit there being upset that their traumatized problematic fav with a god complex #acts like a traumatized problematic bitch with a god complex lol #‘do Jason fans even know why they like his character’ seems like someone is in need of some introspection #disclaimer: l'm not a bruce anti. you know that liking a problematic character doesn't mean wanting to erase #every atrocity he committed and putting him through a redemption arc #I just have low tolerance for the utter ignorance of some of his fans lol #and that of his writers who market him as the agreeable voice of reason #while simultaneously portraying him as an abusive father + war criminal lol #the way I used the terms ‘morally gray/black’ here is subjective. #personally I don’t consider killing drug dealers/kingpins in a fictional universe morally gray because I’m not a fucking narc lol #but abusing your son for over a decade then literally breaking his brain is undeniably morally black in & out of universe

[thejudgingtrash]

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you’ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?” The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

#mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percabeth #percabeth fanfic #may I introduce you to my beloved wife #mel writes #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy and annabeth #pjo fanfic #percy jackson and the olympians #mel spoils

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

[phantaloon-books]

I was rereading the iconic reunion at baltimore and this came to me and I can't not write it (even though I have a half finished chapter waiting to be written for a fic for a whole different fandom but who cares right)

in which neil regrets realizes that the feds were on to something when they talked about witness protection program. brace yourselves, it's angst time bby. please bear with me, I don't write stuff like this, content and format wise.

so everyone knows what goes down in baltimore. everyone knows that famous college exy striker for the foxes neil josten has been the son of the butcher of baltimore all along, and that smth happened after he was kidnapped and tortured that resulted in the butcher and some associates to be killed. everyone knows that neil walked out alive, injured but alive. so when a few weeks, months later, associates of the butcher start getting raided and taken in custody, everyone knows exactly who opened his little mouth and revealed everything he knows (bc there's literally no one else who could know this stuff and would be willing to share with the fucking feds, no one has a death wish)

It's a slow process. It starts with the feeling of not being safe, which is ridiculous, because he hasn't been quite as safe as he is right now, with the foxes, his family, and most importantly with Andrew. They're on summer break, technically speaking, even if they're at campus for practice because they gotta train the new foxes. They're barely doing anything than hanging out together and training, but still Neil can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that someone is watching him, but he doesn't say anything, because it doesn't make sense, he's just being paranoid, there's no need to panic.

Neil can swear he's being watched. He feels the dread whenever he's out of the dorm, when he's out running, when they go out to eat something, when they go to the mall, on their way to practice, at Eden's. But when he looks around there's no one looking, it's been weeks and nothing has happened, he hasn't seen anyone.

Neil can tell Andrew is growing suspicious of the way he checks out a place, the way his eyes trace every corner, every exit, because he's starting to fall back in old habits, and he knows Andrew hates it. But Andrew doesn't ask, he knows that Neil will speak when he feels ready, so he lets it go, even if he can't quite let got of the worry clawing at his heart.

But everything keeps going normally, things are fine, everything is fine fine fine. Neil doesn't talk about it, but it's fine really. Until it's not fine at all, but it's also too late to talk now because his head is fuzzy and throbbing, and he feels like he might throw up and he feels pain even if he's not sure where the pain is coming from. But he can't do anything now, he can't tell Andrew how he's been feeling dread for weeks, because a man whose name he doesn't even know but whose face is awfully familiar is standing right in front of him where he lies on the floor, and the situation is also awfully familiar.

Stop being a martyr. Oh Andrew would kill him. If Neil gets out of this alive, Andrew will kill him, because he left again. He didn't want to, he really didn't. He was out on a run while Andrew was in therapy with Bee and Aaron, a couple miles away from fox tower, when a car pulled up right in front of him, two men wearing hoods and sunglasses stepping out and standing in front of him. He came to a halt, trying his best to keep calm because who the hell were these men and what did they want and for fucks sake can this just stop? It would have been smart to turn around and try to get back to the tower but he can't ever keep his mouth shut can he?

"Look I don't know who you are, I don't care what you want, but you're in my way, so move away if you know what's best." He intended to go for more sarcastic, but he was doing his best not to panic, so that had to do.

"You're coming with us, get in the car, or we'll do this the hard way." Their voices said they wouldn't hesitate, but Neil laughed anyway, that smile he knew was the Butcher's resting on his lips. Anything to make the men leave. He opened his mouth and then- "The Minyard twins are at Dr. Dobson's office. Reynolds, Walker, and Wilds are at the mall. Hemmick, Boyd and Day are in the dorms. The newbies are at the dorms as well. Come with us the easy way and we'll let them walk out of their respective places alive, Nathaniel."

And he was fucked. Of course he hadn't been safe, he would never be safe. In fact no one he cared about would ever be safe. He should have known better. But he wasn't going to let the foxes be harmed.

"How do I know you won't kill them anyway?" The snark was gone, the smile vanished. His face was blank and dangerous, because he'd done this before. "I don't even know who you are, you're obviously not the big guys, and I don't remember seeing your faces."

"We don't want to attract unnecessary attention. All we care about is you. If you come, you spare us all the trouble. As for who we are, let's just say someone is pissed at the piece of shit that ruined everything."

"The Butcher's friends then. I can't argue with that, it's a habit of mine to fuck up. Ichirou won't be too happy if something happened." He played his strongest card but fuck it. The Moriyamas owed him protection, Ichirou himself had made a deal with him.

"The moment they turned their backs to the Wesninski and made a deal with Hatford, those Japanese shits mean nothing to us." These were desperate men apparently. If the Moriyamas were nothing, the FBI was even less. "Time is running Nathaniel, decide. You or them?"

Andrew would kill him, but they'd talked about it before. Neil had told Andrew. If it means losing you, then no. He would not put himself first. Hell, he'd told the others before, the Foxes were all he had, he wasn't going to risk them for himself, not for anything. He needed to keep them safe.

So now he's lying on the cold wooden floor of some house or shed or whatever, drowsy from whatever they drugged him with once he got in the car, and in pain after being beaten for the last hour or so. He didn't bother asking the man (who is obviously in charge and sent the two men) for a name, and honestly he still doesn't plan to. What was the point of that anyway? He just looks up at the cold brown eyes of the man standing over him, Neil's face as neutral as he could keep it despite the fear of not making it out alive threatening to pull him under. The man just stares at him, calculative eyes and cruel smile, and Neil can't take it.

"What, so you're just gonna stand there? I have better shit to do." He hears the slur in his voice, wonders if it's just the drugs or something else. A concussion is likely. He's met with silence, so he closes his eyes and lays his head down. Fuck he's tired of these situations. He truly will never be safe, no one will-

"You know, I was expecting so much more from you Nathaniel," the man says with a laugh, "I was told that you'd put up a fight, I thought this would be fun. They said you'd beg for your precious life, but you haven't even made an effort."

Whoever his source was, they definitely do not know Neil, or Nathaniel for that matter. Not only is he not going to risk the men hurting the others, but he isn't going to fight, not against so many of them, not when running would be more likely to get him out alive. He isn't going to let them know that. "First go fuck yourself, and second, this isn't remotely close to entertaining to what I've been through, maybe if it was more interesting."

What does Andrew say? Regret is worthless? It seems right, because he can't find regret in what he said, even if his face is a bloody mess (what's new?) and his body shakes with shivers, after his head is held underwater so many times. No, he doesn't regret it. Instead he finds himself laughing a hollow thing.

"Y'know at least others have had a point, this time it's just for the fun of it, and it's not being much fun." His voice cracks a couple times, hoarse from coughing up water.

"You're right though, it is for fun. You cost me absolutely everything Nathaniel. Did you know the feds and the Moriyamas have been after us for months? Hunting us like we're rabbits, all because you decided to be a dipshit and open your mouth. You should be dead. You should have died ten years ago, back in March, anytime. All your existence caused us is trouble. And ratting us to the feds wasn't enough was it? No you told Ichirou all of the Butcher's men were loose ends, too." The man took a deep breath, composing himself. "So yes Nathaniel, this is for fun. This is payback, you've cost many lives, this is retribution for speaking, and I'm gonna enjoy seeing you have fun for as long as I can."

At some point, after hours, he's left alone in the dark, in the cold. He knows he’s in pain. He’s pretty sure his arm is broken, and so are several ribs. He knows he should be in a lot of pain, but he's just numb. Regret is worthless. Because even if he feels even worse than how he felt last winter at Evermore, he doesn’t regret it. He can’t be sure the guy’s men were truly going to kill the Foxes, but he doesn’t regret coming here to make sure the others don’t suffer more than they already have because of him. He wonders if Andrew will forgive him. He didn’t leave proof that he didn’t want to leave this time. Would Andrew think he left them - him? God, he hopes not. Would Andrew look for Neil or leave it thinking that Neil wanted to leave?

It doesn’t really matter, though. Neil is so tired. This time isn’t like when he was on the run or when he went to Evermore or when Lola took him. While with the Ravens, Kevin knew he was there at least, if anything were to happen, a person would know where to look somehow. At Baltimore, several people knew the most likely place to find him; Uncle Stewart, the Hatfords, Kevin again. He has no idea of where he is, or who took him, and no one knows he’s been taken in the first place. No one will ever find him.

Maybe it’s better that way, he thinks. No one will have to deal with the burden of him or his disappearance or his death, because no one will know. The simple thing would be to assume he ran. He hopes they assume he ran. Maybe they’ll be hurt, but haven’t they been expecting him to run? They won’t make it to championships without him considering Jack is an awful striker, but Kevin will manage. Andrew - Andrew is the one who expects him to run the most, maybe he’ll take it nicely. Neil hopes he takes it nicely. Guilt blossoms among the nothingness in his chest, but he can’t take it back, and he doesn’t want to. It’s better this way. No one will find him, but that’s fine. He wonders what the Moriyamas will do. He doesn’t want to think about that. He thinks of Andrew, the kisses, the care, the love, the nights spent together. Thank you, you were amazing. He wishes he could tell him how much he cares one last time. He feels something wet slip down his face. He can’t tell if it’s water, blood or tears. He sighs. He thinks of Andrew, and his eyes slip close.

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #trk #the raven king #tkm #the king's men #neil josten #nora sakavic #andrew minyard #kevin day #I'm so sorry #I don't write stuff like this I mean it my angst is very different #fanfiction #also no I didn't kill neil #it's just a goodbye of sorts #aftg fanfic #no this is not betaed or revised for that matter #half of this was written while I was in class #I was going for a prompt and ended up writing almost 2k words instead lmao #sorry I write a lot in my tags #andreil #not really but it's there

[bigboomboi]

Sparks~ Denki X reader

Words: 3984

Warning: Smut, oral sex (fem receiving), dry [wet] humping, ack idk, it’s not too dirty... think, everyone involved in sexual acts are aged up to 18.

~

~

"Y/N…"

Thump. Thump. Could she get close enough to count all of his freckles?

"Y/N."

Wow, he really had the cutest laugh. Thump. Thump.

"Y/N, I swear to god."

Thump. Thump. Did he know how attractive he was? Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Y/N! Stop hitting me with your fucking tail!" Jirou snapped, grabbing the fluffy appendage beating wildly against her leg.

"Ow, ow, ow." Y/N yelped trying to pull her tail away.

"Jirou, let go of her tail. You know it's sensitive." Uraraka scolded, not looking up from her homework.

"Yeah, well so is my thigh! And miss foxy is bruising it with her heart thumper!" Jirou huffed.

Y/N whined and tugged her tail again. "I'm sorry, please let go."

Jirou gave her tail a warning squeeze before releasing it. "Hit me with it again and I will yank it."

"Be nice." Uraraka hummed. "She can't help it."

Mina laughed. "Yeah, she sees Wattage boy and gets so excited her tail almost flies off."

Y/N whined and tucked her tail around herself. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is." The girls replied. 

"Mean…" She huffed.

"We wouldn't tease you so much if you weren't so head over heels for him." Toru giggled.

"I'm not head over heels for him… I just… like him… a bit." Y/N shrugged, willing herself not to look over when Denki laughed.

"Sure, you're not." Mina laughed and Y/N blushed.

Momo gently patted her head, while standing to grab something. "It's okay, Y/N."

"Yeah, we understand; you're in love with him!" Toru corrected. 

"No, I'm not." Y/N huffed.

"Guys, leave her alone." Uraraka warned.

"No, watch!" Jirou snickered. "Hey, boys!"

"Stop it." Uraraka finally looked up, glaring at the punk teen. 

"Wanna join our study group, we're gonna work on the history homework next!" Jirou offered, a teasing smile hiding on her lips.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that!" Kirishima said. "Thanks, J!"

"I was trying to forget about it…" Denki groaned. "I suck at history."

"That's fine, Y/N's great at history!" Mina piped.

"Guys, stop it." Uraraka snapped quietly, so as to not alert the approaching boys.

"Yeah, she's got a B in the class, right, Y/N?" Toru added. 

Y/N tried to calm her erratic heartbeat as Denki came closer. "Um, I, an A… I have an A…"

"Perfect. Here, Sparky, take my seat." Jirou offered, standing up.

Uraraka watched as Denki happily took the seat next to the jittery girl, seemingly unaware of her nerves. Sero, Kirishima, Ojiro and Midoriya filled in where they could. They all actually started to work on the history work, but the girls could only really focus on Y/N and Denki. Mina even situated herself sideways on the couch to push the two together.

Uraraka grew irritated watching Mina literally shove them together. Y/N genuinely tried to help Denki through the work, but the closer she was pushed, she was nearly in his lap. He didn't seem to mind as he shifted letting her move closer.

His arm ended up draped over the back of the couch behind her and her tail began thumping again. Of course, the girls noticed. They locked eyes with each other, not heeding the glare Uraraka gave them.

"What's got you so excited, Y/N?" Mina laughed, pulling all the attention to their area. "Your tail is gonna smash through the couch with how hard you're swinging it."

The object in question stiffened straight and the girl it was attached to turned redder than a tomato and that was the last straw for Uraraka. "Alright, guys. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I forgot Y/N and I had things planned today."

Y/N looked up at her best friend with thankful orbs. Uraraka started walking away, gently beckoning Y/N with her hand. She hopped off the couch and hurried to follow, waving a shy farewell to everyone.

Once in Uraraka's room Y/N crawled into her friend's bed and whined pitifully. Uraraka sighed, and went to her closet. She started tugging out blankets and tossed them to the bed.

Knowing Y/N for three plus years, she knew how to make the girl feel better. Y/N's quirk manifested as a Kitsune, fox spirit, several tails, godlike powers. The whole nine yards. 

With anxiety. 

"Y/N, babe… don't burrow into my actual bed, please." Uraraka pleaded gently. "You know they were only teasing, sweetheart."

Y/N huffed and peaked out of her newly made fluffy cave. "You're the one that got angry."

Uraraka sighed deeply. "Yeah, you're right. But I couldn't just leave you there… you were going to implode."

"I kinda wish you did." Y/N mumbled. "It was the closest I'd been to him, probably ever."

"They were forcing you into his arms, babes." Uraraka gently rubbed her head.

Y/N sat up and pouted. "I liked it."

"Then talk to the boy!" Uraraka laughed. "You absolutely are head over heels for him and we all know it!"

"Yeah, except the boy in question.” Y/N panicked.

Uraraka rolled her eyes. "Just talk to him if you want to be with him. Like flirt with him, that's kinda how relationships become a thing."

Y/N whined again and curled into the blankets. "Fine. I'll try. But, I get cuddles, right now."

 As promised. Y/N did try to talk to Denki. Now, trying and succeeding are two very different things.

Of course, she spoke to him, asking for pencils in class, communicating during group work, the occasional comment in a conversation at lunch. But talking as in flirting and trying to relay the fact that she had a crush on him- yeah, no. Didn't happen. At all. All she managed to do was stress herself out. 

Which brought her to her current situation. 

"Get back here you muti-tailed little fuck!" Bakugo screamed chasing the tiny fox around the dorm.

Y/N let out a screaming bark and dodged the angry pink haired teen. She slid across the floor, just narrowly escaping Bakugo's blast. She leaped over the couch and into Uraraka's lap for protection.

"I'm going to strangle you, you tiny little shit!" Bakugo growled, glaring at the four legged Y/N.

"Let's not threaten people's lives he...re…" Uraraka trailed off looking up. "Oh my god."

"Woah, dude. When did you decide to dye your hair?" Kirishima asked.

"I didn't, the fox bitch put dye in my shampoo!" He snarled. Y/N snickered, her laugh pissing him off more. "Yeah, you won’t be laughing when I blow off your extra tails!"

"I don't know, I think she did you a favor. Pastel pink, it really makes your eyes pop." Sero chuckled, before dodging the couch pillow aimed for his face. 

"Oh, come on. Don't be too upset, you know her pranks are never hurtful. It's probably temporary anyway." Momo giggled. 

Y/N laughed again but Bakugo narrowed his eyes at her, effectively shutting her up. She looked over at the few classmates sitting around her, silently begging for help. Each one adverted their eyes, playfully.

"Oh, no, Y/N, you got yourself into this mess.” Uraraka flicked her ear.

Y/N begged and whined as Bakugo glared harder at her. She wiggled herself closer to Uraraka’s chest while steadily eyeing her exit. The exit that was blocked by the new pink haired teen as he already calculated her plan.

Idiot. They were in the hero course. 

Y/N turned and looked at another way out, she’d have to haul ass, but she could probably make it. She slowly crept up onto the backrest of Urarka’s chair, keeping eye contact with Bakugo, cautiously. Three solid seconds passed before she bolted.

Bakugo cursed and followed after her. She scurried across the room quickly, yelping when his explosion singed her tails. Her escape, the open door, was feet away, but Bakugo was closer.

Suddenly she turned to her left just before she reached the door. She tumbled across the floor as Bakugo tried to alter his course but instead slipped and tumbled out the door. Y/N scrambled up to run in the opposite direction towards the dorm rooms.

She only had a slight advantage; she already heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs after her. She hurriedly ducked into one of the rooms left open, thankfully, and pushed her body against it to close it. She held her breath as he passed by the room.

After a few moments of hearing his shouts and explosions fade, she let her lungs function again and collapsed dramatically on the floor. Y/N looked around, wondering whose room she found refuge in. It was bright, a bit all over the place. Maybe a boy’s room, from the look of the shorts she found. She pawed at the article of clothing straightening it out. She looked at them, closely, slowly she leaned down to sniff them.

Suddenly, she yipped in fear and jumped away from them as the door swung open, landing on the bed. Y/N blinked at the startled electric centered boy, her tiny fox form looking completely out of place. Of course, in the midst of running from Bakugo, she found her way into Denki's room.

“Not that I’m complaining, but, uh…” Denki finally asked. "Y/N… Why are you in my room?"

She sat quiet, she was unable to respond without shifting back, but, that thought was put on the back burner as she noticed he was shirtless, droplets of water sliding down his chest. Out of pure and uttermost adoration, and slight arousal, her tails started to thump aggressively against his pillow.

Suddenly, Bakugo’s shout was heard throughout the hall and Y/N’s tails fluffed up in fear. “I’m going to assume that’s why you’re hiding in my bed, pup?”

Y/N whined and jerked her head in agreement. He laughed and closed his door completely, just in time for Bakugo to walk past. Y/N wiggled herself lower into his bed as he migrated over to his dresser.

“You gonna change back, cutie?” Denki asked pulling out a shirt, he chuckled when she shook her head. “As much as I enjoy having the foxiest little babe in the world, in my bed. I’d rather be able to talk to her.”

Still she kept her fox form and restrained herself form bounding around the room at his flirt. She knew he was a natural flirt with everyone, but it still made her heart hit harder in her chest when his words were directed at her.

“Okay, how about this. You can stay if you shift back?” He bargained, sitting on the bed.

That wasn’t fair… she wasn’t ready to leave yet… Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and shifted back into her human form. “Hi.”

“There you are beautiful.” He smiled, leaning down to brush her hair out of her eyes. “I would’ve let you stay anyway, just so you know.”

“So, you just wanted to see my titties.” She teased without a second thought.

Denki smirked, glancing down at her sports bra. “Not the intention, but I’m not complaining.”

His proximity rendered her stupid, but excited. He leaned closer to her and she tried to lean back but she hit the wall. His hand still sat warmly on her face, doing nothing to calm her pounding heart, she wondered if he could hear it.

“Your tail is thumping hard, babe.” Y/N almost felt her tail pick up speed at the pet name.

“It, it happens when I’m excited…” She whispered.

“Good to know.” He nodded, slowly inching closer. “What’s got you so excited?”

She glanced down to his lips and bit her own, losing herself in the fantasy of just closing the distance between them. Soft, warm pressed against her own. Yes, please. Her short daydream was interrupted when his thumb brushed over her lips, gently freeing her bottom one free of her teeth.

“Don’t bite that lip, I want that job.” He ordered softly, making her whimper. Y/N flushed, thinking over his words, she could tell he was waiting for her response, but she couldn’t seem to spit out the words of agreement for the life of her. For some reason it seemed too easy, so instead-

“Then do it.”

She gasped as he surged forwards, crushing his lips into hers. She moaned into his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders for support. Out of all eighteen years of her life, she’d never had her breath stolen like he had done. True to his word, Denki caught her lip with his teeth and tugged it gently, relishing in the whimpered moan she rewarded him with.

Y/N’s hand found new purchase in his hair, gripping tightly and the growl he let out sent pulses straight down to her core. She pulled again and fell dizzy when he grinded into her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. He left her lips in favour of kissing down her neck, gently nipping along the way. She tugged his hair and jerked against his hands, trying to reconnect their lips, but a sharp bite under her ear halted her attempts.

“Don’t do that, or I will fuck you before I get the chance to take you on a date.” He warned, soothing the purpling mark he left behind.

She whined and tried lifting her hips again, despite his hands holding them down. “A- a date is meant for get to know the person you’re seeing. We’ve known each other for years, Denki…”

“I want you to be my girlfriend, not just a fuck.” He muttered trailing his lips across her clavicle.

“Yes.” She breathed, slowly losing her mind. “Yes, like three years ago.”

Denki chuckled. “If I had known that I would have asked three years ago.”

Annoyed with the lack of attention on her lips she yanked his hair again, this time successfully pulling his head up. “I wasn’t hiding it; you just might actually be an idiot.”

His hand suddenly circled her throat, squeezing the sides warningly. “Don’t be a brat, now.”

Y/N moaned in submission, but still, she tried to keep the boldness she had before. “N-not my fault you weren’t paying attention…”

He smirked, hearing her voice waver. “You’re so cute when you act tough, honey.”

“Fuck, just kiss me, please.”

Denki complied to her request and kissed her again, his hand slowly sliding up her sides to brush the sides of her chest, only fully grasping her mounds when she arched herself forwards presenting them to him. His tongue drifted across her lips, politely asking for an entrance, which she happily granted him. The sweet taste of him flooded her senses, nearly drowning her and making her head spin.

She teased his tongue with her own, playfully, with no actual intent on trying to win the battle. He groaned, squeezing her breasts hard, before flicking over the harden peaks trying to pierce through her bra. Once again his lips retreated and migrated down her chest, nipping and biting marks all the way down.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, fingering the fabric separating him from her softness.

“Please.” She panted, tugging at it herself.

As soon as her breasts were free from their confinements, he let his teeth sink into her supple flesh, making her arch into his mouth. “You’re so soft, baby.” He breathed against her.

The compliment made her blush. “Th-thank you…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, confusing her.

“What?” She gasped.

“Do you trust me?” He repeated, sticking his tongue out for her. Sparks flittered over the wet muscle.

Y/N nodded softly tugging his head to her chest. “Yeah, yeah. Yes.”

Her gasp would’ve made him pull his lips off her nipple to ensure she was alright, but only if it wasn’t followed by a sweet moan. Really it just encouraged him to tease them further. But, when he bit down, the pleasurable pain sensation shot straight down to the apex of her thighs combining with another pressure there. It was then that realized the fingers that snuck under her shorts, pressing deft circles into her clit.

A soft whine left her lips, her hips jumping against his hand, and just about lost cried when a single digit slipping into her briefly before retreating to toy with her clit. “Denki, I swear if you don’t do something more I’ll- oh my, fuck!”

Two fingers plunged into her heat, curling against the soft spot hidden inside her. “What was that, princess?”

“Ah, Denki, please.” She whimpered when he removed his fingers again.

“Shh, I got you.” He assured, tugging her shorts down, revealing an adorable pair of underwear covered in sunset clouds- a small bow at the top. “Cute panties.”

Y/N blushed and moved to cover them. “I… I wasn’t really expecting this so, um.”

Denki rolled his eyes and pushed her hands out of the way. “I’m pretty sure I just said I think they’re cute.”

“Cute isn’t sexy.” She argued as he made his way down her body. He bit down on her hip, pulling a hiss of pleasure from her mouth.

“I think you look sexy in anything.” He admitted. “Sweatpants and a tee shirt, your hero costume, the school uniform. Anything.”

“I’m pretty sure that last one is a kink.” She giggled.

“Mmm, probably, but,” Suddenly his mouth enveloped her clit through her panties and her hands flew to his hair, a cry escaping her. “I’m not wrong.”

He tugged her underwear off, spreading her thighs a bit more. He wasted no time re-attaching himself to her bundle of nerves. Groaning at her taste, he spread her lips and licked into her with so much earnest, you’d think he was starving.

Moans and whimpers fell from her lips, eagerly encouraging him further. He tightened his grip on her thighs, pulling her closer to his face. “God, you taste so good.” A moan echoed into the room when she tried to thank him, courtesy of the long fingers drilling into her. Her finger tugged at his hair, although she wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or tug him closer, the pleasure spike nearly being too much for her.

Denki pulled away from her core, panting. “Come on, baby, I can feel you clenching on my fingers. You’re so close.”

“Shit, D-Denki!” Tears welled in her eyes, her hips thrashing against the hold he had on her hip. “I, I- Oh my god!”

He nibbled soft love bite into her neck, picking up his pace, before whispering in her ear. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

One final press on her sweet spot pushed her over and her body bowed so tightly, Denki was almost afraid she'd snap in half. He was quick to cover her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. His fingers slowed, easing her down from her high, only fully pulling out when her hips started shifting away from his ministrations.

Y/N allowed him to maneuver her body on top of his, cuddling her to his chest. He gently rubbed her back, while she caught her breath. “You okay, cutie.”

“Sorry, for hiding in your room.” Y/N apologized.

“My face was just between your thighs, and that’s the topic of conversation?” He laughed.

She hummed, nuzzling his neck. “There’s not much to say for the other subject… I can’t feel my legs.”

Denki snorted, hugging her closer. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Wait, you didn’t cum.” She realized sitting up.

He gently traced up and down her sides, grinning. “That’s okay, that can wait until after our date I’m taking you on.”

She pouted down at him. “Why not before and after…?” Her question brought more life to his cock that already strained against his shorts, but he shook his head.

“It’s okay, babe.” Still she pouted at him for a moment, thoughtfulness swimming through her eyes. Suddenly, she scooted back, sliding downwards until she was pressed against his hardness.

“Please, I want to help…” She begged, softly grinding on him.

“Fuck, princess.” He groaned, his head falling back.

She felt him twitch and pushed herself harder against him. With each roll of her hips, her slick soaked through his shorts. He grabbed her hips, helping her move against his low curses escaping him. Finally, Y/N grew tired of the dry-wet- humping and raised her hip to tug his shorts down.

“Babe-.” He breathed, ready to make sure she didn’t feel pressured into it, but she stopped him with a whine.

“Please, I want you in me.” She pleaded, just hovering over his tip.

Denki nodded and watched as she slowly lowered herself onto him. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to keep still, despite the intense urge to bury himself in her, he didn’t want to hurt her. Her head fell forwards in pleasure feeling him stretch her out so nicely. Denki was quick gently massaging her sides as he whispered soft praises to her. “You’re doing so good, babe. Relax.”

Finally, she was fully seated on him, trying to take a moment to adjust, but the fluttering of her heat broke his will and he gave a sharp thrust into her. She cried out, clamping down around him, walls rippling and juices soaking him further.

Eyes wide with lustful awe, “Fuck… Did you just cum?” He asked, redundantly.

She shuddered and panted. “N-not, oh god. Not my fault.”

He rolled them over with ease, staying inside of her and growled into her neck. “You’re so tight, fuck...”

He slowly retreated from her warmth before plunging into her. A gasping moan tumbled from her lips as he repeated his actions and she tried to lift her hips to meet him. His pace increased and he nip at her neck, lifting her legs up to wrap around his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking my cock so well, shit.” He praised, drilling into her harder.

“Denki… I-!” Y/N’s sobbing moan and tightening walls alerted him that he had found her soft spot. “Gonna cum, gon’cum. Please, please, please. Oh my god!”

Her admission sent him into overdrive, he pulled one of her legs over his shoulder and pounded into her at a pace that sent her eyes rolling back. Her nails clawed down his back, the overstimulation making her seek out some sort of support.

“Let go, baby, I got you.” Denki kissed her cheek and trailed his hand down to draw messy shapes on her swollen clit.

It all soon became too much, and she felt the familiar knot forming in your abdomen once more. She clenched around Denki and after a few more pumps her legs started to tremble as her final release washed over her. He was quick to pull out, emptying himself on her stomach, groaning deeply as he finished.

After a moment of admiring Y/N’s fucked out state he got up to retrieve a warm towel to clean her up. She hummed as he kissed her as he cleaned her, before finally coming up to connect their lips. It was softer than the most previous ones they shared but it made her heart pound just the same, maybe even more.

“Mmm,” Y/N tapped his shoulder, pulling back. “Can we roll over, I’m lying on my tail.”

Denki chuckled, but complied, rolling onto his back, pulling her onto his chest and draw soft circles in her back. Her tail waved contently, tickling his skin when it brushed across his hand. Slowly, they drifted off, their heartbeats lulling the other half to sleep. Well, almost to sleep.

“Sparky, you see the Yokai anywh-!” Bakugo threw open Denki’s door, scarring the fuck out of both naked parties.

Denki instinctively pulled the blankets up around Y/N and coughed awkwardly. “H-hey Bakugo. Nice hair…”

Bakugo stood, face slowly reddening, jaw slack. He blinked a few times before snapping out of it. “Naked or not, you’re dying you little shit.”

Y/N squealed and scrambled out of Denki’s arms as Bakugo fell into them. “Text me!” And with that she shifted into her fox form and bolted.

#denki kaminari #denki kaminari imagine #denki kaminari x reader #denki smut #kaminari denki #kaminari denki smut #denki kaminari smut #denki x reader smut #bnha #mha imagines #bnha denki #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #smut

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 142

Another late chapter... I’m really batting a thousand lately, seems like.

So, work has been insane, but @baelpenrose reminds me to post when I forget, thankfully. And this is SUCH a fun chapter.  I hope you all enjoy!

I dropped into a seat in Mess Hall Seven with a groan, so exhausted that I barely managed to get soup and a grilled cheese from the console.  Tyche yawned and nodded in agreement before poking at her sushi bowl idly. It was six Von-days after the last drill, and between coordinating increased training schedules for Shelters Three and Seven and helping Charly plan kink-night at the Undine, we were wiped.

“People are ungrateful,” she muttered before managing to barely balance a piece of salmon into her mouth.

I muttered something that hopefully sounded like agreement before I scooped up a bite of my soup with one wedge of sandwich, too lazy to even bother with the spoon. “Remind me why we don’t have Vati and Hannah handling the practice schedules?”

“Because they are handling the extra evacuation drills with Jokul and Arthur.”

Personally, I thought they were getting the better end of this deal, but since the raging success of their first Food Festival, it really was only fair. “And the relocations for those who need it,” I admitted. “Except mine.”

“Conor may actually strangle one of them if any of your plants don’t make it,” she pointed out, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis after having given up and using her fingers to eat her lunch. “Not to mention I wouldn’t wish packing with Maverick on anyone.”

“He’s letting me pack the books and textiles.” I shrugged in acceptance after taking another bite of soup-dipped sandwich.

We picked at our food in silence after that, grateful for something resembling a reprieve, before we were interrupted by a flurry of grey hair and enthusiasm landing in one of the nearby chairs with a heavy thunk. “Good afternoon, Madams Reid.”

“Hey, Jokul,” I muttered as Tyche just waggled her fingers at him. I really think I liked it better when he was trying to kill me. Right now, I might even let him do it.

“I know you are both on your meal period, but I wanted to test the waters on potentially scheduling a community activity,” he rushed out.

Tyche guarded her lunch with an almost feral aggression, having heard what happened the last time Jokul had interrupted my lunch. “That should really be something you run by Al-”

“Worthington, yes, I know,” he interrupted. “However, I know you are both quite busy and I wanted to be respectful of your time. As such, I will make this as brief as - ow!” He snatched his hand back away from the other half of my sandwich, rubbing where I had slammed my spoon down onto it.

“I have no idea where the food stealing comes from, but don’t,” I warned him.

“Rude, got it,” he nodded in a terrifying impression of Charly’s normal demeanor. “As I was saying, I recently learned a new type of game from Terra, from the Before.  It involves teamwork, and encourages creativity and escapism, and I think it would be a very good community activity - “

I surrendered to my urge to groan. “We are not doing a redux of Settlers of Cattan. Arthur stabbed someone last time.”

“I didn’t press charges…” Jokul pouted, glancing at the scar on the back of his wrist briefly. “Besides, it was only a fork. Clearly he didn’t mean it, there were four knives in arms reach counting my own.”

Tyche cocked an eyebrow at me. Seriously?

I pursed my lips and wrinkled my nose in response. Yep.

“So what game is it this time?” I asked hesitantly.

I was reward-bombarded with a grin. “It’s called Dungeons and Dragons! Somewhat like a video game, but with more people, and using writing implements and paper. Oh, and different kinds of dice, very important. One person is something of the narrator, to give the game a kind of structure, while the other players act as characters in the game… Ivan introduced me to it, and it is quite challenging with the right people.  The dungeon master - that is the narrator - has to re-evaluate the story based on the actions of the other players, but the players themselves don’t know what the dungeon master is going to do. It is very much a social diversion, and there are many classes….”

As Jokul continued to gush, he was rather oblivious to the fact that Tyche and I were stuffing our faces as quickly as possible to avoid interrupting him or laughing. We had both played when we were younger - in fact, we had been introduced to the game by our mother.  There had even been a very overwhelming pop-culture movement in our youth around the game, which further emphasized just how far out in the boonies Jokul had grown up.  As shocking as it was that he was just now discovering the game, it came at exactly zero surprise that he enjoyed it so much - it was right up his alley of interests.

About fifteen minutes and two more grilled cheeses into his retelling of the campaign he was part of, Charly and Arthur squeezed in with us, their own lunches in tow.  As seemed to be a growing trend, Arthur reached over and snagged one of my sandwiches before I could react, shoving half of it in his face.

That was apparently enough to snap Jokul out of his story. “Hey! Why didn’t you hit him?”

“His deathwish, not my problem,” I shrugged.

Around the remains of my lunch, Arthur managed to enunciate. “Told you, Noah fissed the dairy allergy.”

“Bleargh,” I gagged comically. “It’s okay, think I’m done anyway.”

Jokul’s hand swatted Arthur’s out of the way to steal the rest of my food. “As I was saying, Ivan was quite clever with his resolution to deal subdural damage to the player who was very much ruining the storyline by insisting his character was immune to magical sleep…”

“Oooooo! I love tabletops!” Charly squealed, bouncing in her seat. “What setting are you playing in right now?  My favorite was always Exalted…”

“Miss Harper, I think we are discussing different activities.” Jokul sounded supremely confused, but my heart broke a bit.

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe not Exalted, but what about Ebberron? Swordhaven, maybe?  Just tell me it isn’t Ravenloft… I know you haven’t been fucking around in a Dark Sun, but I beg you to tell me you aren’t playing Ravenloft.”

“I’m not sure what those are… Ivan introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons. There is only one setting.”

“So… Greyhawk or homebrew,” Arthur nodded. “Best place to start, get the basics down.”

Jokul’s head pivoted toward me and Tyche, squinting in annoyance. “You knew, didn’t you? And you let me prattle on…”

“You were so… happy….” I explained plaintively. “We didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Tyche nodded. “We both remember how fun that first campaign is. And honestly? We’ve been having a kind of crappy day.  It was nice to hear someone be excited about something that isn’t work related.”

“But I came to you to discuss making it a ship activity…”

“Originally, yeah,” I shrugged. “That was maybe the first thirty seconds.  After that, you were doing what literally every tabletop roleplaying person has done since the beginning of time… telling stories about the fun, dramatic, and frankly stupid shit the people in your party are doing.”

“Says the two-foot eight halfling rogue,” Arthur scowled.

“I rolled it at random, it was fifteen years ago, get over it!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “At least I wasn’t mated to a frickin’ deity.”

Charly giggled uncontrollably while Jokul goggled at us. “Exalted is broken in all the fun ways.”

“You literally sacrificed, and I quote ‘all of your fucks to give’, for necromancy.”

“That was your idea!”

Jokul turned toward Tyche, waiting for her to say something. She just held up her hands defensively. “I was a murder monk-bunny.”

Arthur snorted. “You were the Black Rabbit of Inle….”

“Well if my wife would have just stopped dying…!”

“At least none of us were the Platinum Knight who pissed his pants every time he confronted his favored enemy,” I laughed. “He never did live that one down. Every. Single. Dragon. He would crit fail his roles.”

“Oh, please,” Arthur intoned drily. “Did I ever tell you about the time one of my players managed to make ‘Notice me, Senpai’ into the most terrifying in-universe warcry imaginable?”

Charly choked before swatting his shoulder. “Not in front of my pasta. Please.”

Jokul, however, looked both horrified and intrigued, egging Arthur on. “Barbarian whose entire clan worshipped a god named The Senpai…. Just imagine, a barbarian in a rage, bellowing ‘NOTICE ME, SENPAI!!!’ before just scything down thirty men with a broadsword.”

At this point, I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my face. “Please, please tell me there was a kilt and pigtails involved….”

Jokul touched his own hair, before straightening as seriously as possible. “They are warrior’s braids, Councillor.”

That was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just put my head down on my folded arms and waiting to either pass out from laughing so hard or from exhaustion.  A few deep breaths and a spinning head later, I managed to wipe my face on my sleeve and realized the conversation was continuing without me.  Just as I was clearing my throat to let Jokul know he should be fine to start organizing something and to send me a rough outline, Arthur dealt the final blow.

Leaning over, he whispered over my shoulder. “By the way, the barbarian’s name was Drystan of the Doki-doki tribe.”

I was proud that I managed to get up and dash into the hallway before collapsing against the wall in maniacal laughter.  I barely registered Hannah’s voice behind me asking everyone at the table if I needed medical assistance, and that did not help.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[please-buckme]

Are you open to writing a threesome for Hayden and Ewan and the reader? The reader meets Hayden and Ewan at a hotel bar. They are in town for a SW con and are looking to “unwind” 😜

You, Me and Ewan Makes Three. Hayden Christensen x Ewan McGregor x reader

Warnings⚠️: SMUT. Threesome, dick sucking, puss eating, ball fondling, ✨smut✨

4361 words

Authors note: I’m sorry.

After a long day of walking around and seeing thousands of people dressed up as their favorite Star Wars characters, you finally pulled yourself away to go back to your hotel. The Star Wars Convention was like a home away from home to you and you can’t believe it’s over. You’ve been going to this convention every year for the past 4 years. You’d met quite a few stars along the way but the only ones you care to meet are; Obi-Wan and Anakin. You would’ve met them by now but everytime you go to buy tickets they are the ones that are always sold out.

For this trip it was the same thing, so you came up with a plan. Through someone on one of your social media pages you found out that Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen would be staying at the same hotel. The hotel was of course beautiful and very expensive. It didn’t matter though. You’d waited basically your whole life to meet them and you seized this opportunity. You didn’t want to be intrusive and look up their room numbers or anything so you had to think of a way for them to be in the same place as you and it not be weird, the bar. The hotel had a beautiful bar connected to the lobby and it was for hotel guests only. This means it would be more private for them so why wouldn’t they eventually come down? You’d gotten yourself all dolled up every night for them to never show up, unfortunately. But tonight was the last night of your stay and you were certain that tonight was the night.

Once you got back to your hotel room you rushed to the shower to wash off the day. You did everything routinely as you’d done this for 3 days now. The only thing you did differently every time was your hair and outfit. Tonight you were going all out. After you showered you blow dried your hair, then curled it. You penned one side of it back with a barrette that had burgundy jewels on it. To match the barrette you wear a skin tight burgundy, velvet dress. Around your neck was a black, velvet choker to match with your matte balck Stilettos. For your makeup you put on very little. You did some mascara followed by a little bit of eyeliner and dark lipstick to finish it off.

When you finished getting ready you headed down to the bar, elegantly. Some employees started to recognize you, saying hello and asking how your day had been. Even when you got to the bar the bartender had your drink ready before you even sat down. “You look lovely tonight, Miss.” The bartender complimented. You give him a weak smile in response. You were truly very shy, if you weren’t so determined to meet them you’d be up in your hotel room eating pizza while binge watching The Office for the millionth time. Just for them though you put on a tight dress instead of loose pants.

You’d been down at the bar for almost an hour and half, only having two drinks. You didn’t want to be drunk the first time you met them or else you’d truly be a huge, sloppy mess.

The time on your phone said 12:00am. Everyone who’d been there when you showed up had left, leaving you and a few other people including the bartender. He asked if you’d like another drink and you decline his offer but tell him thank you anyway. You sat there slouched over the bar, one hand stirring your drink with a tini cocktail straw and the other held up your head. You were disappointed, not necessary at them, but in yourself. Had you really wasted hours of your night sitting here alone at a bar full of strangers? It had gotten to the point where you almost left until, “Is this seat taken?” It was Ewan.

“Uh,uh no. Please sit.” You say straightening your posture from the very sloppy slutch, to now a more confident, upright position, you hoped. You did your best not to fiddle with anything. To Ewan you were just another person and that’s how you wanted to treat him. You sit staring straight ahead wishing you’d said yes to that drink now.

“Are you waiting for someone?” He asked politely. Not trusting your voice at the moment you just shook your head no in response. You did look at him now, however, you were surprised by his ensemble. Ewan wore a white, skinny suit with a beautifully, patterned undershirt. He must have been waiting for someone you thought. You took this time to ask a very delayed question.

“Are you waiting for someone?” He laughed softly, you’re guessing at your clear shyness.

“Yes, just a buddy of mine. If i’m bothering you I can-” You cut him off.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so impolite.” you out your head down looking at your lap. You definitely screwed this up, you thought. How is it that you waited for this man for three nights now and never thought of what to say? You see him, out of the corner of your eye, duck his head down to look at you.

“You haven’t been impolite at all, Darling.” You lift your head up a bit to look at him. He had a friendly kind of smirk spread across his face. “Shall I buy you a drink?” He asked. You of course said yes, now in dire need of alcohol. He waves the bartender over and orders your drinks. You make small talk before your drinks come out, mostly him talking though. He’d ask you simple questions like; are you from, were you a guest at the hotel, and what brought you to town. You didn’t lie to him on the last question. You simply just told him that you came in for the convention. You did not tell him it was to finally have a chance to meet him, that wasn’t information you thought he needed.

A few minutes had gone by. You’d become a little more comfortable talking to him, he just had that way about him. You were so focused on him though that you hadn’t realized someone had sat down on the other side of you. “Ah, Hayden, meet my new friend.” Ewan gestured behind you. You froze briefly but then turned around as calm as possible, trying to blow your cover.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said in almost a whisper. Being sandwiched between Obi-Wan and Anakin is more than you ever could have asked for. After greeting Hayden you stared straight again not knowing what to do with yourself. They started talking over you to each other. You just waited till one of them said something before looking at either one of them.

“So, what brought you to the convention?” Hayden asked.

“What?” You asked him just snapping out of your staring-intently-at-a-wall trance.

“Ewan was just telling me you were in town for the convention. What brought you here?” He reiterated. He’d ordered a drink at some point. You watched as he took a sip. Hayden was beautiful. His outfit wasn’t as fancy as Ewan but it was him. Hayden decided to wear a nice grey fitted suit, one you’d seen before. Recognizing the outfit made you smile, relaxing your nerves a little.

“It’s just something I do every year.” You’re still not lying.

“You a fan?” Hayden asked bluntly.

“Well, yeah. Why would I go if I weren’t?” You asked sarcastically. He hummed at your response.

“You’re very calm for a fan or calmer than most.” If only he knew just how much you were losing your shit on the inside. You were much more relaxed with both of them now. You listened as they talked and told jokes to one another. Ewan bought you many more drinks than you’d anticipated on drinking, making you nice and drunk. That helped you join in on conservations with them, letting them really get to know you. They really seemed like they were enjoying your company.

“So what brought you guys down to the bar tonight?” You asked in an involuntary, drunken laugh. All of a sudden that went silent. They looked at each other almost anxiously. “What?” You asked again.

“There’s just a tradition we uphold every year at this event.” Ewan started to explain. He leaned down closer to you, moving the hair from off your shoulder and tucking it behind your ear. You could feel his breathe on your neck as he whispered, “We like to find a beautiful woman like yourself, take her to our room and fuck her till morning. Would you be interested in getting fucked, Darling.” With that he takes your earlobe between his teeth. You gasp at the sensation. Hayden just sits watching you, palming himself.

“O-okay. Both of you together, though?” Hayden nodes yes. “Whose room?” Ewan removes himself from your earlobe and grabs your hand leading you out of the bar with Hayden right behind you.

Once you got to the elevators you could feel Hayden towering over you as he unexpectedly grabbed your ass. You moan at his touch turning around to look into his lust filled eyes. When the elevator doors opened Ewan pulled you in. Hayden took no time in slamming you up against the back wall, crashing your lips together. The kiss was rough, immediately making your lips swell. He pulled away a moment sticking his middle finger down your throat before pulling it out and replacing his lips to yours. He didn’t leave you wondering for a second when you felt his finger go under your dress. He groaned when he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear. He toyed with your clit making you moan into his mouth uncontrollably. They didn’t seem to care how loud you’d get which you loved, it made the night's events even more intriguing.

The elevator doors opened once you reached the 24th floor. You felt Ewan pull you from Hayden’s grasp on you. By Hayden’s reaction you could tell that pissed him off. You smirked at him in response, egging him on. He practically ran after you and Ewan. You reached your other hand out for him and he took it. You could still feel your slick still on your fingers, making you bite your lip. The thought of you on Hayden Christensen’s fingers had always been a fantasy of yours. Knowing your fantasies were becoming reality overwhelmed your senses with excitement. Ewan let go of your hand to get the key out to open his hotel room door. Hayden ground his hard member into your backside as you waited to go in. You took this moment to thank yourself for booking this hotel and coming up with such a dumb idea that somehoe worked.

When Ewan finally got the door open they let you walk in yourself. Sauntering through the door you took your time making your way to the bed. When you did get to the bed you bent down to take your heels off when Ewan stopped you, “Leave those on, yes?” You smirked at him and nodded in agreement. “I can help you out of this though.” He says gesturing to your dress. You stand up and turn around for him to unzip it for you. He takes the zipper down slowly, chancing with his other hand that trailed down the newly exposed skin.

Once the dress was off, you sat back down on the bed. You were now face-to-face with Ewans belt. Hayden was sat across from you in a chair waiting for his turn with you. You grabbed at Ewan’s belt, undoing it slowly. With your other hand you palmed at the bulge that was outlined by his tight, white pants. He groaned at the feel of your palm pressing harder into his member, so you did it again. Ewan was holding back the urge to shove you down and take you right then and you could tell, so you undid his zipper a little faster than you had with the belt.

You watched as Ewan through his shoes off and pulled his legs completely out of his pants. He still had on his boxer which frustrated you. When he made his way back to face you you wasted no time in freeing him. His member sprung out, hitting you in the face, this made you giggle for a moment. Immediately you took Ewan into your mouth, massaging the veins of his cock with your tongue. “That’s it, Darling. Nice and steady.” You bobbed your at a steady pace, savoring every inch of him in your mouth, while your hands started to undo his beautifully designed under shirt. When his shirt came off he was now as bare as you, making you feel more at ease.

You’d been going your steady pace on Ewan until he decided to fuck your mouth rigorously. You gagged as tears began to form at your eyelash. He took you all the way down his shaft holding you there. He groaned thunderously at the feeling of your throat closing in around him. When he released you, he pulled all the way out. You gasped for air as tears and saliva soaked your face. You watched him massage himself as Hayden, now only in his boxers, came up to you. Hayden liked being more personal with you. He took his time kissing at your neck, softly at that. He then looked over your face planting gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead before crashing his lips to yours. It was a welcomed needy kiss, like he’d been waiting all day to kiss you. You bright one of your hands up to his hair, fisting at it softly. He moaned into your mouth as you pulled at his hair, making you smirk against his lips.

You could feel Hayden’s hands exploring your body, mostly your thighs. He detached from your lips and started his trail of love bites down your body. You gasped at every sensation his bites sent through your body. He definitely knew what he was doing to you as you felt him grin against your skin. He traveled all the way down between your legs biting harder as he got closer to your cunt. “Hayden!” You screamed but you couldn’t figure out if it were from pleasure or pain or both. He smiled up at you, smoothing his thumb over the lost spot he had bitten. He placed an apologetic kiss just beneath your belly button as he ascended down once again.

You could feel breath as he reached your folds. You grabbed at your inner thighs, pushing them down slowly while still kissing at the skin just above your clit. You were breathing heavily with anticipation. “Are you ready?” He asked in a low rasp. You looked down between your legs to see he positioned right over your warmth. You can’t even think of how many times you’d imagined Hayden between your legs, so you looked at him for a second or two, bringing your hand down to play with his hair before saying yes and lowering him down to you. He starts off by placing a kiss to your clit. You didn’t even have time to react when he started his tongues assault on your pussy. He groaned against you as he played with your clit, licking and sucking while adding his middle and ring fingers to your entrance. You still had your hand in his hair tugging him deeper into you. He pumped his fingers rapidly into you making you squirm beneath him.

“Oh god, Hayden. You’re gonna make me cum.” After saying that Hayden switched his fingers to your clit and his tongue to your entrance. You were definitely screaming as he brought you closer to your climax.

All of a sudden, though, he was off you completely. You look down to see that had pushed him out of the way. “Let me show you how a Master does it.” He said to Hayden, making you giggle. Ewan spread your legs to look at your now dripping pussy. “Hello there.” He says directly to your pussy, leaning himself down into it. He takes you as Hayden had, soft, gentle kiss before the spine tingling sensation of your clit being totally worked work his tongue and lips. They felt almost the same besides Ewans facial hair adding that little extra amount of pleasure. Every time you moaned Ewans name he increased the pace of his tongue. You came very quickly, already being close with Hayden had made your orgasm ten minutes more intense. You tried to pull Ewan off as your orgasm made your sensitive clit even more sensitive. Your legs were shaking and your body was jolting as you begged Ewan to stop, he wouldn’t though. Being in such a sensitive state made you cum on his tongue again. You couldn’t believe how amazing this orgasm had felt. You blacked out momentarily as your body went limp around his face.

When you finally came down from your high, you looked between your legs to see Ewan massaging your thighs gently. “So sorry, my dear. I guess I couldn’t help myself. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” He asked. You don’t know if you were still a little delirious or just felt like having fun when you made your request. When you did though Ewan stopped rubbing your legs and glanced at you in shock. You look over to Hayden with a grin on your face as he also seemed to be in a bit of shock. “As you wish.” Ewan said.

You say up from your lying position and say crisscross. Hayden released his thick member from the boxer he’d been wearing, making you almost drool at the sight. Ewan and Hayden then joined you on the bed asking again if this was what you wanted. You nodded, still grinning. Ewan propped himself on his knees to be level with Hayden. He put both hands on Hayden’s shoulders before leaning in to kiss him. Your request had simply been to watch them with each other. The second their lips met you could feel a throb between your legs. They deepened the kiss as Hayden laid back. You hear Hayden moan as Ewan plays with his balls, gently. They continue on like this for several minutes before you can’t stand it anymore.

You tap on Ewan’s shoulder. He looks up at you from Hayden and you plead with your face to join them, they accept. Ewan lifts himself up as you snake in between them, now facing Hayden. “Hi.” You say giggling.

“Hello.” He responds before you lower your face down to kiss him. You taste so much in this kiss; alcohol, your juice and, you’re guessing, the taste of Ewan’s lips along with Hayden’s. You smile into the kiss while playing with his hair again. You feel him smile back at you and bring his hand down to your clit. “Are you ready?” He asked again. You weren’t sure what for this time but you said yes anyway. You still felt Ewan above you but now you felt his member begging for entry at your cunt. You look up at him with a nod before he slides into painfully slow. You inhale sharply as he fills you up. Hayden, still under you, plays with your hair while soothing you. “Does it hurt?” Hayden asks. You nod yes. “Wait till I fuck you then.” You moan at both the pleasurable pain in your core and the filthy things Hayden whispers in your ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum all over his cock?” You answer him incoherently as Ewan slams into you vigorously. “And when he’s done I’m going to wreck you myself, would you like that?” He hums.

“Yes, oh god yes. I-I want to come all over your cock.” You hear you groan above you as he pulls your hair making you join him in an upright position. The new angle makes you moan out almost into a scream. Hayden repositions himself under you as he aliens his cock perfectly were your face would come down to meet him.

Ewan grunts in your, “Does my cockiness feel good, love?” You moan in response. He slams into you harder. “Answer me, love.” He demands.

“Yes so good, so fucking good, Ewan.”

“Good, now be a good girl and suck his cock.” Ewan says shoving you back down onto Hayden’s member this time. Having already had Ewan in your mouth, your throat was nice and ready to slide Hayden in the way down gagging around him slightly. Hayden bucked his hips at the feeling of your warm mouth around him. He could tell this didn’t bother you so he took your hair into his fist as he fucked your mouth. No other men would ever make you this full and this happy again in your life. You heard you shout from above ‘I HAVE THE HIGHER GROUND’ which actually made you choke around Hayden. Hayden lifted you up from him thinking he’d hurt you but you were a gasping, laughing mess. You loved them. Before now you didn’t think you could love them anymore but every second you’d spent with them just increased your love for them.

Ewan had tired out behind you after a while and switched with Hayden, this time though you weren’t lying down. Hayden propped you up on your hands and knees. He began again, as he did on your front, by kissing down your spine, while fondling your breasts. “Can I keep you?” You whispered up at him. He smiled against your skin, making you giggle.

You became impatient waiting for him to fill you up, so you reached for his cock and massaged the tip ever so slightly as he hummed against you. Taking the hint he backed away from you just enough to position himself at your entrance. “This is where the fun begins.” He whispered in your ear, a hint of laughter in his voice. You nod again laughing briefly as he slowly takes you with his cock. He stretched you out like no one ever had. Ewan was big, of course, but Hayden’s was.. different. Hayden’s fit you like a tight glove he was almost too big for. He couldn’t fill you up at first, because you begged him not to. He got just passed the tip before pulling back out. “It’s okay. Take your time.” He told you as he pushed back in. This time felt a little better as he brought himself a little deeper inside you. You both groaned in unison once he’d filled you completely.

Your legs were shaking as he held you up. You’d honestly never felt so weak before now, but you didn’t care. Hayden felt so good gliding in and out of you slowly, letting you adjust to his size, still. You watched Ewan saunter up to you while pumping himself. You lick your lips as he brings his cock right up to your face. You lick the underneath of his cock, lacking up your own juice from him. You kiss the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. He groaned at the contact. You bobbed you’re head in sync with Hayden’s thrusts making Ewan twitch in your mouth. “Cum in my mouth please.” You beg him. He groans again as you holo out your cheeks around him. He takes your head inbetween his hands and fucks your mouth in sloppy thrusts. You feel him twitch just before releasing his seed into your mouth. You hum around him as he comes down from his high. He pets your head before releasing himself from your mouth with a pop.

Hayden lifts you up by your hair as Ewan had. You cry out his name, feeling him slide even deeper into. “Are you gonna cum around my cock?” He asked now bring a hand down to toy with your clit.

“Yes, oh fuck. Yes I’m gonna cum.” He increased his rhythm on your clit as he smashed into your g spot like it was there just for him. He thrust into you a couple more times before sending you over the edge. As your pussy tightened around him with your climax, he followed in his shortly after yours. You could feel him release into, both of your excitement mixing together inside you.

Hayden kisses at the top of your spine before exiting you. Your whole body collapsed when he went you go. All three of you sat for a moment, breathing heavily on top of each other’s sweaty bodies. You broke the silence by saying, “Um, I don’t think I can move.” The room filled with their laughter.

“Then I guess we did our jobs right, huh lad?” Ewan said, hitting Hayden on the shoulder. Hayden laughed before getting up. You watched as he dressed himself before picking up your dress and walking over to you.

He slipped the dress out to your hips. “Can you lift your hips for me.” He asked, trying to pull your dress up your body. You managed to do so. He flipped you over on your side to zip up the back.

Ewan leaned over to look at you, “That was great fun, love. Till next year!” He said planting a kiss to your cheek. You blush before you feel Hayden’s arms pick you up from the bed to carry you out of the room. You giggle as your legs still shook in Hayden’s arms. He smiled back down at you, also planting a kiss to your cheek.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” He asked. Exiting Ewan’s room.

“Not till 3. Why?” You asked out of curiosity.

“I’m not quite done with you.” Hayden smirks as he carries you back to his room.

xMasterlist.x

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #fanfic #star wars #anakin skywalker x reader #lust #smut #ewan mcgregor #obi wan x reader #obi wan star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen imagines #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen smut

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 9//find a way of coping

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | y/n is struggling to cope after Sokovia. Someone unexpected shows up

Warnings | swearing, drug use, violence, descriptions of dead bodies

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Y/n sighed, rolling the joint between her fingers as she sat back. Since being at the new compound, y/n had found a place to hide just past the treelike of the surrounding woods - a place that no one else had found so far.

She brought the joint to her lips, her thumb flicking it the lighter until the little flame danced, lighting the tip. She breathed in, taking a hit before lowering the joint from her mouth and breathing the smoke out. Her head rolled back, resting against the tree behind her.

Y/n let her eyes slip shut, being the joint back up and taking another hit of the weed. She could feel herself relaxing, muscles lax and stress leaving.

It was the first time in days that her mind was taken off of what she'd done, and she was relishing in it. She let the rolled up joint hang from her fingers, wrist loose as she rested her forearm on her knees, which were tucked into her chest.

"Y/n? What the fuck are you doing!?" Y/n groaned, her eyes fluttering open as she rubbed her eyes.

"Shit." She muttered, gasping when she felt Bucky's fingers curl around her jaw, tilting her head up to his as he leaned in close. He examined her reddened eyes, expression u telling of his emotions.

"Are you high?" He pushed after a moment, tone harsh, like a bite.

"No!" Y/n defended, bringing a hand up and slapping Bucky's arm away from her. She stood up, rolling her eyes at Bucky as he glared at her. "You interrupted me before I could get that far." She mumbled under her breath, and Bucky scoffed, placing his hands on his hip.

"Come on, doll. I okay ow you're struggling right now...but drugs? Seriously? I thought you were better than this." Bucky dismissed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Well I'm so sorry to disappoint you, asshole! You're not the one that killed a bunch of innocent people, Buck!" Y/n raised her voice, throwing her hands in the air. Bucky tilted his head with a frustrated look, pacing towards y/n so quickly that she backed up into the tree. Y/n let out a small oomph as her back collided with the bark, Bucky's body pressed against hers.

"I didn't kill a bunch of innocent people, hm? Did you forget who you're talking to, y/n? I'm the goddamn poster boy for killing innocents, doll!" Bucky shouted, his spit spraying her face as the veins in his neck and forehead protruded, face red. "But it doesn't mean I resorted to drugs, y/n! That shit messes you up, it's fuckin' dangerous!"

"At least you weren't lucid when you killed them." Y/n shot back in a barely audible mumble that had Bucky scoffing with a short, humourless laugh.

"Wasn't lucid? Doesn't make it any fuckin' better, y/n! I still killed them!" Bucky exclaimed, eyes wide as he pushed away from her. He sighed deeply, but y/n stayed in place, breathing heavy.

"Look, I'm sorry for shouting, okay? But jus- just please promise me you won't use that stuff again? I don't want you hurting yourself with that shit." Bucky said calmly now, a soft plea in his eyes that made y/n instinctively nod.

"I won't. I promise." Y/n murmured, and Bucky sighed again, throwing his arms out to the side. Y/n rushed forwards, leaping into his arms so hard that Bucky took a few steps back, encasing the girl into his warm embrace.

"I've got you doll, I've got you. You're okay." He mumbled, his nose buried in y/n's hair as he spoke.

...

The second I entered the room, I was spinning on my heal to leave again. Steve's hand wrapping a round my bicep stopped me in my tracks though, his face levelling with mine.

"Doll, please." He murmured, blue eyes soft. I rolled my eyes, but straightened up and turned around anyway. A fake smile occupied my lips as I crossed my arms over my test, tilting my head with a hum. Tony rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips and Sharon stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Hi, I'm Sharon Carter. I'm here to assistant with your training and trying to keep your powers under control." She said with a pitiful look. I eyes her hand but never took it, instead looking over the woman's shoulder at Tony.

"Her? Really? What's she gonna do; be some pointless victim for me?" I scoffed and my dad threw me a glare. I could practically feel the awkwardness radiating between Steve and Sharon, Steve's Adam's apple bobbing furiously as he swallowed thickly. Sharon's eyes darted between the two of us, skittish and almost scared; like I would hurt her if she looked at him too long.

"Y/n speak friendlier." Tony barked through gritted teeth, the embarrassment he felt clear in his tone. I scoffed again, letting my eyes roll obnoxiously.

"No, Mr Stark, it's okay." Sharon waved off, a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes spreading across her pink lips. "I know we got off on the, uh, wrong foot," she cleared her throat and I scoffed. "But I hope we can...start over. I think we could be good friends."

"Yeah, sure." I said nonchalantly, shaking my head and hitting my hip out.

"Y/n," Steve said, tone a little too harsh, "please, just give her a chance. She knows what's she's doing." That comment had my turning to face the super soldier, brow quirked.

"Oh yeah, Steve? I'm sure she really knew what she was doing when she fucked you. Did she bounce on it real good?" I mocked, but my words were no where near playful. Steve cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze as he spoke.

"Come on, y/n, that's not fair. We were broken up!" Steve exclaimed with a frown. Y/n just glared at him, a silence ensuing. After a moment Tony clapped his hands together turning to Sharon.

"Should I show you to your room?" He inquired and the blonde woman tilted her head in a smile.

"I think that's a great idea." As they walked out of the room, Sharon took one last glance at steve before the thud of the door was signalling their exit.

And that was it for y/n.

"Why were you looking at her?" Y/n mumbled, looking up at Steve, whose eyes were still trained on the door. The man smirked, baby blue eyes darting down to meet with y/n's as his pearly-white teeth flashed.

"You're jealous." He gloated, and y/n smacked his chest.

"Of course I'm fuckin' jealous! Why wouldn't I be?" Y/n snapped, and Steve drew the squirming girl into his arms.

"You have nothing to worry about. I was just..lost in thought, I guess." Steve sighed, placing a kiss into y/n's hair as she settled into his embrace. "Just try not to kill Sharon while she's helping you train, I'd never forgive myself." Steve mumbled and y/n giggled against his broad chest.

"I can't make any promises." She murmured back. Steve chest vibrates in a mumble as he chuckled, another kiss being dropped into her hair.

...

The last person I expected to show up was Peter. I hadn't spoken to him much since the night of the party, and I fully intended on walking straight passes him. But the stupid teenager had other plans.

I was already frustrated, on edge; Sharon had just finished my first training session and all I could think about the whole time were her fair hands all over steve, her perfectly pink lips on his, her naked body pressed to his-

I shook the thoughts off, blinking a couple times before looking up at Peter again.

"Can we talk?" The boy mumbled, eyes pleading as he looked hopefully at me. I sighed, heavy and long, before giving him a small nod. My day couldn't really get any worse anyway, so what was the harm in indulging him?

He led me to one of the common rooms, which was empty and barely even looked like it had been decorated yet. The sides were empty as well as the walls, a simple sofa sat in the middle of a lonely room. Peter led me over to it, the cushions dipping as we both perched on the seat.

"I wanted to apologise." Peter said after a moment, head hanging as he broke the awkward silence. I gulped, swallowing thickly at his words. "I wanted to apologise for how much of a dick I was. Before." He said he didn't receive a reply from me.

"Okay." I mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Why?"

"Because it wasn't fair, how we rested you. How he treated you. How I treated you." Peter spoke with a tight, barely-there, smile. "I know I didn't do much, but I'm staring to thick that was the problem. I could feel done something; included you, talked to Mr Stark." Peter continued.

My fists clenched and unclenches at the memories, my jaw tightening as I listened to him speak. I could feel that bubbling urge, rising so high to the surface I was struggling to shove it back down again.

"Peter." I said sharply, harshly. The boy frowned, trying to look at me but my head was turned away. "Peter, I need to you leave. Get out of the room. Now." I grated through gritted teeth, closing my eyes tightly and willing the urges down. "Please." My voice cracked and Peter slowly stood, hands out in surrender as he babbled, confused. "Now!" I growled, but it was too late.

I opened my eyes to see the brown-haired boy crouched in the floor, hands grasping his head as he groaned in pain.

"Y/n...please...stop...you're hurting...me!" Peter stammered, words wheezed out through the pain as a scream clutched his throat. I gasped, I think. But the rage was burning; a horrid, contagious feeling that ate me from the inside out. "Y/n, please!" He screamed, falling forwards so his forehead resting against the floor.

I was vaguely aware of the click of the door opening, then slamming closed as footsteps piled into the room. Frantic worries as Tony crouched over Peter; barking orders into the room.

A softly murmured  'm'sorry' before a sharp pain in my head, vision knocked out as my body fell limply against the sordid wall of muscle besides me.

Taglists

Steve Rogers Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @macylawz @zaphdekota @bval-1

Bucky Barnes Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @zaphdekota

Steve Rogers One-shot, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @zaphdekota @bval-1 @anakinsslag

Bucky Barnes One-shot, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @macylawz @zaphdekota @anakinsslag

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#captain america #captain america smut #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky x steve #steve rogers image #steve x bucky #steve roger fanfic #steve rogers smut #chris evans smut #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan characters #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #marvel smut #avengers smut

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, bribery, immoral deals, bullying, homophobia, outing, transphobia, violence, abortion, teen pregnancy, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Regina) Five is the king of this school, and he has no plans to give up that position. He needs it to protect his people, as few and far between as they are, and himself, if he’s honest - he’s a trans and ace-aro kid in platonic love with the health class mannequin who he calls Dolores. Ruling with fear is basically all he can do. While he’s mean, you’ll soon realize that everything he says is more of a blunt observation that will improve your life if you just heed his advice. He doesn’t respect almost anybody - not the jocks, theatre geeks, nerds, cheerleaders, band kids - no one. However, if he does respect you, you have his trust and protection. And as a thirteen-year-old genius who only takes advice from always-slightly-drunk art teacher Agnes, his protection is pretty damn valuable: the last person who tried to hurt one of his people will never walk again. Leonard Peabody - he assaulted Vanya, and he paid. Five beat him to the point of hospitalization without getting a single speck of blood or bruise on himself, and Leonard’s the one who walked away in handcuffs. Do not fuck with any of Five’s people, or you have to fuck with Five. And you do not want to fuck with Five.

(Gretchen) Vanya is quiet and subdued, to the point where people question how she’s a part of the school’s most popular trio. If you talk to her for long enough though, it becomes clear: she knows any and everybody’s secrets. She writes for the school paper, and is known to write the stories her subjects don’t want anyone else to find out about. Like Diego, who she outed as bisexual last year to throw people off the trail of her own secret relationship with Sissy, earning her an ex-girlfriend and an ex-friend. She’s been trying to win Diego’s forgiveness ever since, but he won’t talk to her, returning every single one of her letters and gifts. (He’s blocked her number and all of her socials, which she only created to talk to him anyway.) She doesn’t know why Five keeps her around - Klaus loves to gossip, but Five never seems to want any of her secrets. She’s pleasantly surprised to find out that he apparently actually enjoys her company. (What?)

(Karen) Klaus is a fucking mess. He plays the dumb blonde (well, brunette) despite being a genius in his own right, even if he’s not at Five’s level. (To be fair, he’s pretty sure no one is.) He’s a drag queen on the weekends, a hangover from his time in the mafia gang, which he joined with his boyfriend Dave for six months after running away from home. Dave died in a gunfight, and Klaus has been fucked up (well, more than usual) ever since. Anorexia, PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, the works. But as lonely as he is, addicted to a fuckton of hard drugs and liquors to cope, he’s still an alluring, aloof, and bubbly popular girl, wearing pink skirts and glittery heels and leather corset crop tops to school every day. No matter how much his father Reginald beats him for it, he keeps being himself, because he’s brave and because even if Reginald hates him, someone far more important loves him… Diego. Diego, who Klaus has kissed under a million stars and in the lollipop shop down the road and on top of a cafeteria table. Diego, who Klaus has chased through the rain and into the street without rest or hesitation. Diego, whose words and promises and scribbles are immortalized on Klaus’ skin for all to see. Diego, who Klaus will love no matter how much bigotry they encounter or dickwads they’re beat up by or miles they put between them. Diego, Klaus’ ex-boyfriend.

(Cady) Allison is the new girl, and she has plans for the advantage being underestimated has brought her. She challenges Five on her first day there, earning his respect, and joins his group at the urgings of Klaus and Vanya, who like her company. A fashion queen, she acts as though she’s unfazed by any and everything, but nobody knows her true heartbreak - she still writes letters to a girl back home. Allison was expelled from her Christian private school for falling in love with a girl named Natalie, who she kissed in janitors’ closets and who she beat up racist and homophobic blondes for. She has no tolerance for bullies, and yet becomes one under Five’s guidance - until she upends his reign as queen bee and signs her death warrant. (Though she later finds out he was more angry at her for stealing Klaus and Vanya’s affection than his popularity.) Now her only hope for happiness in her final days is Ray, the Shakespeare-quoting nerd in her English class… or Luther, the quiet dork in the Star Trek t-shirts in her math class. Fuck, she misses Natalie.

(Aaron) Luther is the posterboard for toxic masculinity. He’s on the football team but hates it, preferring his math tutoring and fantasy books to tackling drills. His bisexuality is his deepest secret - he once slept with Diego when they were drunk at a party after a football game, and he can’t get it out of his head. He keeps thinking about what might happen if somebody found out - would he be shunned like Diego? Trapped like Vanya? Plastic like Klaus? He doesn’t know. All he can do is continue to be kind and hope Allison loves him enough to love every part of him, beyond his good lucks and British accent and fucking Ray. So Luther stands up to Five, and pays the price. He compliments Klaus on his skirts, and pays the price. (Diego seems to simultaneously love and hate him for it, it’s confusing.) He holds the door open for Ben, and pays the price. He’s big enough to be scary, kind enough to be overlooked - but after that incident with Vanya, everyone looks at him like he’s a monster to be locked up. And soon enough, “star student” Luther, “teacher’s pet” Luther, “completely under the principal’s thumb and completely friendless and completely terrified of the world around him” Luther might just break under all that pressure.

(Janis) Diego is the school’s resident outcast and rebel punk - he wears skirts and fishnets and whatever the fuck he wants because if Klaus taught him anything when they were dating it was that gender is a construct and he looks hot in leather. They broke up when Diego was outed and Klaus chose to stay quiet when people started shunning Diego for it, but despite it all, Diego still loves him. He misses when they used to paint their nails together, because he has to paint his own now. They used to stare up at the stars together and fall asleep in the grass, curled up in each other, on the nights that Klaus would run away in terror from his dad and Diego would breathe with him and let him press his hand against his heart until Klaus’ panic died down. His heart still flutters when he sees Klaus smile around a lollipop… but he won’t take him back. He won’t. He just can’t forgive him. So instead, he talks to his mom about everything. He plays soccer with his sister Eudora. He paints shit while smoking weed with his best friend Lila. He thinks of Luther being scared of him and laughs. You know, he was almost in Allison’s position freshman year - Five loved him, and so did Klaus and Vanya, but then Vanya outed him to the whole school for no reason like a day before he and Klaus were going to come out together. And now they’re all estranged, and Diego has the strangest feeling that he’s lost his family, even though his mom is the only real family he’s ever known. But maybe he’s wrong. Because Klaus keeps sending him “anonymous” letters, leaving them on the porch and spilling secrets Diego never even would’ve imagined him having. But forgiveness is still a question - that is, until one day Diego gets a letter in a different handwriting: Five’s, telling him to man the fuck up and love Klaus before he kills himself trying to tear the stars down for Diego’s own personal pleasure, and suddenly, Diego is crying on his porch in the rain, missing a slender, sassy skeleton in his arms and a pink, bruised but unbroken heart in his chest.

(Damien) Ben is everyone’s favorite, and the kindest person in the world. He used to be Klaus’ best friend, but that ended when Ben got into an accident (there was a bus involved, that’s all you need to know) that landed him in a wheelchair and Klaus couldn’t deal with the mental pain it caused him. They still stare at each other longingly from across the cafeteria, but never say a word to each other, not even in class. But beyond Klaus, Ben has never had any friends, though he has a million aquaintances: he’s the only student in the school that everyone loves and respects. Five holds the door for him, though Ben can tell without having to ask that Five would rather nobody know that. He hangs out with Diego because he knows Diego’s lonely, even if he never wants to admit it. He advises Allison not to let anyone control her, telling her he knows Natalie from summer camp and that the deaf girl still loves her and reads every single one of her letters. He gives Vanya his lunch when she skips to cry in the gym after Diego yells at her, even though a part of him might think she deserves it sometimes. He plays sports with Luther after school and offers him an ear and some jokes about his problems, and a few touchdowns when he’s feeling good. He acts as Ray’s student consultant, because he knows how hard Ray works to treat him like an equal. He tutors Eudora in basically everything, but cuts study sessions short to play video games when he can tell she’s too stressed to think. He’s ace and pan and proud about it; he runs the school’s GSA; he defends Diego and uses the right pronouns for Lila when they’re alone without Lila ever having to him he’s trans. He bugs Reginald’s office in one of their many meetings and records enough conversations to get him fired when he tries to expel Five. And finally, karma rewards him - Klaus shows up at his house with a box of brownies he baked himself, all covered in smiley faces, and shoves them into Ben’s hands, shaking his head when Ben assumes they’re for Diego. I miss you, Klaus tells him, and Ben tugs him down into a kiss, pulling away with a stammered apology. I’m sorry, he blushes, and Klaus beams, leaping into his lap and hugging him closer than ever, the two of them queerplatonic partners from then on, forever linked by their fingers in the hallway. Happy. Finally.

Lila is the shy artsy kid who carries around one of those leather brown satchels that looks threatening but is really just code for “I think I’m too cool for a backpack so I stuff all my incorrect homework and favorite comic books into this sack of knockoff pig skin instead”. He’s covered in paint most of the time, and wears Alice in Wonderland combat boots and Sharpie-doodle-covered jeans and big black hoodies and soft grey beanies; he’s trans and hacked off his own hair until an undercut with choppy slash bangs and there’s pink streaks in them, of course, to match the bubblegum he’s always chewing. His nails are bitten and black, and his skin is decorated with tattoos that are almost exclusively Bo Burnham quotes, with the exception of Diego’s name right over his heart. (Diego has Lila’s name over his too - and Klaus’ and Eudora’s, though he’d never tell them that.) He gives his skirts to Klaus and gets along well enough with Five, them both being trans and all, and everyone else knows him as that kid who’ll spread rumors and steal things for bribes. It’s not like he can get in more trouble than he’s already in - he lives with his bigoted and abusive bitch of a mom. But Diego is his best friend - the one he shoots and stabs things with, the one whose ex-boyfriend he talks to because Diego will never admit to himself that he misses Klaus like he would his own lungs if they were torn from his chest, the one whose sister he’s in love with. Wait. Fuck. Oops.

Eudora is Diego’s sister, and the captain of the soccer team. She wears her red jersey with the white numbers to school every day, and is covered in tattoos of magical creatures, because she believes in all of them. She wishes she was a werewolf, and has dressed up as one every year for Halloween since she was ten. (And she’s let anyone dressed a werewolf give her a hickey just in case that turned her. It’s good to have all your bases covered.) She has a broken down pick-up truck named Travis-Trevor-Thomas-literally-any-other-T-name that she loves beyond belief, and drives Diego to and from school in it, though he grumbles about it every day. She eats lunch with him even though he insists he’s fine eating alone and wants her to go away, because she knows he’s lying, and she hangs around the GSA with him sometimes too. She’s lab partners with her brother’s “secret” ex-boyfriend, and is concerned by how quiet he is - she’s seen enough documetaries to know that quiet never means anything good. But unfortunately, she has her own academic drama to deal with - Hazel and Cha-Cha hate her for helping Klaus, and she hates them right back, leading to failing grades in both English and history no matter how brilliant her work is. Mostly, though, Eudora tries to get to know Lila - the pretty, angry, sarcastic emo boy she shares half her classes with, and flirts with every day despite how he ignores her. (ONLY because Lila still smiles and laughs every time she flirts with him, and Eudora knows from Diego that Lila thinks Eudora only flirts with him because it’s some sort of game of “if you get the guy who’s hard to get you win the hundred dollar bet” deal. Otherwise she would’ve backed off immediately because not doing so would be harassment.) Eventually, though, Eudora runs off-field in the middle of a soccer game and over to the stands to ask Lila to prom. Finally, she gets a yes - and, most importantly, a real smile, curled against her own mouth like a Cupid’s bow of promise.

Sissy is Vanya’s ex-girlfriend, and Fuckwad Carl’s current girlfriend. She hooked up with him after breaking up with Vanya, too drunk to even speak, and now her belly’s ballooning and her parents are gonna kick her out unless she marries him like a good Christian woman. And she really didn’t expect herself to tell them to fuck off for this one, but apparently lesbianism makes you do crazy things - so here she is, standing on Ray’s porch in the pouring rain and hoping for the best. She’s depressed and shows that by reading the Bronte sisters; Klaus opens the door for her and brings her notes with doodles all over them which makes her cry; she misses Vanya but hates her for what she did to Diego. And yet Vanya’s there when she goes to the abortion clinic, smiling and joking and holding her hand like always. One day she’ll have a baby and she and Vanya will raise it right, but fuck - that baby sure as hell won’t be Carl’s. (Because fuck that guy.)

Ray is a humanitarian, so, naturally, he’s also the student council president. Five has never mistreated him, because everyone loves and respects Ray, even his critics. He nurtures Allison’s intelligence and encourages Vanya’s musical habits. He tutors Klaus in basically every subject but never talks down to him because he knows the kid’s a genius, just a bit spacey from all the drugs (and the ADHD, let’s be honest). He helps bring Luther out of his shell and takes Lila out shopping for boy clothes, all of which he pays for himself. He’s not scared or offended by Diego’s sarcasm or intensity, instead greeting him every day in class with a new dad joke. He treats Ben to intelligent conversation like an equal and doesn’t let Five be so harsh he’ll regret it later, though he still lets him say what he means and be himself. Everybody knows he’ll be the real President one day - even if for now he wears pajamas to school every day because, in his words, “Clothes are just too much fuckin’ work, man.” (There’s a possibility he may have still been high from hanging out with Klaus that day.)

The Handler is the evil physics teacher. (I don’t know why I said evil clearly all science teachers are evil.) (Yes this is coming from a place of aggression but hey at least I recognize that.) (Plus he deserves it. So fuck you.) (*sticks tongue out*) (Don’t you see how mature I am?) (I’m sorry I’m sorry back to your regularly scheduled programming -) She’s Lila’s mom, and continually and constantly misgenders him (and Five!) in class, not even because she hates trans people, just because she hates him (and Five!). Five always challenges her dictatorial rule, refusing to participate in solidarity with Klaus when she forces Klaus to sit out for wearing skirts. She keeps trying to flunk Ray too, the little bitch, but he just keeps doing so well that she can’t even come up with a falsely plausible reason to fail him! She’s been bribing Hazel and Cha-Cha to flunk certain students for years, unaware that Lila has been stealing from the Handler’s own purse to double those prices for those students to ace their classes. Everybody hates her, and for good reason. I hope she gets fired. (Shut up and let me project onto fictional characters, assholes.)

Reginald is the evil principal and Klaus’ abusive dad. He sends Klaus to school every day in a boys’ “uniform”, which Klaus has to change out of in the bathroom every day with borrowed clothes from Allison. (Anything he owns lives at her house; they have an agreement.) Once Klaus forgot to wash off his nail polish before Reginald came home and he broke all of Klaus’ fingers one by one. (Agnes wants to beat him into dust with a rolling pin.) Klaus stays at Diego’s house a lot, though Klaus refuses to come after they break up even though Diego makes it clear that his door will always be open. Five, therefore, is super protective of Klaus - every time he comes over, he’s super respectful when Klaus is in the room and then verbally rips Reginald to shreds as soon as he’s gone. He once stayed over for an impromptu sleepover when he noticed that Klaus was terrified-ly coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses for Five to stay and not leave him alone with Reginald, and as soon as Klaus was asleep, tiptoed around the house to set up bugs and cameras he got from Ben. He gives all of the evidence to Eudora to deliver to the police, who arrest Reginald and leave him to rot in a cement cell for the rest of his sorry fucking life while Klaus goes on to live Happily Ever After because fuck you and your stupid as shit traditionalism and inhumane experiments you lying scheming fuckwad of a psychopathic monster toad.

Hazel is the exhausted English teacher. His secret? He hates every book he teaches. Also he’s been taking bribes from the Handler and Lila because teachers don’t get paid enough in our society. Also his wife Agnes of twenty years divorced him a year ago for the whole bribery situation and he’s been sleeping in his car and using the school’s facilities to appear fine. Yeah, Hazel’s a mess. ANYWAY - Five is the only one who seems to know what’s going on, and Hazel would like to keep it that way. He knows Klaus is a genius with words but doesn’t know how to tell him that, and he knows Diego’s favorite book is Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and has agreed to take that secret to his grave. (What, it’s a good book!) His class is the only place Diego and Klaus dare to interact, and he’s noticed - they often pair up for assignments and take to the floor or beanbags in the corner, often cuddling up and giggling over whatever book or assignment they’ve been sent off to read or do. Hazel also has another hopeless couple he teaches, Lila and Eudora - eventually Hazel starts leaving Lila’s sappy poems about Eudora on Eudora’s desk when she comes in for her own class (separate from Lila’s) because there is no other way those two idiots are getting together, let’s be honest. There’s just too much communication. Mostly Hazel misses his own wife, Agnes - but he’s been out of luck since he cashed it in with the science department, hot cocoa whore that he is.

Cha-Cha is the history teacher, and she has all the sass and dry sarcasm required for that job. She will beat a bitch up for telling her she can’t teach critical race theory, and plays Drunk History and Overly Sarcastic Productions in her class basically every day. She doesn’t believe in tests because if she did she’d have to grade them, and she likes animated kids’ movies and TV shows, especially Paw Patrol and Sofia the First. (Yes, obviously she’s single. She’s also ace-aro, so who the fuck cares.) She takes the Handler and Lila’s bribes because she runs an underground wrestling ring and would like to continue feeding her pitbulls gourmet food. The only kid she’s truly on edge with is Five, who often challenges her in debates - she can’t decide if she’s impressed or enraged about it. Whatever. School’s out, bitches.

Agnes is the art teacher who knows everything about everybody. All of her art is of donuts. (Of course.) She’s a damn good cook, especially of pizza - and donuts. (Naturally.) She always has munchkins available for her students - and donuts! (She always saves the chocolate glazed and jelly ones for Five and Klaus.) She likes to rap explicit beats in her car and play her music so loud it shakes the ground and you can hear it from miles away. (Obnoxious.) So she doesn’t restrict her kids’ projects because that’s not what art is about. (And because it would make her a hypocrite, obviously.) Sure, she divorced Hazel, but hey - she’s living her best life, and eventually he’ll come to his senses and come crawling back to her at three a.m. to badly lipsync a Justin Bieber song about missing her, and she’ll leap out the window into his giant hairy arms and kiss him on his ginormous teddy bear face. Because Agnes, at heart, is a hippy. (And that’s love, bitch.)

Grace is Diego and Eudora’s (and everybody’s!) mom. She goes out for drinks with Agnes on the weekends and to clubs with Pogo every Friday (the librarian/unofficial therapist who acts as her mouthpiece when Diego does something stupid and won’t listen to her advice, the moron). She’s kind to everyone, but takes no one’s bullshit: you hurt her kids, you die. Important Notice: Everybody Is Her Kid. So be kind to everyone, dickwads. Well - except Reginald. And the Handler. Both of whom she bitchslaps for mistreating her precious babies. She then takes in Klaus because Diego loves him, and Ben because Klaus loves him, and Lila because both Diego ad Eudora love him. The only reason she didn’t take in Sissy was because Ray already had her taken care of. She’s a literal angel sent from heaven and we should all be worshipping her like the goddess she is I’m sorry I don’t know when this became Grace Appreciation Day™ but hey I’m here for it and I have no regrets.

#tua #the umbrella academy #mean girls #i don't even like that movie #i kinda hate it actually #i know i know i'm sorry #anyway #kliego #ralluther #klaus &x ben #vanya x sissy #five &x dolores #eudorla #the crack ship of allison x natalie portman because i'm tired okay #hazel x agnes #hazel & cha cha #the hargreeves #the hargreeves & friends #i don't know what this is #fuck you reginald #trans boy lila because i said so #trans five because it's canon #enjoy this mess fuckers #i have no idea what i'm doing #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves

[benedictscanvas]

all the wrong places [1/7] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

a chapter every day for seven days! (20-26th July 2020) so please drop an ask if you’d like to be tagged <3

---

Chapter One - The Element of Surprise

The Monday morning was entirely normal in every way, apart from the fact that Spencer had been impromptu ring shopping the day before, alone, and had bought what he believed to be the perfect ring. It was in his satchel, because if there was one thing you would never mess with, it was his satchel. There was nowhere safer, but his palms were sweating as the two of you took the elevator up to your floor anyway and he had to wipe them on his cardigan twice.

So perhaps it wasn’t a normal Monday morning.

“Good morning, lovebirds!” Derek called as you both walked through the glass doors and greeted him with smiles, “Have a nice weekend?”

Oh, shit. In all his planning and scheming and panicking, he had forgotten the excuse he had used on Sunday to go ring shopping without any questioning.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Spencer said, slipping on his shoes, “If you’d rather I cancelled, stayed home with you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Spence, it’s fine! Go have your special BFF lunch with Derek, I’ve got plenty to be getting on with here,” you said seriously, getting up from your chair to meet him at the door, “Love you.”

You kissed him, lingering a little too long, or not long enough maybe, before shooing him out of the door with a loving smile.

But there had been no BFF lunch, no lunch at all, in fact, because he had forgotten to eat entirely as he went from shop to shop in desperation. And now he had to think on his feet before Derek ruined everything.

“Would’ve had a nicer weekend if you hadn’t taken this one away from me most of Sunday,” you said playfully, leaning into Spencer with a hand on his chest and he wrapped an arm around your waist despite his internal turmoil, because it was the most natural thing in the world.

Derek’s brow furrowed, but Spencer’s eyes widened as he stared at Derek over the top of your head. He just stared, wide-eyed, until their gazes met and Spencer made the best face he could to tell him what he needed to know.

Go with it. Just fucking go with it!

“Well, you know me,” Derek chuckled and though Spencer thought it sounded awkward he was really hoping you didn’t, “Can’t be kept from my pretty boy for long! In fact, I need to talk to him now.”

“Again?” you rolled your eyes but you were already pushing away from Spencer and he already missed you, “You two boys and your guy talk. I’ll leave you to it.”

You squeezed Spencer’s forearm before you left, a silent declaration, and soon you were sitting on Emily’s desk and chatting away like nothing weird had just happened. You didn’t look shifty or like you were talking about him. He sighed in relief. He was safe for now.

“You mind telling me-”

“Not here,” Spencer hissed, eyes darting around the bullpen, “Come on!”

And with that, he lead Derek to the coffee room even though he looked decidedly less than impressed by what he’d been dragged into. When they got there, Spencer shut the door behind them and turned to Derek, whose arms were folded across his chest.

“What in the hell are you playing at, Reid? Why are you using me to lie to Y/N?”

“Woah woah, lie is not the right word. Well, it is the right word but it doesn’t sound right. I’m not lying to Y/N, I would never lie to her, I love her Derek, you know that and actually that’s part of why this is happening because I lov-”

“Pretty boy. Slow down. Explain it to me in as few words as you can manage.”

Spencer finally took in a breath and let it out slowly. He fought to find his words, and luckily Derek stayed quiet while he tried to find them.

“I told Y/N you invited me to lunch because I needed to go ring shopping,” he eventually said, all matter of fact, despite the fact that Derek’s eyes were bugging out of his head, “I needed an excuse to go out. Sorry for dragging you into this.”

Did Derek have tears in his eyes? He definitely had tears in his eyes.

“My man!” he exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder after a few moments of processing, “I’m so proud of you, Reid. You could’ve invited me to come with you, you know.”

“If I was inviting anyone, it would’ve been JJ,” Spencer said without hesitation, and Derek scoffed goodnaturedly, “But I didn’t even invite her. I don’t know, I-I like to think I know Y/N better than...better than anyone.”

His voice got quiet towards the end. He knew that a lot of people didn’t go ring shopping on their own, but he just felt like he knew what you would like. Understated, with a flash of sparkle that you could grin at under the low lights of the jet on the way back from a case. It was exactly what he’d found, four hours in.

“You do, kid,” Derek reassured him, before his eyes glinted with something mischievous, “Now, are you gonna show me the ring or what?”

Spencer chuckled, but he couldn’t stop smiling now that his best friend knew of his plans, so he took the box out of his satchel and opened it. Derek bit his lip.

“You think she’ll like it?”

Derek just nodded, opening his arms and bringing him in for a rare hug. Spencer could tell it was a ‘proud’ hug. It only made him grin more. When they pulled away from each other, Derek started on making the two of them coffee, since returning from the room without one would make them look suspicious. Spencer made sure to get out a third mug so he could take you one as well.

“So when are you doing it? You’ve brought it with you today, have you got something planned?”

“No!” he replied, almost too loudly, “No, no. I have...literally nothing planned. I don’t know how or when or where to do any of it. It has to be perfect, you know?”

“However you do it will be perfect to her, because she loves you,” Derek said seriously, even though he was still focused on the coffee, “But you want my advice?”

Spencer didn’t say anything, because Derek was going to give his advice anyway.

“Element of surprise. That’s what’s gonna work with Y/N. You wait too long and she’ll start to get an idea that you’re gonna do it. She’s a damn good profiler. You want to do it soon to make sure she never sees it coming.”

That was...not bad advice from Derek. He’d given him much worse advice before. Especially when it came to women. Whilst Spencer liked to think he was well past the point where he needed Derek’s advice on the female mind, perhaps in this case it wasn’t the worst advice he could take.

“Thanks, Derek. I’ll think on it.”

“Just don’t think too long!” Derek announced happily, grabbing his mug and letting Spencer grab his own and yours. But there was so much to think about, it was bound to take him awhile. He re-entered the bullpen, pace slow as he concentrated on not spilling a drop, finding you had settled down at your desk for a day of paperwork that would most likely be interrupted by an incoming case at any moment. It was a miracle he’d even had time for his chat with Derek, really.

He placed the mug on your desk without a word and you startled a little at the action.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly but you shook your head.

“I really need to get less jumpy,” you laughed, “Thanks for the coffee, babe.”

“No worries,” he said easily, but his hand was toying with the tiny box over the leather of his satchel. Could he just…? No surely not...but maybe…? Spontaneity was important right? And this was where you met, all those years ago. Where you became best friends in a matter of months. Where you fell in love in the late hours of the evening when almost everyone else had vanished.

“Y/N…”

He began to kneel down, but you didn’t even turn to face him. Instead, you scoffed. You scoffed.

“You need me to teach you how to do your laces again, Reid?” you asked jokingly, as he knelt on the floor beside your chair, looking up at you dumbfounded, “How you’ve never tripped over yourself on a case, I do not know.”

It clicked. You thought he was redoing his laces. His face fell, but you weren’t even watching, so it didn’t matter. There was no way he was going through with this stupid, spontaneous plan now. How had he ever thought this was a good idea? Somehow, he had managed to surprise himself so much with his actions that you hadn’t even realised what was happening.

“Actually, I have tripped on a case before,” he managed to get out after a few moments, “Before you joined the team.”

And this time, you turned to him, just as he pretended to finish redoing his laces and stood up. He was a good bit taller than you standing, so he towered above you when you sat down. You looked up at him playfully and reached out to play with the end of his cardigan. He blushed despite himself.

“Now that is a story I just have to-”

“Conference room, now.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the exchange and you sat back and away from Spencer in an instant. You were both used to being professional when it came to cases, letting your chemistry seemingly disappear when it was necessary before sparking it back up on the jet back home. So you stood without touching him again and tilted your head towards Hotch.

“Better listen to the boss,” you said with a sigh, packing up your desk. Spencer hadn’t even started work yet, it felt like. He’d been just a little preoccupied, “But you’ll tell me that story later, right?”

“I will,” he confirmed and you gave him that look. You could communicate very well through looks. This one told him that you would definitely have kissed him if you weren’t at work. He didn’t even realise he was smirking.

You just nudged him with your elbow on your way past and he followed you as you hopped up the steps to where the rest of the team were headed. There was a joke exchanged between you and Dave on the way, and your laugh floated backwards to him.

He really needed to come up with a plan. A decent one.

---

series tags! (ily all <3)

@mrs-dr-reid @soda610 @alexxcorona113 @thupidalethea @may-beforejune-afterapril @ilovesupersoldiers @hurricanejjareau​

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff

[thingswhatareawesome]

oh, my dreams (never quite as it seems)

title: oh, my dreams (never quite as it seems) fandom: Tiger and Bunny pairing: Barnaby/Kotetsu (taibani) word count: 2150 summary: Kotetsu’s been having these dreams for most of his life. But they don’t mean anything, right? They’re just some strange coincidence, right? There’s no such thing as soulmates, right?

For the For the March Flash Fiction day two prompt: “Looking for me?”

I know I felt like this before But now I'm feeling it even more Because it came from you

The first time it happened, Kotetsu was young. He and Tomoe had just gotten engaged and were discussing moving to Stern Bild City so he could try to catch the attention of a sponsor and get hired as a hero. Normally not very prone to dreaming, especially with as exhausted as they were after days packed with wedding planning and packing for the move, plus his training and trying to find work, one night he slipped into a strangely clear and coherent dream.

He was being stared down by a scowling blond man who looked just a bit older than him, with a stern face and cold green eyes behind his glasses, wearing a strange mecha-looking suit. The man eventually sighed and gave a frustrated huff. “I thought you were looking for me.”

“Buddy, I have no idea who you even are,” Kotetsu sassed, then abruptly woke up. Blinking up at the ceiling, he thought, what the hell?

Kotetsu forgot the dream soon after, and would have forever if not for it happening again. Life was amazing, everything was going just great! Except Kotetsu was so busy his head spun and it felt like he couldn’t manage to remember everything with all that was going on. He was a hero! And it was everything he hoped for! Mostly! When his sponsors weren’t yelling at him about damages and Ben wasn’t aggravated because he kept doing what he wanted and not what the higher ups at Hero TV wanted! And Tomoe was pregnant! He was going to be a dad to a little girl!  

Then one night he dreamt of that frowning man again, who looked at him and asked, “You said you were looking for me?”

Kotetsu stared and stammered, “I, shit, did I forget something? Did I have an appointment with you? Was it an interview? Did Tomoe need me to get something from you for the nursery?” He flailed and patted at his pockets. “To do list, to do list, oh man, did I lose it?”

The blond man rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his long, swoopy-curled hair with a sigh that suddenly sounded familiar. “Never mind.”

And then Kotetsu woke up, Tomoe laying on his now numb and asleep right arm, and he murmured, “Huh. Stress is really getting to me.”

*

The next time the dream happened, Tomoe was gone. His daughter was in a different city, living with his mother. And Kotetsu was alone. Alone in his apartment, alone in his bed, alone in a sprawling, bustling city where no one really gave a crap about him.

Kotetsu thought he was asleep, but his eyes were open and he was staring up at the shadowed ceiling, and that guy was there in his room, just standing there looking at him. Except this time he was in normal clothes, pants and boots and a red leather jacket. He was frowning like the other times, but different somehow, like he wasn’t so much angry as just…serious, somber, somehow. Concerned, maybe? A little bit.

“Were you…looking for me?” the man asked quietly.

“No.” Kotetsu paused, blinked slowly as he thought for a long moment. “I don’t think I’m looking for anyone or anything anymore.” The only person he wanted to look for was far, far beyond his reach. “But. I. I dunno, I guess…I could use a bit of company for a little bit? If that’s okay.”

The blond man nodded, and Kotetsu felt his eyes flutter, then close, suddenly so very heavy. The last thing he felt before sinking into sleep was the sensation of someone brushing his hair back from his forehead and running a finger every so gently beneath his damp eyes.

*

Five years later, Kotetsu met Barnaby Brooks Jr.

Back at home after that bizzarre day, remembering those three old dreams and thinking about getting caught like a damsel in distress earlier as he fell, being called old man, *and* being shown up on live TV by the aggravating new guy (that somehow he knew??), he rubbed at his face with his hands roughly.

“What,” Kotetsu said to the empty room, “the fuck?”

*

Not long after that, his mother told a tale during one of their phone calls of people who sometimes dreamed of soulmates. Usually, she lectured, the dreams would happen over and over, only ceasing when an emotional connection was formed—like a close friendship or even a romantic relationship. Those whose hearts formed a special bond of love would even begin to see a red string connecting each other.

Kotetsu had snorted and waved a hand to make her stop. Nah, no way, no how was he believing in that sort of cheesy crap. And anyway, he’d already found his soulmate, and lost her, and no young upstart was ever going to be anything like Tomoe had been for him.

*

Well. Okay. Maybe Bunny would end up a friend after all. A good friend. A bona fide partner even. And Kotetsu would do anything for him.

But soulmate? Bunny would surely never let him *that* close. And certainly it would never be romantic love. Tomoe had been it for him. Kotetsu reminded himself of that, swore it to himself, more and more often, each restless night when it was just him in the quiet and dark, or during the day when he caught sight of Bunny and felt a strange pang in his chest, sharp behind his sternum. Tomoe had been *it*, he thought again, feeling the solidness of his wedding ring digging into his finger as he clenched his fist.

And anyway, the dreams had stopped, Kotetsu thought to himself. It’d been years. So whatever connection had already happened, right?

Plus soulmates weren’t real so the dreams stopping was just a random thing that didn’t mean anything anyway. Right?

*

Then the dream happened again. After…after he’d hurt Bunny, by not telling him about losing his powers or wanting to retire, by not trusting him. By *slapping* him. When Kotetsu fell asleep while waiting for Samantha Taylor to return to her home, he saw Bunny walking away from him into an endless expanse of darkness. “Bunny,” he shouted, running to chase after him, reaching and reaching for him, hand outstretched to try to grab him, but he could never manage to get close enough. “Bunny! I’m sorry! I’m looking for you, please, I’m looking for you! Where are you?”

He woke on an unfamiliar couch, mumbling “Where are you?” out loud as he slipped from dream to reality. But then everything blew up in his face, almost literally, and Kotetsu was too busy running for his life and trying to figure out what bizzarro world he was in where no one remembered him to wonder or worry why the dream had returned.

Or why it had changed.

*

Everything was fine. Everything was good. Great, even! Kotetsu retired and moved back home, where ha could be around his daughter and his family, and could be there for Kaede as she learned more and more about her new NEXT powers. He could be there to help his brother at his store when needed, and could help his mother with her garden and with fixing up the house. He was useful!

He was…just sitting around the house, to be honest. A lot. He was so uncool and boring, according to Kaede. He was…

He was missing Bunny. And he was having the dreams again.

A lot.

The dreams were always the same now. Similar to the one he’d had that night at Samantha Taylor’s home, Bunny would be walking away from Kotetsu, never stopping or turning back. Kotetsu would reach out for him but never catch him—though he didn’t shout at Bunny with the same deperation as he had in that earlier dream. Now, he just called out for Bunny, saying “I’m looking for you!” like he was calling to Kaede when she got too far ahead in a crowd and he couldn’t see her. Or sometimes in a tone of voice like Kotetsu had spotted an old school friend across the street, friendly and delighted. Or sometimes yelling to Bunny while sounding oddly lonely and wistful.

And sometimes he’d call out for Bunny flirtatiously, with a lilt to his voice like he used to do when he was being playful and silly with Tomoe.

Huh. Interesting.

Those times, when he woke from the dream, Kotetsu would think Oh. Is that how it is now? Is it? Maybe?

But not like he would ever try to find Bunny and see if the new dreams meant anything. Bunny was getting to live his own life now, finally. And he deserved that—and Kotetsu would do anything to make sure it stayed that way. He could put up with a few dreams if it meant that somewhere out there, Bunny was truly enjoying his life and was happy.

Though the sitting around the house thing, the being an uncool dad thing, the kind of sort of maybe missing being a hero thing? Those, he could do something about. There surely was a way Kotetsu could try again. Make the best of his situation. Kotetsu had Ideas!

*

Being a Second League hero wasn’t so bad. Sure, sometimes he messed up or looked foolish, sometimes the network or fans made fun of him, but that wasn’t all that different than First League had been. And Kotetsu was there on his own terms, making the best of it, and he wasn’t ever going to give up. Not anymore. Wild Tiger was never going to be a quitter, ever again.

Not even when he got caught like a princess needing rescuing yet *again*. Not even when he was going to get written up for damages to some dumb car (and this time it wasn’t even his fault!)

Because Bunny was back, and the way he’d said, “Because I’m your partner” had left Kotetsu feeling like he could soar through the air like Sky High—even as he and Bunny decended into bickering.

Because Bunny was *back*. Bunny was back *for him*.

*

It was like a breath of fresh air to spend time with Bunny again, like something loosened and relaxed in Kotatsu that he hadn’t realized had been tense. Staring out at the night sky and the patchwork quilt of city lights below while on the balcony of Bunny’s new penthouse apartment, Kotetsu marvelled at how light he felt, how hopeful and free. They’d reuinited, and he felt like he was at the start of some big adventure, excitement making him eager to venture forth.

From inside, he heard Bunny calling his name. “I’m out here,” Kotetsu hollered back over his shoulder in response.

Bunny pushed aside the curtains, slipping out through the sliding door. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

Something suddenly made Kotetsu pause and blink, twisting sharply to look at Bunny. Something about the soft curve of Bunny’s smile, the glint of the starlight reflected in his eyes, even through his glasses. The moment felt like something out of a dream. His heart skipped a beat.

“Were you? Looking for me?” he murmured. The moment felt almost fragile, like he was cradling something crystalline in his hands.

Bunny’s eyes widened and he stared at Kotetsu almost as if seeing him for the first time. A long silence fell, and Kotetsu realized he was holding his breath. Then, tentatively, Bunny responded, “yes. Always. I—,” he looked away, biting his lip, then his gaze snapped sharply back to Kotetsu’s as if pulled by a magnet. “Kotetsu,” he said firmly, and a shivering spark shot up Kotetsu’s spine at the use of his actual name, “were you looking for me, too?”

“Oh, Bunny,” Kotetsu reached out carefully to grasp Bunny’s arm, then trailed his fingers down until he could clasp his hand, interlacing their fingers, his skin tingling when the younger man allowed it. The physical touch, the feeling of smooth, warm skin and a firm grip, made everything seem to solidify and suddenly feel real again. For a brief second, he thought he caught a glimpse of something shimmering red and threadlike in the dim light, trailing from his hand and leading to Bunny’s. “I’ve been looking for you for so, so long, you don’t even know.”

Then Bunny smiled, wider and brighter than Kotetsu had ever seen before, his eyes crinkling, and Kotetsu felt the same firework burst of joy in his heart that was there on Bunny’s face, like every dream either of them had ever had, in an instant all at once came true. Then I open up and see The person falling here is me A different way to be

#tiger and bunny #taibani #fanfiction #March Flash Fiction #fluff with a hint of angst #of dreams soulmates the red string of fate and falling in love

[canonicallysoulmates]

Walker 1.05

This was a fun episode!

Let’s jump right into it, this week there’s not so much a case, it’s more Cordell dealing with the consequences of his child being an idiot. By which I mean that’s the point of the whole episode. 

If you didn’t watch last week’s epi, do so it was good, but August, sweet child that he is is as dumb as bricks and in a moment of stupidity he contacted a woman that knew his dad when he was undercover from his undercover phone so she thinks he’s out of prison, and guess where the woman was at? If you said Austin, Texas you’d be right so in this episode Cordell has to go back undercover to try and get this woman the hell of Texas before she finds out the truth, problem is she’s tapped out and thinks he has the money from their last job. The whole episode revolves around him having to go back undercover, without telling anybody, and then, along with Mickie because his job finds out about what he’s doing curtesy of the FBI that has the girls phone wired, trying to bring this girlie and this other dude that used to work with them down. 

I really liked seeing Walker go undercover, I even liked his undercover persona Duke, he is a bad boy but with a conscious; so that was fun, I hope it’s something we see again cause going undercover does not automatically mean taking month long assignments. 

It was also a blast to see Micki join him, that girl is quick on her feet and always with a plan much to Walker’s fortune cause if it wasn’t for her he might not have made it home to his kids cause girlie and the dude they used to work with are insistent that he took the 300k from their last job. 

But thanks to Micki thinking fast on her feet they decide to do a new job to get the money that’s needed and conveniently it just so happens that the dude that used to be the leader of the group left a gig prepped and ready to go. But before they can go ahead and do the job Cordell or in this case Duke remembers where the money is, get’s backstabbed by girlie and fakes his death during a standoff with the police. So, as far as the girl is concerned Duke is dead.

And that’s the focus of the episode! There was also a mini thing going on on the side with his kids but we’ll get to that in a minute.

Through out the episode we also get some flashbacks, but they’re not wife related hallelujah  they are about Cordell’s time undercover. And I am happy to say that the flashbacks were properly done, for the first time they contributed to the story and didn’t mess up the flow; through them we get to learn a bit more about Walker’s undercover persona including the fact that Duke......lost his brother. I was eating when that man said that and it took everything in me to not choke. 

Let’s talk about the best part: shirtless Walker. We get not one, but two scenes including some close ups of that man without a shirt! That by itself is reason alone to see this episode; the show needs more of that please and thank you 🔥

Okay, let’s talk about his kids cause along all the fun and action there were his kids bringing down the party. First up Stella, she’s not that bad in this epi she’s just upset cause her dad couldn’t attend her soccer game/practice but it’s hard to feel bad for her when being upset and not understanding of her dad is becoming her only character trait. She does have a nice conversation with Trey who btw is her new soccer coach he is now working at the kids school which is great, I think he’s gonna be a good influence on them.

The big problem was: August. I wanna slap that kid so badly, I know Walker was hurt by his words, I know he doesn’t want his kids to hate him and whatnot but I really wish that he had given him a talking too and scolded him because August in his infinite idiocy tracked down his dad while he was undercover to confront him thinking Cordell is going to leave again as if he had just mysteriously disappeared the first time and not gone undercover as part of his job which seriously these children’s lack of understanding and knowledge of basic aspects of their father’s job is shocking considering they grew up in a law enforcement home. But anyways he tracked him down and is yelling at him, almost breaking his cover in front of the two people he used to work with, at best he could have cause his dad his job or at the very least put it on the line cause if his cover breaks the case is a bust and they can’t take those two people down, but at worst he could have cost his dad, Micki, the friend who drove him their life those people have killed before and they are trigger happy they find out Duke is actually Cordell they gonna shot first ask questions later.

He is so unbelievably stupid, I really wish that Cordell has sat down and told him why he can’t do that shit ever again, and by that I don’t mean softly telling him I had to yell at you to get you away buddy, no I mean tell him to his face that he could have cost people their life. All it would have taken is one quick call to the uncle who took him in and raised him for almost a year like he was his own and asking if his dad had to leave again for him to find out that no, he was just doing his fucking job. But this kid! Fruit flies are smarter than him. 

And those were honestly, the worst part of the episode, his scenes. 

I get that these kids have issues, but the writers have got to dial it down cause it’s becoming their main character trait and annoying; these are not 8 year olds they are teenagers whose dad has always worked in law enforcement, whose uncle is DA, they have tv, movies, books, the internet, they should at the very least have a basic understanding of what something like going undercover means enough that they don’t almost expose their dad. 

There’s still some things they need to fix, but idiocy of August aside this was a pretty solid episode- it would have been even better if the story of him having to go back undercover had extended past this episode and this had either been an official two parter or the story had lasted until the next epi cause then they could have really played with it, I would have really liked to see more of that but also I kinda doubt the realism of all that happened taking place in just one single day. 

Nonetheless, I really enjoyed this episode and while I’ve liked every episode of this series so far and I’d happily re-watch, and I most likely will in the future, this might be the first one that I’d look up and re-watch for the fun of it not as part of a season re-watch or because I wanna remember something. And no, I’m not just saying that because Cordell is shirtless! Although that is some mighty good incentive, this is just, imo, the most fun episode they’ve done so far. 

#i wanna see more episode like this but with less of the kids being annoying #also more of walker taking his clothes off #walker spoilers #walker #walker 1.05 #opinion on walker #mine

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Luke 1:19

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Almost done! It's not quite wrapped up - an epilogue is coming - but we're almost there!

***

“I say you should let me destroy him.”

“It was not his fault. One of yours was controlling him.”

“Demons cannot create darkness from nothing. They always work on what’s already there, to make it grow and take hold. Hastur will be punished once I get my hands on him, but this human is not innocent either.”

“No one is innocent, that can hardly be held against him. Without the heavy-handed intervention of a Duke of Hell, any dark thoughts he may have had would have remained thoughts, never acted upon. Not the way things played out, at any rate.”

“Does it make any difference?”

“It does, and you know it. All the difference in the world,” was the reply. Beelzebub scoffed, but did not argue further. They just crossed their arms and stayed behind as Gabriel stepped right in front of the man who had stabbed him, who stood still with a horrified expression on his face. 

Gabriel picked up the knife that had been dropped on the ground, pocketed it, and pressed a hand on the man’s forehead. The horrified expression melted into a distant, blank gaze. 

“Now, if you please,” he said. Several steps away, with the expression of someone who’d rather be quite literally anywhere else in creation - except, perhaps, in the presence of Satan himself - Crowley lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, undoing the time-stopping miracle he’d conjured.

Right away, the stillness was broken. People who’d stopped mid-stride began moving again, cries of alarm that had been cut short rang out once again, and the man - Noah, was it? - staggered back, blinking at Gabriel as though he had no idea how he’d even come to be there. 

From his part, Gabriel gave him a wide, stupid smile. Blood had been miracled away almost as soon as the two of them had broken apart - which did, admittedly, take a minute or two - but the front of his suit was red regardless. To be entirely honest, when he’d asked Aziraphale for some red ink and then proceeded to splash it on the front of his suit, they all had looked at him like he had lost his mind. Beelzebub had thought God had taken his brain in exchange for the wings, but now they could at least see what the archangel had been planning. 

“Noah!” said archangel was exclaiming, face lighting up. “Long time no see! How are you?”

The man blinked another couple of times, reaching up to rub his head. “What am I doing-- where-- wait, I… I remember you, don’t I? You gave me your coat. But what just… my head...”

“Sir! Are you all right! What is-- oh.” 

A man - one of several humans who’d quickly approached to see what was happening, or at least had begun to before Crowley so conveniently stopped time - stopped in his tracks. Gabriel grinned. “Ah, I’m fine, I’m fine! I didn’t watch where I was going and the gentleman here knocked me over, that is all. Entirely by accident.”

“Oh. It... it looked like--” a few pairs of eyes paused on the red stain on Gabriel’s clothing.

"An unfortunate end for an ink cartridge, I am afraid, but no harm done other than that."

“Ah.” A long sigh, while Noah kept looking around in obvious confusion. “Ah, thank God. For a moment we thought you were wounded.”

“Thank God indeed, I am not wounded,” Gabriel replied, voice smooth, and reached to put an arm around Noah’s shoulders. “But forget the ink, I think we should catch up…”

The young man - who would soon leave Soho with a dulling headache, still unsure of what had happened, and with a winning lottery ticket in the back pocket of his jeans - followed, and the crowd dispersed, the incident closed as far as humanity was concerned.

Well. Most of humanity, at any rate.

***

“More tea, Warlock?”

“You gave me three cups already.”

“Right. Right. It is cold by now, isn’t it? I will make more.”

“... Brother Francis. You do realize I am not going to stop asking what the hell happened just because you keep giving me tea, right?”

Ah. Well. Perhaps it had been a slightly foolish hope, that. Tea did have a tendency to smooth over a lot of trouble, but that was probably a little beyond its scope. “Well,” he said, putting up a smile. “I for one would very much appreciate it if you could

“That bloke had wings.”

“Yes, well--”

“And he was stabbed, but then he was fine.”

“You see--”

“And that was not normal lighting.”

“Actually, I was just reading about this interesting phenomena calling ball lighting--”

“And you had wings,” Warlock cut him off once again, glancing over where Aziraphale’s wings would be if he hadn’t temporarily tucked them away on another plane of existence. “Where did you put them?”

“That is… quite the handful of questions.”

“A lot of weird shit happened.”

“Language, young man.”

“You tell me what happened, and I’ll start talking like a duke.”

“Not like the duke who caused this mess, I should hope,” Crowley spoke up, walking - more like sauntering, he never walked like that when he was his nanny - back into the bookstore. Brother Francis, whom Warlock was beginning to suspect was not called Brother Francis at all, finally set down the tea pot to look back at him. 

“Is everything sorted?”

“Yes. Nothing of consequence happened, happily ever after, and most importantly Beelzebub and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel have left.”

“Actually, I am still here.”

“Gah!” Crowley yelped, actually leaping a couple of feet up in the air before turning. The bloke-who’d-been-stabbed-and-then-suddenly-had-wings was standing in the doorway, the splatters of red ink gone from his suit and wings no longer visible. He looked… rather pleased with himself for the reaction he’d solicited. “Why are you still here? Wait, is Beelzebub--?”

“They are off to find the runaway, luckily for you. Your forked tongue keeps slipping far too often, Crowley. Keep that up and you may end up giving your little rouse away, sunshine.”

“Sunshine, me? Have you hit your--” Crowley began, only to trail off as though struck in the face. “Ah. Fuck,” he muttered, the annoyance giving way to something a lot more similar to fear. Behind Warlock, Brother Francis cleared his throat, passing the tea pot from one hand to the other and then back again.

“When… when did you figure it out?” he asked. That bunch of weirdos was making less and less sense with each passing moment.

“The third or fourth time he added that expletive between my title and my name in my presence, I suppose.” The man grinned, more than a touch smug, before shrugging. “You need not worry. I will make no mention of it with anyone.”

“We’d be… grateful if you didn’t,” Brother Francis said.

“Speak for yourself,” Crowley muttered, clearly mightily annoyed.

“I owe you too much to do such a thing.” The man made a gesture as though to zip his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed. Ah, and I am glad to see the young man is all right, of course.” The man nodded towards Warlock. “I’m relieved you were unharmed.”

“Huh. I… yeah. That’s gonna be a fun story to tell a therapist one day. Thanks for pulling me out of the way, I guess.”

“You are quite welcome. I am here to thank you as well, Aziraphale,” the man added, turning to Brother Francis, whose name definitely wasn’t Brother Francis after all. “For all your help.”

“Oh. It was nothing.”

“It was far more than I had any right to ask of you.”

“To be fair, you didn’t ask.”

“And you took me in anyway. You do have a lot to teach about the greater good after all, but I assume you’d prefer not to be further involved in the workings upstairs. Am I correct?”

A nod. “Quite correct, as a matter of fact.”

“Well then, I will leave you be. Time to see if I learned the lesson I was meant to learn, I suppose.”

“... Back to your hold position, then?”

“I suppose. I will have to see what Metatron will tell me once I return to Heaven. If I am indeed to return to my duties, I will need to serve notice at the warehouse back in Southampton.”

Ah, great. So everyone here is going insane. Cool, cool. 

As Warlock sipped lukewarm tea just to keep himself from laughing a little hysterically, the man he’d known as Brother Francis and who probably was neither thing nodded, and held out a hand. “Best of luck, then,” he smiled. “And thank you for saving Warlock. Crowley and I are quite fond of the boy. You have more than repaid any debt you may have had.” 

Behind the man Crowley opened his mouth as though to protest, paused a moment, and then begrudgingly closed it. Warlock was not entirely sure why that made him grin into the cup, but it did. Not that it kept him from yelping and dropping said cup to shatter on the floor with a loud ‘fuck’  when a bolt of lighting suddenly struck inside the bookshop, blinding him for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, blinking a few times, the man was gone and the bolt of lightning seemed to have caused no damage. Well, aside from the shattered cup he had dropped, which now Brother Francis was picking up and… magically putting back in one piece. 

Okay. Okay. Okay. 

“What the--”

“Language if you please.” The man who had once been his family’s gardener cleared his throat, and put the mended cup on the table before glancing at Crowley. “Well, I suppose we do owe him an explanation.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“So are Adam’s friends, and they clearly could handle it.”

A sigh. “Fair,” Crowley muttered, and sat down as well before he reached up to take off his glasses. Warlock had never seen him without glasses, even when he was his nanny… and as he took a look at his eyes, he suddenly knew why. He stared, mouth hanging open, as Crowley scratched the back of his head. “All right, it’s a long story,” he began. “So, in the beginning - which is to say, the Beginning with a capital B…”

***

“Archangel Gabriel. It is good to see you again.”

“Metatron. It’s good to see you as well. Am I really meant to return to my old position?”

“That is the will of God. With immediate effect.”

“Ah, I am afraid I need some time.”

“Oh?”

“I need to hand in my notice at my current workplace. It would be unprofessional of me to simply walk away on them.”

“Ah, I see. I am certain that can be arranged - would it help if they happened to find a perfect fit for the job right after you notice is handed in?”

“It would be much appreciated.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“... Does God have any instructions as to what plan I am meant to follow now?”

“You know the answer, Gabriel. You need to forget there was ever a plan, and do what you think is right. You, and everybody else.”

“We may get it wrong.”

“That’s part of the package, is it not?’

“Hah. Fair enough.”

“Rest assured, however, that any mistakes made in good faith will not be dealt with as… severely as your previous crime.”

“That is a relief. However, I ought to disclose that I have grown quite... close... to Lord Beelzebub in my time on Earth. Certainly, God must be aware.”

“God knows all, including your most questionable taste.”

“... Are those God’s own words, or…?”

“My own. But I am here to speak for God, so my apologies for the lapse.”

“Right. And… the Lord does not believe this impedes my return to duty?”

“Clearly not, if you’re standing here before me.”

“... I am not going to renounce Beelzebub. I told them as much and I will repeat it before the Lord.”

“God is aware of that as well. They have been following your eventful stay on Earth very closely. It will be interesting to see how Heaven and Hell are both going from here. Change is the only certainty going forward. That, and the fact you were never forsaken. No one ever is.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, Archangel Gabriel - do you wish me to announce your return?”

“No, no, no need. I believe I will drop by to see my colleagues myself.”

***

“Hastur is nowhere to be found in Hell, Lord Beelzebub.”

“Hmph, of course he’s not so dumb he’d try to return. I want everyone to know that when found, he must be captured and brought to me.”

“As you wish. On what charge?”

“He disobeyed my direct order by approaching the traitor. Now go spread the word.”

“Of course, Lord Beelzebub.”

With Dagon gone, the Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies sat back heavily on their throne and rubbed their forehead, trying to quell a growing headache and make some sense out of the event of what was supposed to be an uneventful day, at least according to the original plan.

Plans really cannot be trusted anymore, it seems.

With a grunt, Beelzebub turned their gaze on the small table right by, where - among a few mugs of dubious taste - sat a folder. Last they had laid their eyes on it, the name Gabriel F. Archer had been written on it in blood, or rather in red ink that was purposely meant to look like blood. Now, however, the folder was blank - as were the papers in it, no doubt. There no longer was any human by that name whose sins they had to keep track of. 

There was only the Archangel Gabriel. 

By all logic, that ought to be the end of everything that there may have been between them. Except that the idiot had grasped their hands before they returned to Hell, looked at them in the eye and said, “I will not deny you”.

“Even your precious concierge upstairs denied Yeshua when push came to shove. Three times.”

“I will never.”

“What if it leads to another fall?”

“I survived the first. I can take another.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I am aware.”

Beelzebub scoffed, but a smile was curling their lips as they reached to take the blank, useless folder. It burst into flames the next moment, igniting a few of the flies buzzing around their head before they let it fall on the round - there it crumbled quietly, into ash.

***

“Ugh, where’s the folder…”

Michael rubbed her forehead with a groan, coming to the realization she was really not really meant for record-keeping. Truth be told, that was a conclusion she had come to on almost a weekly basis since Gabriel had been dismissed. She’d take on fourteen wars to end all wars rather than having to keep grappling with what had been the bulk of Gabriel’s job, but alas--

“Any particular folder you’re looking for?”

Ah, speak of the devil. Or rather, speak of the archangel. 

“The one concerning renovations of the third sphere,” Michael muttered, looking up at the wall full of… nothing but folders. Paper copies were kept even after everything had been digitized, and Michael had figured finding the physical copy would be quicker than trying her luck with the password she had written down and then misplaced a week earlier.

Gabriel chuckled. “It’s just a little on your left, fifth shelf from bottom, about midway.”

Ah, yes, there it was. “Thanks,” Michael said, and reached to take it out. 

Then she froze. And blinked. And then she slowly, slowly turned.

Standing in the doorway of his office, impeccable in a light grey suit and pink tie, Gabriel grinned. “Security has gone downhill since I left,” he said. “Just letting a mortal wander right in.”

Michael opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She worked her jaw a few moments, trying and failing to find words. “You’re not a mortal,” she finally managed. He clearly was not, giving off the kind of power only a celestial being could give. 

Gabriel’s grin widened. “No longer,” he said, and suddenly unfolded his wings, causing Michael to recoil in surprise. Not his old wings, the ones she cut and tore away herself; it was something different. The golden brown of the feathers was at odds with the immaculate white of their surroundings, but it was wings nonetheless and not the scorched black that set demons apart. The being before her was the same being she had known since almost the beginning of time. 

I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God.

For a long moment, Michael could only stare. Gabriel’s grin faded a little before he cleared his throat and folded his wings, maybe somewhat embarrassed by the display. “My apologies for startling you, I figured I’d--” he began, but Michael crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides, and pulled him in a tight embrace before he could add anything else.

Not something Michael was usually keen on doing, that, but she felt the situation warranted it - and as he returned it after only a moment of confusion, she knew he thought the same. “No one will take your wings ever again,” Michael heard herself saying, and Gabriel chuckled. 

“Not even if God orders so?”

“Especially not if God orders so.”

Until little less than a year earlier - the blink of an eye, really, in the context of his existence - Gabriel would have been both horrified and stunned to hear such words from Michael of all people, and would have hardly believed she meant it. Now he clearly did know she meant it, and he seemed neither horrified nor stunned. He pulled back with a smile. 

“It’s good to be back.”

“Good to have you back.” Michael cleared her throat and straightened herself, deciding she had shown enough unguarded emotion for the decade. “But… how did this occur?”

“Ah, it is a long story.” A pause. “Actually, not all that long. It happened fairly quickly, but there is some background you... rather need to hear.”

“Of course. There have been developments in Hell, too - it seems they may be harboring thoughts of--”

“I know. Beelzebub told me.”

Michael blinked. “Beelzebub… told you?”

“Yes. They brought it up during the train ride to London.”

“A train ride to London,” Michael repeated, faintly wondering if Gabriel was feeling well. Angels did not get fever and much less have fever dreams, but mortals did - a detail Michael had learned after the eleventh time her appearance had been mistaken for a such episode - and perhaps Gabriel was suffering from some… drawbacks, after almost a year spent as a mortal.

But then again, back when he had still been scared of them, the scars on his back still fresh, he did hide from Sandalphon… and behind the Lord of the Flies of all beings. 

But he’s here. God willed him back. Surely he did not fraternize… did he?

Michael opened her mouth to ask, but Gabriel lifted a hand with a sigh. “I know, I know. There is… quite a lot I have not told you about. I’ll explain everything, I promise - at least the parts of everything I understand myself. But first, I would like to visit--”

“Michael, I think I found the password!” Sandalphon’s voice rang out, causing Gabriel to trail off and turn back towards the door. Sandalphon was walking in with some papers under his arm. “You had misplaced--” he began, looking up, and trailed off. 

Gabriel grinned. “Hey,” he said, and all the papers Sandalphon had been carrying fluttered to the floor. If Michael had gone for an embrace, Sandalphon - ever devoid of sense of measures - went for a full-on tackle. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind, though, and Michael opted to push aside all worries and questions for a few minutes, especially as Uriel came to see what the mess was all about. It was rare to see her smile so openly, and Michael decided to leave it at that. After all, they just got Gabriel back. 

Everything else could be sorted out later.

***

“You son of a bitch!”

“You know, given the circumstances of who is personally and directly responsible for my existence, what you just said is about a dozen different kinds of blasph-- oof!”

Of course Gabriel couldn’t really be out of breath anymore, but if he could, Daniel’s bear hug would have knocked all air out of his lungs. He laughed, patting his back. “Nice to see you too.”

“Archangel Gabriel-- look at you, I can’t believe it,” he barked out a laugh and dropped Gabriel back on the floor. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were drunk!”

“Well, I was. Too drunk to know better than telling the truth. I’d never had alcohol before, let alone in a mortal vessel.”

“Hah! I did wonder how come a can of beer got you rambling like that. So what, I passed some sort of divine test?”

“It was no test, but if it were you’d have passed it with flying colors.” Gabriel smiled, and nodded politely towards the woman in the room with Daniel. “Liv, I presume?” he asked, but of course he already knew the answer. Daniel had a photo of his wife in his wallet, taken before the cancer diagnosis was ever uttered.

“It was probably already eating away at her, but you’d have never known looking at her,” Daniel had once said in a rare moment of talkativeness about the subject. Gabriel had agreed that the woman in the photo did indeed look radiant, and that was precisely how she looked now. Of course, most souls that make it to Heaven do. 

“That would be me. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“What are you doing here?” Daniel was asking. “I mean, you were cast out - they decided to hire you again?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’ll have to hand in my notice back in Southampton, I am afraid, but I do plan to keep in touch with our colleagues. Hopefully they will all come here when their time is up. Although I must say, Łukasz is on thin ice if he keeps on putting cream in carbonara.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can put in a good word for him if needed, no?”

“Me? Ah, I don’t know. Maybe,” Gabriel replied, all fake innocence, and Daniel laughed.

“Never had a friend in a high place before. This is a nice change of pace,” he said, dropping a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder before his expression turned… a little more serious. “I’ve got to thank you for all your help. Finding my brother.”

Ah, that. “It is all right. I am only regretful he was not found on time for you to meet in person.”

A pained expression crossed Daniel’s features, there one moment and gone the next. “... Well, I do hope… he will come here? Eventually?”

“Oh, yes. He and his wife are well on track to gain access to Heaven.” Unlike your parents, Gabriel thought, but Daniel had not asked once about them and he chose not to bring them up. “Actually, they want me over for lunch next weekend. I figure I ought to go.”

“Ah, of course.” Daniel seemed to hesitate. “Tell him I said hi. I mean, I know you can’t say that, but if you could just-- try and-- let him know. You know what I mean?”

Yes, he did know. “Of course. And one day they will probably both want to smack me for not coming clean,” Gabriel said. “Ah, before I forget - would you like to have Lawrence’s old dog?”

Daniel blinked and looked over at Liv. She shrugged, at a loss. “Lawrence’s… what?”

“His old dog. It has passed away, and as all dogs find their way to Heaven, it is only a matter of finding out its name…”

***

“He’ll keep calling you Brother Francis for a while before he gets used to your name, isn’t he?”

“Most likely. I cannot  blame him, it was a lot to take in. I certainly do not mind, when it came to choosing a name I picked that of someone I do admire a great deal.”

“That weird hippy who talked to birds? Should have known when you kept welcoming pests into the garden.”

“Heh. Maybe you should have been the gardener after all, as long as you promised not to terrify the Dowlings’ poor plants too much.”

“And leave the role of nanny to you?”

“Well, why not?”

“You wouldn’t have looked half as good in that dress, angel.”

Leaning next to him on the huge bed in their cottage - Crowley had not expected Aziraphale to join him on it, truth be told, but he had no complaints; maybe the day had just been that draining - Aziraphale chuckled. “Well, I would say we did a decent job with the boy. He took it better than I expected he would, all things considered.”

“We did keep out some parts of the story.” Namely, the fact they had briefly talked about… getting rid of him, when they believed him to be the Antichrist. Not that either of them had followed through, or even wished to.

“True. But all things considered, he was more excited than anything else.”

“He’s still eleven, of course he was excited. He’ll be back with even more questions.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Maybe we could have him over here next time. At the cottage.”

“Can’t see why not.”

“... We could have wiped his memories off. Do you think he will really keep all this to himself?”

“He’ll be thrown in the madhouse if he tells, to use his own words. He’s a smart kid. Takes after me.” Crowley grinned. “He’ll keep it under wraps like Adam and his friends did. More smart kids. I wonder how they’re doing.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain we’ll find out in September. I would be very surprised if they didn’t receive a wedding invitation themselves.”

“Wedding invitation?”

“Ah, yes, it came in the mail. I forgot to bring it up - remember that dear Anathema and… Newton, I think the name is? They kindly invited us to their wedding.”

“Did they? How nice. I will need to find a good dress.”

“Don’t you upstage the bride now, you know it’s not nice.”

“I am not nice.” Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale just chuckled before he stretched. Crowley considered asking once again if he was sure Gabriel would indeed keep their secret, but decided not to. Aziraphale seemed certain, and he was… willing to trust his judgment, this time.

“Ah, perhaps this is a good occasion to find out if sleep is indeed all that you make it out to be,” Aziraphale was saying. “You’ll ensure I wake up in the morning, won’t you?”

Crowley blinked a moment, taken aback. Then Azirapahle raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by his sudden silence, and he cleared his throat with a quick nod. “Of course,” he said, having absolutely no intention to rouse Aziraphale any earlier than necessary. 

With complete control over his human form, Aziraphale was of course able to will himself to sleep within moments, his expression absolutely peaceful. Crowley could have done the same, but he… didn’t. Not yet.

A good night’s sleep was indeed all it was made out to be and then some more, but at the moment he didn’t mind staying awake just a little longer.

***

“So you were re-hired for your job? That sounds exciting. You must be happy to go back. Have more cake.”

“Ah, thank you. It did feel a lot like coming home, but it will be keeping dreadfully busy. I believe the entire business is long overdue for some rather radical changes.”

“Hmph. From what you have said before, it sounds as though you were fired without just cause.” Lawrence sipped some tea, leaning back against his seat. “I certainly hope they will not pull the same stunt again.”

“Ah, to be completely fair, there was due cause. I was simply in denial over it. Hardly anyone likes admitting to being wrong.” Gabriel took a spoonful of the block of carrot cake Berenice had just dropped on his plate, going his best to pretend he didn’t notice Doyle peering up at him from under the table, drooling copiously and trying with very little success to play the part of the starving stray. “And I have learned much in my time away. I believe management thinks that’s what makes me qualified for the work ahead.”

Lawrence shrugged. “Well then, if this is what you feel works best, I can only wish you the best of luck. Should you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know,” he added.

Gabriel smiled. “Thank you,” he said, glazing over to the framed photo of Lawrence and Berenice’s wedding day - namely Doyle’s predecessor, the huge Newfoundland who’d been their ringbearer on the day,. “... If I may ask, what was that dog’s name?”

Please don’t be Fido. I cannot bear thinking about how many dogs called Fido are in Heaven. 

“Huh?” Berenice followed his gaze to the photo. “Oh, that was Chewbarka. A very good boy. Slobbered an awful lot, but he was still the gentlest boy.”

Well, that was going to make the search easier. Gabriel promised himself he’d make sure Chewbarka was found and taken to Daniel as soon as he returned, ate more of the cake, made more small talk, and shook his head with a smile when Lawrence asked him if he’d like to stay for dinner. 

“No, thank you. I really do need to go back.”

A laugh. “Ah, of course. You’re a busy man now.”

Gabriel grinned back. “That too, but as of this evening, I just have a date.”

***

“You told the other archangels about me?”

“Yes. There was no reason to keep hiding--”

“How dare you!”

“They would have found out eventually--”

“You denied me the pleasure of seeing their faces as you told them,” Beelzebub muttered, causing Gabriel to trail off, stare a moment, and laugh. 

“Hah! My apologies. It did not occur to me you’d have appreciated being present.”

“Hmph. And how did they take it?”

“I think ‘shell-shock’ best describes their reaction, but they’ll get used to it. I think. I mean, I am not leaving them much of a choice.”

I won’t deny you, Gabriel had said, and kept his word. Beelzebub snorted, but did not protest when Gabriel’s arm rested across their shoulders. They glanced up at the setting sun instead.

“... Everything from here is uncharted territory,” they said. No plan, no guarantees, no nothing. 

“Yes.” Gabriel grinned. He was doing that an awful lot lately, with childish glee. It was annoying and it made him look stupid, but Beelzebub found they didn’t mind. “Isn’t it exciting?”

***

And the angel answered and said to him, “I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God, and was sent to speak to you and bring you these glad tidings." -- Luke 1:19

***

[Back]

[Next]

#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #aziraphale #crowley #winging it

[tinybibmpreg]

almost forgot to post the next prompt fill today lmao.. anyway fill 4/80, #61 - That is not a good hiding spot. ft my hero turned villain OC LeClerc Clifton (hero name Sharp Shot, villain name Dead Mark), and his hero friend from his former hero team, Sprint.

Bullseye: Bad Habits

“That is not a good hiding spot,” LeClerc’s former teammate told him, raising an eyebrow as they walked up to the motel he was currently staying at.

Sighing as he could feel a headache starting to build, LeClerc replied, “It’s not a hiding spot. It’s just where I’m staying.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. I told you, Sprint, I’m just living here temporarily until I can go home.”

Sprint gave him an incredulous look. LeClerc rolled his eyes and pulled his room key out of his pocket, unlocking his front door. As they walked in, Sprint insisted, “That makes it sound like a hiding spot!” Then, he asked, “Why can’t you go home? Is someone after you?”

“No one is after me, but it’s none of your business,” he snapped. His back twinged and he winced, putting a hand on the small of it. Not a great start to the evening, LeClerc thought. He’d been planning to just relax, have dinner, maybe take a warm bath for his back, and watch some television until he fell asleep. He certainly hadn’t planned on Sprint running into him at the convenience store and demanding that they catch up.

Sprint took his elbow, and LeClerc yanked away, hissing. “Oops, sorry,” Sprint apologized, “-forgot you hate being touched without warning.”

“I don’t like being touched at all.”

Ignoring that, Sprint’s expression grew serious. “If you need any help at all,” he offered, “-I can help you. Any of the team would drop what they’re doing if you’re in danger.”

“I can protect myself,” LeClerc shot back.

Still, he turned his head and flushed. It was sweet that Sprint and the others still cared about him enough to rush to his aid without any information even after he’d abandoned all of them. It made him feel a bit guilty.

But before he could think too much about the events that had led to him leaving his superhero team, Sprint grabbed his shoulders and went, “Sharp Shot, look at yourself! I know you probably could protect yourself, but you’re pregnant! You should have other people looking after your safety. It’s hard enough to protect yourself individually, but your baby too?”

“No touching,” LeClerc hissed before he could process what Sprint had said.

The hero stammered another apology, pulling his hands away as if scalded. He clapped them together to try to keep from being grabby again. LeClerc doubted he’d be able to manage it for very long- Sprint was high energy and high affection. He was always getting up in his friends’ space and touching them, even with reminders not to.

Back on the team, he had gotten used to it. Sprint had eventually learned that if he pulled away not to step with him, and it was easy enough to stand near someone else on the team who didn’t mind the touching.

But now they were alone in a small motel room, and it’d been years since he’d last had to cope with Sprint’s affectionate nature. Never mind that he wasn’t feeling well and was on edge from being pregnant.

Sprint was staring at him, a determined look on his face. But his mouth was twisted down into the slightest frown, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands separating and grabbing at bits of his clothes. He was worried.

LeClerc took a deep breath and reassured his former teammate, “Sprint, I’m fine and I’m safe, I promise. I didn’t want to tell you because I’m a very private person and it’s also kind of embarrassing, but-” His voice caught a bit, and suddenly he felt exhausted and overwhelmed. Sprint’s expression morphed into pure concern.

“Sharp?”

“My wife kicked me out of the house. We had a huge argument and she told me to fuck off for a while. I haven’t seen or heard from her or our daughter in weeks.”

“You have a daughter? Oh, man, I don’t what I’d do if I wasn’t allowed to see my boys.”

“You have kids?”

“Yeah, um, two years ago, I adopted- shit, Sharp, are you okay?”

“Damnit.” He wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He’d gotten through the past few months thinking that every week was going to bring a phone call where his wife would invite him back home and tell him she did in fact trust him around their daughter, that he was still the man she’d fallen in love with.

But it’d been over a month since she’d last left him a message updating him about their daughter and how she still wanted some space and time to think. He hadn’t gotten to talk to his daughter over the phone at all after a disastrous call two weeks after he’d left. Just the thought of it made him tear up just thinking about it now. He’d made a colossal mess of things with his family, and now he was all alone, five months pregnant and miserable, moving every so often from one cheap motel to another somewhere, wasting away.

“Oh man, you’re crying- shit, can I hug you? Maybe you’ll hate this but I’m going to hug you.” Sprint stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. “If I’m hurting you or you hate it just say so, okay?”

Just a minute ago he would have reeled back and snapped at Sprint, but now he buried his face against Sprint’s chest, trying not to sob.

Sprint rubbed his back, leaning forward so his chin was on top of LeClerc’s head. It actually felt quite nice.

Until Sprint, whose mouth moved as much as his hands, started talking. “Uh, I don't know the whole story or anything but your wife kicking you out while you're pregnant and not letting you hear from your daughter is a pretty awful move.”

LeClerc pulled away to look up at him. “What? No, no, that's not-” He wiped his eyes and took a shaky inhale. “I worded that badly. She didn't… kick me out. She just asked for some space. She offered to move back in with her mother, but I didn't want our daughter to have to move, so I left the house.”

“Still, you're pregnant.”

“I didn't know at the time until a couple weeks later… and I don't know if she knows… I've left her voicemails about the baby since we always start arguing when she calls, but she might not have listened to them if she was upset.” He put a hand on his belly, feeling the baby shifting underneath it.

Sprint crossed his arms and tapped his foot, thinking. Then he snapped his fingers and said, “Wait, you’re totally emotionally weird.”

“You’re so comforting,” LeClerc growled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Have you tried calling her? I remember when you got into that big row with Reg it didn’t even occur to you that you could be the first one to try to make peace.”

“I… I don’t think my wife would like that.”

“You need to, I think. Come on, Sharp,” Sprint coaxed him. “You’re five months pregnant and don’t look so good. You need to go home and work things out with your wife. If she’s nice like you said, then I’m sure whatever happened will blow over once she knows you’ve got another little one on the way.”

Cordelia would push aside their argument and welcome him back home as soon as she knew he was pregnant. She cared about and loved their daughter fiercely. So much that she’d asked him to leave to protect her. She’d surely feel just as strongly about their new child. Their argument would be put on hold for quite a while now that he was pregnant.

But still, the question he’d been steadfastly avoiding came to the forefront of his mind, making him feel sick. What if Cordelia did know he was pregnant and hadn’t asked him to come home, didn’t want him to come home? It seemed impossible, but what if she was that upset with him, that afraid for their daughter’s safety that she was willing to leave him waiting forever? Maybe she was frightened that the baby would be like him, dangerous. Or maybe she was just waiting for the baby to be born, so she could take it away from him.

Maybe he was too dangerous to be trusted around his own children.

He grit his teeth. LeClerc hadn’t dared to let himself think that, that his wife was right in her belief that he couldn’t be trusted to keep their young daughter safe, that he willingly put her in harm’s way. The past few months he’d firmly believed that Cordelia just didn’t understand. But maybe she was right, that he was the one who didn’t understand. He just wanted to make sure his daughter could protect herself, just as he’d been able to protect himself at her age. But she got hurt more often than not when he took her out and tried to teach her, scared her with warnings and stories from his past.

I should probably tell her, LeClerc thought, stomach lurching. I should tell Cory she was right, I’m dangerous, and she should take the kids and forget about me. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to see his daughter again, wanted to go home and be with his family.

“You’re doing that thing you did,” Sprint said quietly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What thing?”

“When you quit the team and vanished, you were always thinking a lot. You’re doing it right now. Don’t do something crazy, please. Think about your family.”

LeClerc didn’t want to think about any of this anymore. He tried to calm himself down by reasoning that he always thought the worst and was too negative. Cordelia was probably just busy or upset with him or kept forgetting to call him. If he just stayed in his motel room and made sure his phone was on and charged, then eventually she would call and he wouldn’t have to feel so horrible. Everything would work out. It had to.

His hands shaking, he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. As he fished out what he was looking for, he announced to Sprint, “I need a smoke.”

“What?”

He opened his pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, then pulled out his lighter. He headed for the door, recalling that the motel had a ‘no smoking in the rooms’ rule. When Sprint didn’t follow him, he turned back and asked, “You coming?”

“You smoke?”

“I’ve always smoked.” LeClerc raised an eyebrow. Surely Sprint hadn’t forgotten that he smoked. He’d asked him to use his superspeed to run to a gas station and get him a new packet a few times on missions.

Sprint gave him an odd look and glanced down at his belly. LeClerc frowned, his face hot as he realized why Sprint had sounded so surprised.

“It’s… it’s fine, Sprint. It’s just one. I probably won’t even finish it.”

“Sharp, that stuff’s really bad for you, especially with your baby.”

“The baby will be fine. I hardly smoke at all compared to how I used to back in the day.”

“You shouldn’t be smoking at all! God, do you still drink?”

He felt ashamed, but tried to reason, “It’s just to help me relax. I had a few cigs and drinks here and there when I was expecting my daughter, and nothing happened.”

Sprint looked torn. “It’s still not good for you.”

“I hardly do it. I’m stressed out, that’s all,” LeClerc promised him. He didn’t dare mention that he’d been very stressed the past few months, especially so during the past few weeks. He stepped outside and brought the cigarette to his lips. It took him a few tries to light it, his hand shaking around his lighter, and then he took a long drag and sighed, leaning against the wall of the motel. Sprint came out and closed the door behind him.

His expression was disapproving and a little bit sad, so LeClerc stared across the parking lot instead. As he smoked, Sprint was uncharacteristically quiet.

Midway through the cigarette, LeClerc’s former teammate found his voice again. “That’s a nasty habit.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Make sure you call your wife, yeah? I should head out. Gotta pick up my kids.” Sprint took a step forward, getting ready to run. He blurred and just like that, he was gone.

LeClerc sighed and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.

#mpreg #male pregnancy #warning for leclerc smoking/drinking during pregnancy i guess #oblio's fics #original story #LeClerc Clifton (Bullseye) #Bullseye - story tag

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.6

Holy Wrath

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)       x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2380

Summary: Things get messier. ‘Natasha Rogers’ is not the only lost soul... and God always works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?

Warnings: mentions of violent deaths and torture, amnesia, swearing, supernatural stuff... and angst with some hope in it ;)

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Two businessmen faced each other in a shadowy room with unpleasantly sterile lights; an attentive eye would recognize they found themselves in a vault due to the heavy door with a golden wheel opening and the drawers lining the walls. A small army of heavily armed men along said cases created an air of being secure as much as in danger.

Just standing in such room put a weight on one’s chest – especially with the terrifying chair with straps and heavy panels ready to ruin human mind, a tranquilized man trapped in it.

Of course, one of the men facing each other, the older looking one, had no reason to feel threatened. He was simply doing business here and the army was at his side. His wrinkled face was scrunched in a grimace though, deeply discontent as he stared at the other man in no less expensive suit, but with an almost friendly glint in his eyes, a bit goofy face with a beard, framed by curly dark hair.

One would feel pressured in such space to begin with, but now, the two ‘businessmen’ built up an atmosphere nearly suffocating, a tension cuttable with a knife. The suspicious calmness of the goofy man was extremely irritating to the other.

Because clearly, they had made a mistake. A really fucking big one. The blond old man clenched his fists as he continued the rather loud conversation with the man who had showed up out of nowhere, claiming to share his interests and offering a lot of money.

Dammit, he should have known better than take an advice from him!

The mess they were in now!

“You said that killing her will bring a stop to the Avengers, because he was sickeningly in love with her,” the blond strained through his teeth, tone dangerous to cover up his growing fear for their mission. “That he will be grieving so much that he won’t be able to fight! He’s fighting like a madman!”

The dark-haired man only smiled, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Perhaps he reacted differently than we expected him to.”

“PERHAPS!!” echoed in the vault madly, making several people flinch. Not the one who was being parroted mockingly and with rage though. “He’s taking down our facilities. One. By. One!”

“Seems like fate wanted it that way. Or, you know, God’s will-“

“I don’t give a damn about God’s will!” the blond sputtered back.

His business partner made a face, his grimace as if saying ‘ouch’. His tone when he spoke up told the same tale. “Well, I…. I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

“Why? Because the holy wrath will be set upon me? Please. There’s no God. And if there was, he sure would like me doing what-”

The blond’s bright blue eyes seemed to bulge sickeningly as his fingers reached for his throat, struggling to take a breath all of sudden, unable to finish his sentence. He stumbled back with an accusing and yet bewildered gaze, causing all of the men draw their weapons and aim them at the supposed enemy.

An enemy who only tilted his head, otherwise not doing a thing. Was he even the cause of the older man choking? He couldn’t, right?  How would he?

“Wh-ah-I..?”

With a flick of a hand, all of the soldiers fell to the ground, unconscious.

The men who were sitting at the monitoring would have seen that it happened all over the facility, hidden in one of the biggest bank in Washington, but they didn’t – they lost consciousness as well.

The goofy man gave his partner a tight-lipped smile, almost patronizing.

“Ah. I don’t know. ‘He who lies in His name shall choke on his own false tongue’ feels pretty real now, doesn’t it?” he exclaimed and repeated the motion that had sent all of the armed men to the floor. He pointed at his hand then, grinning like a kid, genuinely excited. “I love to do that for effect. I don’t have to, a thought would be enough, but the dramatics is exceptional.”

He snapped his fingers then, suddenly standing in front the choking man in more comfortable clothes of jeans and lose plaid shirt. He allowed the other man to breathe in so he wouldn’t pass out; yet, he wouldn’t be able to speak just yet.

“If I had let you continue your… master plan without my good advice, you just might have succeeded,” he hummed, strolling through the sea of sleeping men, careful not to step on any. He shook his head, a parent’s disproval, a disappointed Father regretting not raising his sons better. “But humans, like every other creations, no matter how beautiful, are flawed. Money, oh money… why are you, my children so greedy, so trustful to anyone who offers you a coin….”

“Grzhmchr-“ was the only sound leaving the other man’s throat as he fell to his knees, fear flashing in his eyes along with more and more confusion.

“What can I say. Nobody’s perfect. And strings of fate are funny things when played right… they can orchestrate a lovely sound,” the dark-haired man mused, turning to face his former partner fully. “Have a good day, Director Pierce. The Avengers should find you here at their next mission.”

With the last words spoken, Director Pierce’s grip on his own throat eased and his body fell limp to the ground. The other man smiled when he saw his chest rise and fall periodically, assured none of these men were actually dead. That wasn’t the plan, after all. They needed to face a different kind of justice.

He glanced at the electric chair then and the man lying there, breathing shallow, heart-rate alarmingly low for anyone but him and one more person whose cells had been modified to endure almost anything… even an explosion despite running straight into it.

“Ah, such troubled soul…” the powerful man sighed longingly, his face twisting with sympathy no one had provided to the prisoner not only of war, but also his own body. He walked to him slowly, a healing hand hovering over the man’s forehead. “You lived through more than you should have, my friend. You shall start your healing.”

The soft light shone above the pale skin, gently sweeping in, illuminating the veins running over the surface, disappearing in the messy hairline. The lying man blinked his eyes open and quickly backed into the backrest before his training kicked in.

It was just such a confusing wake-up. He felt too lightheaded, his chest less constricted than usual, missing a crushing weight. His thoughts… flowed in an unfamiliar way – a way he forgot that existed. His instincts screamed to reach for the other man’s throat to grab him and interrogate him, because he wasn’t his master, but… at the same time, he didn’t quite want to do that. No one told him to do so. He felt uneasy and bewildered, yes, but not in danger.

Still, he listened to his training and his hand shot up, only to grasp thin air. The man had already moved away, causing the freshly woken up man blink in surprise and break his bonds instinctively to follow.

But the man, who had forced him to wake up after they had sedated him, smiled at him kindly. It scared the shit out of him, not that he would admit it. Kindness scared him – he wasn’t used to it, not really, not anymore. Whenever someone showed some, it came with a price of a human life. Now, his mind flooded with images of empty eyes, accusing him of doing the wrong thing instead of a right one as he had been promised.

And this man was to blame for these overwhelming sensations, perhaps was responsible of the men on the floor too.

Were those… masters of his… unconscious? Dead? No, no dead, their chest was rising and falling. Only not conscious then. Who the hell was this man?

“Who-what-?” he choked out, glaring at the stranger. Why hadn’t he attacked him yet? Didn’t give him an order, said the words that… would they still do that to him? That… that thing when his body wasn’t quite his? Flip the switch?

The switch… it seemed to be missing now. Where the hell had it gone?

“Sergeant Barnes, welcome back.”

“How- what did you-- who are you?” Barnes finally sat up straight, his head swimming unpleasantly. He overcame it and forced himself to stand.

Holy shit, the world was spinning. Also, it wasn’t any making sense, sending one confusing signal after another. Barnes’ mind was a mess. He remembered this was his name, even though lately he had been called that name rather mockingly, more used to being a soldat.

The only other conscious man held out his hand as if in a comforting gesture.

“Easy. I’m not here to hurt you. But unless you want to be found by the Avengers, by heroes who include your best friend, you better go find your peace and meet them when you’re ready.”

Forget about the world not making sense. Now it went entirely crazy.

Best friend. Steve. Could this man talk about Steve? Avengers? Who the hell were the Avengers? So many images flickered through his head, but it didn’t include any… Avengers. Images of the past, tens of years ago, clear and sharp as they shouldn’t be, an angry tiny blond swaying his fists and wishing to take on the world and then suddenly growing several inches, and all of that mingled with fragments of memories not quite his and yet his only. What year was it anyway?

He grasped on the only thing that seemed to comfort him, ground him, the only thing he was sure of.

“My best friend? It’s… is Steve still alive? It’s been about seventy years-“ Right? “-on and off— how do I know that? Shit, what did I do?”

The empty eyes staring at him. Oh god, the empty eyes... life vanishing under his hands – a flesh one and a metal one – hands crimson with blood…

His breathing picked up, his head pounding with an ache unknown and the other man grimaced again at the agony he saw. He didn’t think he should interfere more though – Barnes needed to deal with this on his own terms.

“Calm down, James. None of that was your fault and until you accept that, you’d better off without them. The Avengers,” he explained, but the soldier would have none of it, the horrifying images, feeling so disgustingly wrong as his little soul had been locked in a mind of a dull servant, crying when taking a life.

“I… the things I did, oh my god-”

“You are not to blame for what they forced you to do. I could make you forget, but that would only complicate things,” the bearded man thought out loud, only brining more chaos with his words. He tried his best to sound soothing. “Try to forgive yourself and when the time is right… you’ll see your friend again.”

“He might be dead by then!” Barnes blurted out, suddenly overtaken by panic. Steve was alive. If this man was right and Steve was alive – how did he know that, who was he, how- Steve. That little punk letting the army experiment on him only to- where was he, how was he, what- “He’s like… what year it is exactly?”

“2013,” came the resigned reply.

“He’s ninety-five. Ninety-five! If he’s still l alive, I have to see him!”

The calmer man held out his hand again when the soldier unmistakably headed to the exit. “He’s been met with nearly same fate, James. Do not worry about his vessel. He is well. I mean… kinda. He’s been on edge, lately.”

Barnes wavered. This man had been gentle with him, as if he wanted to help. He knew way too many things, probably not lying so far. It was all kinds of fishy.

“Alright, I’m gonna ask again. Who are you?” the soldier demanded, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t feel the need to actually attack the man and he didn’t know why and he was afraid and confused and everything hurt, his arm felt heavy despite the muscles adapting ages ago and he had to see Steve if he was still freaking alive and- but after everything he had done--

“You’re not asking the right questions. Go, James. Find your place in the world again and learn about what happened to your friend,” the man advised again patiently. He beckoned to the men on the floor; instinctively, Bucky knew they were bad. Rotten even, and not just because he could suddenly see through all their lies. How, by the way? “Leave these men for the Avengers to find. They are not your problem, I’ll take care of them. You’re free now.”

Bucky Barnes looked around, not assured. His heart was racing, almost as fast as his mind. He had messed up the world, hadn’t he? The least he could so was to deliver these men to… what, police? Justice?

“But-“ he started up defensively, but out of blue, he found himself in a dark alley – and the man was still facing him.

What the fuck got him here and was this man some sort of a… was magic a thing? This couldn’t be result of some serum, right?

“You-“

“Go,” the man asked of him kindly, adding a smile that looked even goofy, in a stark contrast to his serious eyes. “What you saw, that’s how the justice will find them.”

Was this guy a friggin’ mind-reader too?!

“What the hell?!” Bucky just choked out, frantically scanning his surroundings.

Where was he anyway? The noise of today’s world was hurting his ears. What was he supposed to do? He only knew mission for the past decades, his will not even his own, how was he supposed to proceed?

Finding peace as the man had told him wasn’t exactly a precise order – and yet it was, the most difficult order he could remember receiving.

“Goodbye,” said the man for a good measure, walking away and leaving the poor soldier dumbstruck in a foreign city, in a foreign life.

Barnes stared after him, unable to say a word, unable to move a single muscle. Then, before disappearing among the people roaming the streets in what could be a very late hour, the mysterious powerful man glanced over his shoulder with a last smile and whispered barely audible – not for supersoldier’s ears though.

“Oh, and Bucky? Name’s Chuck.”

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Part 7

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Alternative chapter title – Let’s Make Things a Bit Messier ;) If you didn’t watch Supernatural, Chuck is… Chuck is a powerful being and you might have figured out who exactly… yes, SPN went there.

One more surprise appearance in the next chapter ;)

Thank you for reading! 

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