#the fics themes can be said to mirror real life

[sugawarassoulmate]

and i can be needy, way too damn needy

“oh, didn’t like what i had to say?” she must have noticed your reaction, feeding off your palpable anxiety. “both of them feel that way, you know. they only really hang out with you because your mothers are good friends. you think they would give you the time of day if they had a choice?”

atsumu too? no, that couldn’t be true. he’s always been your best friend. yeah, your moms were close and it was easy to go to their house after school while your parents were working, but atsumu’s smile always grew wide whenever you walked through the door. surely all of that had been genuine?

“that’s a lie…” you mumble, wishing for once you could find the strength to stick up for yourself. this doesn’t feel the same as when osamu teases you, that’s something you can navigate. this is uncharted territory. never has anyone else been so callous towards you. usually because one of the boys was there to step in—atsumu to offer a kind word and osamu to throw a punch or two.

but maybe that was the problem. maybe they didn’t want to waste their time saving you anymore.

this really wasn't meant to turn into anything! i've had this doc sitting on my computer for months thinking nothing was gonna come from it, but you guys really liked the snippet i shared so here it is.

if you were expecting a big confrontation between osamu's girlfriend and reader, sorry! my crybaby doesn't play that way but she does get her comeuppance 👀

also there wasn't going to be any smut in this fic but.......osamu's hot LOL

words: 3.8k

cw: fem!reader, insecurity, name-calling, fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, infidelity mention, minors dni

disclaimer: on this blog, we discuss and explore toxic relationships/situations/ just because i write about these themes does not mean i condone/support these types of relationships nor do i do them in my own personal life.

these are fictional characters in fictional scenarios and nobody should be taking real-life advice or mirror the actions of the characters in these stories!

You walked into the kitchen expecting to see Osamu with his head in the fridge as usual. Instead, you found something worse, his girlfriend leaning on the counter. A scowl on her face as soon as she locks eyes with you. It’s the first time you’ve ever been alone with her, without Osamu there to make a mean comment at your expense that makes her laugh sweetly, “Baby, you’re being so rude!” she’d say in her shrill voice.

But there’s none of that in her face at the moment. She crosses her arms, eyebrows furrowed as she gets a good look at you. “Of course, you’re here too,” she says, attempting to grumble under her breath but it’s definitely loud enough for you to hear.

You don’t really want to know what she meant, mumbling an apology in her direction before trying to shuffle past her to the stairs. She’s quicker than you, though, blocking your path and almost tripping you in the process. “What the hell are you doing here?” She gets in your face, demanding an answer. It’s only when she’s so close that you take in how pretty she actually is: full, pouty lips, a high arch in her eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, a straight nose.

She didn’t look like the kind of girl Osamu dated, but you figured that wasn’t a fair assumption for you to make. You didn’t really know what kind of girls Osamu liked. Whenever his brother brought the topic up, it usually ended with a punch to the gut.

“Atsumu and I have plans,” you said, hoping she’d leave you alone. She purses her lips, seemingly not satisfied with your response. “Could you—”

“Do you not have friends of your own? You’re always tagging along with the twins, aren’t you embarrassed?” her features twist into a smile, one of ridicule. You’re not sure how to respond, mouth clamping up as you hope for someone to come downstairs and save you. But you’re not that lucky and your silence only pisses her off even more. “Not even going to defend yourself? Samu’s right, you’re hopeless!”

Hopeless? Had Osamu said that about you? He’s said worse things to your face, sure, but never once did you think he spoke about you behind your back. Did he talk about you to her? Complain about you? Of course, you weren’t his favorite person in the world but did he actually feel that way?

You could feel your stomach churning, a bitter taste bubbling in the back of your throat. You had to get out of there, but your legs wouldn’t move. “Oh, didn’t like what I had to say?” she must have noticed your reaction, feeding off your palpable anxiety. “Both of them feel that way, you know. They only really hang out with you because your mothers are good friends. You think they would give you the time of day if they had a choice?”

Atsumu too? No, that couldn’t be true. He’s always been your best friend. Yeah, your moms were close and it was easy to go to their house after school while your parents were working, but Atsumu’s smile always grew wide whenever you walked through the door. Surely all of that had been genuine?

“That’s a lie…” you mumble, wishing for once you could find the strength to stick up for yourself. This doesn’t feel the same as when Osamu teases you, that’s something you can navigate. This is uncharted territory. Never has anyone else been so callous towards you. Usually because one of the boys was there to step in—Atsumu to offer a kind word and Osamu to throw a punch or two.

But maybe that was the problem. Maybe they didn’t want to waste their time saving you anymore.

“Please, do you think they’d say it to your face? To the crybaby that lives next door? They don’t want to hurt your feelings but someone needs to give you a reality check.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap back, feeling the tightness in your chest. Even when Osamu was giving you his worst, he never made you feel so small.

She laughs humorlessly, taking a step forward into your personal space and leaning down. It feels so humiliating. “I know enough,” she claims. “Every time I’m with my boyfriend, he never shuts up about you. What makes you so damn special? Maybe he wouldn’t bitch about you so much if you just fucked off and found friends of your own.”

You wanted to tell her it wasn’t true. That you knew more about the twins than she did, but all the energy you had left disappeared. And, in turn, her words started playing in your head over and over. Maybe it was true. Maybe your friendship with the twins had run its course—or rather your friendship with one of them did. Osamu had never been your friend before, had he?

Right on cue, the tears started running down your face. You could imagine how red and distorted your face had become, your nose becoming runny and mouth growing dry. You’re rushing out of the room before she could say anything else, running towards your house and slamming the door behind you. 

It’s only when you’re finally alone that you allow your sobs to get loud, to feel all your insecurities pouring out into the open. And it’s just so pitiful that your first reaction is to run to Atsumu and point out the person who made you feel this way. What’s most surprising is that, for once, it wasn’t his brother who was at fault. Not even Osamu could make you cry this much.

Your phone starts buzzing every few seconds and through tears, you read out the notifications on the screen.

From: ☀️tsumu☀️: did ya get here yet?

From: ☀️tsumu☀️: thought i heard the front door..

You want to reach out to him, to both of them. But you can’t even bother with a reply. Instead, you turn your phone off, and let your tears flow some more.

You’ve never avoided both of the twins before, but you couldn’t face them after that conversation. It was hard at first, having both of the boys blow up your phone for most of the day was pretty normal. The three of you were always together, whether at each other’s houses, going out, or running errands together. If that wasn’t the case, you’d be on the phone with one of them, usually Atsumu, for hours.

But for the first time, you haven’t been giving either of them your attention—you turned off notifications on your phone, started waking up an hour earlier so you wouldn’t have to walk with them, and you told your parents not to answer their calls.

“Did you get into a fight?” your mother had said. “What did Osamu do this time?” But you didn’t really have an explanation, the real story being far more embarrassing than anything else. 

At school, it was harder to steer clear of them. You didn’t share many classes but you ended up moving your seat in the few you did, ducking out of the room as soon as the bell rang to avoid having to talk to them. Thankfully, volleyball kept them busy and limited your interactions.

There was one incident in the cafeteria where you nearly broke your-self isolation.

It was easy for Atsumu to find you in a crowded room, locking eyes with you across the cafeteria. The boys were there with Suna and Ginjima talking amongst themselves and being rowdy as usual. Atsumu waved in your direction, beckoning for you to sit with them and you nearly did. Until you saw her cuddled up to Osamu’s side, a disapproving look on her face.

Osamu’s face didn’t look that pleasant either. “Maybe he wouldn’t bitch about you so much if you just fucked off and found friends of your own…”

Suddenly feeling nauseous, you turned your back on the table. Grabbing your food, you make your way towards the roof and eat there. You could usually be alone up there, without being a bother to anyone else.

“Did Osamu do something to you?” Suna asked one day when you were in the library. It was safe to study there—the boys had been banned in their first year after one too many fights. Suna sat across from you, an unreadable look on his face as he watched you take notes. “You haven’t come to practice in a week.”

You figured there was no use in avoiding him and continued to keep doing work. “Why does everyone think he did something?”

“Something had to have happened. Tweedledee and Tweedledum said you haven’t spoken to them in a while,” he leans back in his chair with his feet up on the table. Even during the worst moments with Osamu, you’d still end up getting dragged to practice somehow. “They’ve been fighting a lot more than usual. Kinda annoying, honestly…”

That didn’t do much to quell your anxiety. It was always nasty when the boys fought but the idea of sitting in the bleachers with her after what she said made you queasy. Maybe it had nothing to do with you. The twins fighting wasn’t out of the ordinary, what made you so special?

“I’m really busy with school, okay?” you motion towards the mess of papers on the table you’re working at. But Suna looks unconvinced, probably thinking back to all the times you’ve either done homework or studied while watching the team practice. “Just don’t tell them that you spoke to me, please?” 

One thing you love about Suna is that he doesn’t pry. If you’re not ready to talk about something, he’ll hold off on asking questions. “Fine,” he sighs, getting up. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ve got it figured out. But do something quick, ‘cause I don’t know how much patience Kita has left.”

You can’t explain the uneasiness in your gut while watching Suna leave the room. He was wrong, you didn’t have it figured out. There wasn’t a plan or an end goal in mind. But you couldn’t face the boys just yet. And, honestly, whatever was going on would figure itself out with or without you.

“No, no, no, no…” you groan to yourself fishing through your backpack for the tenth time, hoping your keys would somehow magically appear. There was a torrential downpour outside and your parents weren’t home or answering their phones. Like an idiot, you forgot your keys and certainly didn’t have an umbrella, your soaked uniform sticking to you, your body freezing and shivering.

The only people who had spare keys were the twins and their mother. “For emergencies,” said your own mother so long ago but they were never actually used for emergencies. All too often, the boys would barge into your home for snacks or drinks, but mostly for you. They’d pluck you from your bedroom—it didn’t matter if you were studying or sleeping, really—and drag you back to their house to watch a movie or settle an argument.

You asked your mother to tell them you weren't home or hid out in the library until it was too late for them to show up at your front door. But now, you were royally fucked and were running out of options. “Please be here…” you cried, wishing for your keys to end up in your hand.

“Are ya stupid? Yer gonna catch yer fuckin’ death out here!” It wasn’t hard to figure out who the voice belonged to. Osamu stormed to the front of your house, pissed off as he shoved you under his umbrella. “The fuck ya standin’ here for? Yer practically blue!”

You didn’t have the energy to argue or come up with some excuse to distance yourself from him. Not when your crybaby tears were threatening to come back again. “I don’t have my keys,” you sobbed, feeling cold and pathetic.

Osamu grabs you by the sleeve and hauled you next door to his house, cursing with every wet stomp of his feet. You’re pushed through the front entrance, already forming a puddle on the floor. The shoes by the door let you know their mother isn’t home either.

“Dude! Ya were right behind me, what took ya so long—” Atsumu stops dead in his tracks when he spots you, an unreadable emotion on his face but he’s quick to go into protective mode, running towards you and his brother. “What—”

“She forgot her fuckin’ keys,” Osamu grouches, sticking the umbrella in a stand near the door. He turns to you, looking as if he wants to bite your head off. “Go upstairs and take a hot shower. We’ll get ya clean clothes.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” her words are in your head again. The twins need to take care of you yet again because you’re too stupid to remember to carry a fucking key. “I just need my—”

“I don’t remember askin’ ya,” Osamu says, pushing you in the direction of their bathroom. “Go.” Your eyes flick to Atsumu but he’s in agreement with his twin. Embarrassed, you start heading upstairs, wishing for all of this to be over.

The boys left clean clothes for you outside the bathroom door after your shower. As expected, the shirt and pajama bottoms were much bigger, completely drowning you. Your wet clothes were thrown in the laundry room to be washed and dried. You’re too nervous to go into the living room and face them, but hiding upstairs would only make the situation worse.

You decide to just rip the band-aid. 

Wringing the rest of the water with your towel, you walk in to see the boys talking amongst themselves. They stop when you enter the room, Atsumu looking apologetic as he leaves room on the couch for you to sit. A cup of tea sits on the coffee table, likely made by Osamu and you’re certain his anger would only get worse if you refuse.

It doesn’t take very long for Osamu to start interrogating you as soon as you sit down. “Why the fuck didn’t ya come here sooner?” he stands in front of you and his brother, grey eyes shooting daggers at yours. 

“I thought I had them,” you lied, letting the cup warm your still cold hands. “I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“But why would ya think yer a bother?” This time Atsumu spoke, his hand reaching out to rub your shoulder. You appreciated the extra warmth. “Better yet, where have ya been lately? Ya stopped talkin’ to us out of nowhere.” You don’t miss the way his eyes glance over at Osamu. He probably thinks it’s his fault too.

“You think they would give you the time of day if they had a choice?” You’re so fed up at this point that her name falls from your mouth before you could stop yourself. Osamu quirks his brow, probably wondering what she has to do with any of this.

So you tell them—You mention all the nasty things she said to you, the cruel looks she’d shoot your way at school, and how you felt too stupid to tell them because a part of you really wondered if it was true. By the time you’re done, there are a few stray tears running down your face that you didn’t notice at first. A frustrated crybaby to the very end, you’re nothing if not consistent.

They’re both angry now, eyes locked with one another. “Did ya know about this?” Atsumu’s tone was accusatory.

“Of course I fuckin’ didn’t, why didn’t ya tell me?” Osamu asked, looking at you, but his brother is quick to come to your defense.

“It doesn’t matter when she told us, what matters is that it was yer girlfriend that said that shit to her.” He snaps, pulling you closer to his frame to soothe you. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu, tongue poking his cheek. “What’re ya gonna do about it, Samu?”

The younger twin rolls his eyes takes a deep breath and walks out the room, choosing not to start a yelling match for once. Once you are alone, Atsumu wraps you in his arms for a hug.  “Please don’t disappear like that on us again,” he says, refusing to let go. “I won’t be so nice next time.” You can hear the dumb grin on his face. You’ve missed him, both of them. Atsumu makes sure you finish the rest of your tea before walking off to set up the futon for you—he suggested you spend the night and didn’t take no for an answer. 

You’re folding your uniform a few hours later after taking it out of the dryer. It should probably be ironed before you could wear it again but, thankfully, there’s no school tomorrow. While you’re there, you decide to fold the rest of the clean clothes there as well, knowing the boys’ mother would appreciate it.

 The sweet silence was broken with Osamu’s heavy steps coming downstairs, screaming into his phone, unaware that you’re also in the room. “I don’t wanna hear it and don’t even think about comin’ here and gettin’ yer shit,” From all the years of knowing him, you’ve never heard his voice get like that. Even when he and Atsumu were fighting and he’s certainly never yelled at you like that.

“Get one of yer stupid friends to pick it up from Atsumu or Suna or I’m throwin’ it the fuck out. I’m blockin’ yer ass after that. Fuck off.” He hangs up without another word and that’s when he catches you kneeling in front of the dryer with piles of folded clothes. His face doesn’t soften as he gets down on your level, eyes scanning your form. “That’s Tsumu’s shirt…”

Staring down at the much too big shirt, you now realize that he’s right. You hadn’t really considered which of their shirts the boys gave since you were more concerned with having warm clothes than anything else. “I just grabbed whatever was there—” Osamu’s quick movements take you by surprise. Next thing you know, he has you pinned to the floor, hovering over you. It rattles you at first, but Osamu’s always been known to push you around whenever he felt like it. “Samu—”

��Don’t keep secrets from me. Ya should’ve told me as soon as she said that shit.” His knee is between your legs and you wonder if his intentions are pure. All of your clothes were soaked from the storm and all Osamu had to do to get to your more intimate parts was wander his hands just slightly underneath your shirt. It had been a while since he did anything like that. Osamu was loyal to the girls he dated. At least you think. So many times he’s trapped you for a quick kiss when nobody else was in the room, it’s possible that you had overlapped with his relationships a few times. 

Maybe that’s why she hated you so much.

“If any of that bullshit was true,” Osamu continues, noticing the apprehension on your face. “I wouldn’t put up with yer sensitive ass.” 

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled, fingers twisting between the fabric of your shirt. You felt stupid, letting your own insecurities and her words get to your head when you know none of them to be true. With all the years you’ve known them, you should have given the boys more credit. “I missed you.”

Finally, Osamu’s face relaxes. At this point, you wonder if he was actually upset with you this whole time, or with himself since it was his ex-girlfriend who had said caused all this. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s overwhelming, like all his kisses and it feels wrong to be so close just moments after he broke up with her, but it doesn’t stop you from deepening it.

“Such a pretty little crybaby, don’t know why I even bother with anyone else,” his voice is thick while his hands tug at your clothes. “Take this off. I’ll give ya my shirt in a bit, just lemme see ya.”

The sensation of your breasts being exposed to the cold laundry room to Osamu’s warm mouth wrapping itself around your nipple. A sharp whine leaves your lips but you stifle it, remembering that Atsumu is still upstairs. Osamu bites down on the sensitive bud, as one of his hands reaches past the sweats you had on, groaning when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear.

Two of Osamu’s fingers plunge into your cunt without warning. It gets harder and harder to muffle your noises, eyes welling up with tears. “Wanna hear yer pretty noises, dummy. Been hidin’ from me too fuckin’ long. I deserve ‘em,” he growls, biting down hard on your breast just to force a high-pitched cry from you.

You pray that Atsumu is in his room. The thought of anyone seeing you in such a compromising position—half-naked and humping against Osamu’s hand—would be so humiliating but it has you whining and moaning even more.

“Can feel yer pussy clenchin’ around my fingers. Gonna make ya cum on the fuckin’ floor like a slut,” You can hear how wet you are, juices flowing down Osamu’s hand and it’s becoming too much. His thumb circles your clit as his fingers speed up. You pull him in for a kiss, burying your cries into his mouth. “Cum fer me, stupid girl. Missed this pretty pussy, need ya to cum.”

By the time he adds a third finger, you’re already too far gone. With a final, exasperated sob, you cum around Osamu’s hand. He stares, mesmerized by how sensitive your cunt is when he pulls his fingers out, your essence catching the light. 

Your brain is too fuzzy to notice Osamu wiping his hand with Atsumu’s shirt, too busy trying to stop your legs from twitching. “Samu…”

“Don’t start yer whinin’, I’ll clean ya up,” he warns, grabbing a clean t-shirt to put on you. It’s one of his, of course. “Much better.”

“Don’t mind her, y/n,” Suna says after following your line of vision. The two of you were sitting at your regular lunch table a few days later when you felt someone staring daggers at you. Sure enough, there was Osamu’s ex looking back. Her usually pretty face now red and puffy. As horrible as she was, you still feel bad.

“Don’t mind who?” Atsumu asks as he and his brother join you after getting their food. Osamu feels your body tense up and is swift to see the reason why. Watching his eyes meet with hers brings back that unpleasant sinking feeling in your stomach for some reason.

But Osamu is quick to look away, an arm wrapping around his waist as he offers you some of his food. You sneak a brief glance back at her, just in time to see her storm out of the cafeteria.

It shouldn’t make you smile, but it does.

©sugawarassoulmate 2022 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #osamu smut #osamu #osamu x reader #osamu miya smut #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x reader #miya twins #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #✨ #✨osamu #bully!osamu

[queenshelby]

The Fourth Season (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap (20 Years), Smut, Religious Themes

Words: 5,466

Notes: In this Fic, Cillian is 40 and the Reader is 20. Cillian is divorced and the Reader is single. This is not based on Cillian’s real life.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

Day One

You slowly rolled over as the alarm from your phone started to increase in volume and then you groaned as you sat up, your hair especially wild this morning.

You sat there not exactly excited to be up at this hour, but then you knew that today was the day your life would change forever.

Reaching high above yourself, you stretched, feeling the pop and creak of your bones, which was something unusual for you and probably due to the fact that your new living arrangements were somewhat strange for you still. You didn’t sleep well whenever you were placed into unfamiliar surroundings and the last two nights were somewhat uneasy for you.

You were nervous, of course, and, just after you hopped out of bed, you started about your morning routine, bounding across the tiny apartment, putting together a bag that would be needed for the day.

‘Are you ready? And excited?’ your new roommate Natasha asked and, after taking one final step in front of your mirror, you nodded.

‘As ready as I can be’ you said before you took in a deep breath and, together with Natasha, you walked out the front door of your apartment which was conveniently located right next to the studio.

During your walk to the studio, Natasha tried to talk to you, but you were too nervous to respond. You struggled to focus and you could not fight the urge to start humming to yourself as you reflected on things.

***Flashback***

 Several months ago, when you were still in law school, completing your second ever semester, your boyfriend had dumped you for the chance to move to Los Angles. You participated in the same drama school in the evenings, simply for a hobby and, about four years ago, when you were in high school, you met through a locally run drama project.

You shared similar interests and making this move from the UK was going to be his big break, he thought.

 He told you that it was over. He did not want to work on this relationship on a long distance basis and this crushed you. He was your everything, a man who shared your love of all things like acting, theatre and music. But then, he was gone and left you behind all so  suddenly.

 Yet, the fact that he left you the way he did and without an explanation did not really surprise you. After all, you had been together since you were sixteen. You were too young to make decisions and, since you both came from strictly catholic families in Ireland, you were already out of your depth when, after four years of being in a relationship with each other, you still had not been engaged.

 Your parents were strict and so were his. You obeyed and so did he and, perhaps, this was half of the problem? He wanted to leash out and perhaps you needed to do the same?

 Thus, after many weeks of crying and a few more of cursing his name, destiny led you to a rebirth in your attitude. You forgot about him as much as you could and, after liaising with your best friend Emma, you made it your mission to finally achieve your life goal as well.

 If James could do it, so could you. He made it into a Hollywood movie for a total of ten minutes and whilst becoming famous wasn’t on your radar, you really wanted to make it into a play or get a role that was meaningful to you. If he could do it, then so could you and, much to your patents’ dismay, your dream came true about eight weeks ago when you were casted for a role in a major TV show.

 It was then that your hard work after hours had paid off and you accepted a drunken dare from Emma who had found out that the directors of Peaky Blinders were urgently re-casting the role for Jesse Eden after Charlie Murphy pulled out.

 Over three-hundreds auditions were submitted and, if it was not for Emma, you would never have thought about applying for this role. You only had some small-scale theatre experience and were rather young still. You believed that they would never cast you and, yet, you had something that no other applicant had, namely a great understanding of what the role would entail and an enormous amount of passion for the art of action.

 Your mother originated from Birmingham and you had seen the TV show and you most certainly were disciplined enough to learn your lines quickly.

 Thus, feeling confident due to the many tequila sunrises you had when Emma convinced you to audition, you signed up for the auditions in London and, after a gruelling week-long process came to an end, you were chosen for the role.

 The fact that you had landed this role was exciting but it also meant that you had to take a break from studying which was something your parents did not agree to. In the end though, you did not care. You were twenty years old and could make your own decisions now and, with that in mind, you travelled to the northern parts of the UK a few weeks later to commence filming.

 By this time, you had spent all your days learning and practicing your lines. You were sent your scripts and read them every day, over and over again, and soon began to realise that, what was expected of you, was much more than you had anticipated.

 Amongst the dialogue and acting out different kinds of emotions, there were three intimate scenes you had to participate in, in one of which you would be almost completely naked. All of the scenes were with Cillian Murphy who played Thomas Shelby and, unbeknownst to you, when you signed up, you did not realise that Jesse Eden, the famous communist, was also the main character’s love interest in this season.

 Given your lack of sexual experience, this was something which concerned you. Nonetheless, you tried to get into character for the role and considered your own sexuality and femininity some more. You wasted a good four years with James of being boring and unadventurous and, now, this had to change. You at least needed to learn how to flirt and be seductive and, sure enough, your best friend Emma gave you some good pointers.

The role required your to be stunning, to be open, and have the body language of a woman in control, even over someone like Thomas Shelby himself. Jesse Eden was determined and, at least in one of the three scenes, she was meant to take complete control over the Brummie gangster in the bedroom department.

 According to the script, you were the one who needed to lead one of these scenes and this was something you were unsure about. How, on earth, could you do this with someone like Cillian Murphy? By what you have seen, he was an incredibly talented actor. He was much more experienced than you and he was also twenty years older than you and, yet, you had to lead the scene? Seriously?

 ***End of Flashback***

 Making a quick right, you walked into the studio with Natasha. It was her first day on set for this season as well but, unlike you, she worked on the show before and was not completely overwhelmed by all the cameras and strangers.

‘Y/N, Natasha, welcome’ a blonde woman by the name of Lorraine said to you and, just as you reached for her hand in order to shake it, one of the directors came flying by and pulled you aside.

‘You are early. Good’ he said before telling you that Lorraine would be looking after your schedule which, according to him, had just changed due to an equipment break down on set three.

‘Okay, right’ you panicked while Lorraine was flicking through her notes in a haste. Everyone seemed to have been stressed out that day because of the technical issues and Lorraine was no exception.

‘What scene is up first then? you thus enquired carefully after waiting patiently until, suddenly another man appeared and hurried you along.

‘We will start with scene four, then move to scene eleven and then, this afternoon, we will shoot scene 34’ he told you and you were lucky that he handed you a running sheet as, otherwise, you would have gotten rather confused by now.

‘Scene 34? Today?’ you asked with some confusion and, whilst you knew that the scenes for the show were to be filmed out of order, this scene itself made you panic.

‘Yes. At 3 o’clock’ the director then said before taking off again in order to deal with the camera issues on hand.

‘Dear god, they are throwing you right into the deep end, don’t they?’ Natasha observed as she looked at your running sheet and saw that scene 34 was an intimate one with Cillian Murphy.

‘I am not prepared for this’ you pointed out to her anxiously especially since you have not even met your co-star yet but Natasha reassured you that you would be fine.

‘No one ever is but Cillian is easy to work with. You will be fine’ Natasha then reassured you, which is when Lorraine made a somewhat inappropriate joke.

‘I would gladly trade places with you’ she teased before pulling you along and giving you a calm and relaxing stroll through the studio following which you spent some more time rehearsing your lines.

***

Your first scene was with Sophie who played Ada Shelby and this scene itself was easy to film. It took less than three takes and Steven Knight was quick to tell the casting manager that he made the right choice when he chose you from the entirety of three hundred auditions. You worked well with Sophie and took on the directions given to you by the camera man.

The second scene was more dialogue heavy and you were basically there, on your own, raddling down several speeches in front of several stand ins and props and, whilst this scene took more than two hours to film, you did well. You were convincing and passionate and, just as you filmed the end of this particular scene, Natasha watched you quietly and smiled.

She behaved like a big sister, taking you under her wing and her presence clearly calmed you down.  

After about six takes, Steven Knight and the others were happy with your work and praised you again. According to them, six takes for something like this was not a lot and you appreciated their kind words.

After you were done with the scene, you took a break and spent some more time with Natasha, following which you were sent to the dressing rooms.

You had to get changed for your next scene, which was the rather raunchy scene between your character and Thomas Shelby and, whilst there was not much dialogue in this scene, it was the scene that concerned you the most.

You were meant to lead this scene and, by this point, you still had not met your co-star which was something that made you even more nervous now.

***

Luckily for you, you had waxed your legs and every other part of your body just two days ago and yet, when you sat down and a tall woman applied your make up, she still found a hair or two which she plugged away.

Unlike before when you were wearing somewhat ugly brown clothes for your scenes, this time around, you were sitting there in beige underwear while being assessed by the staff and, quickly, a few scares and blemishes were patched up with some foundation.

You were then given dark coloured lingerie which was raunchier than anything else you had ever worn before. It took your breath away and you felt incredible vulnerable when you put it on. On top, you had to wear a satin gown and you also were given some suspenders to put on which you knew your co-star would have to take off slowly.

‘Looks great. We are ready, I think’ the make-up artist eventually said and, out of respect for your fellow co-star, you quickly brushed your teeth before having your lipstick topped up.

Regardless of all of the preparation and your deep breathing techniques however, you were out of your depth with a scene like this and, when you first walked onto the so called ‘closed’ set dressed in nothing more than the satin gown and underwear, you began to fidget a little.

You were the first one there and sat down in the area indicated for you. It was a large bed in the middle of a room which was said to be inside the Midland Hotel. There were no windows, but several drapes which divided this part of the set from the rest of the studio.

Eventually, the director joined you and so did a camera man, followed by your co-star, Cillian Murphy and the studio’s intimacy co-ordinator shortly thereafter.

‘Hey’ Cillian said quietly and you could see that this was as at least a little awkward for him too. ‘I am Cillian’ he then said while shaking your hand and you carefully bit your lip and stammered out your name nervously.

‘I am Y/N’ you said while assessing your partner inadvertently and, just as you both stood there, the director and intimacy co-coordinator came to see you both.

‘Now, this is what I need from you both’ the director began to say before explaining the scene to you and apologising for the fact that such ab intimate scene was being shot on your first day on set.

According to the director, it was you who had to take control while, yet, Cillian was to remove your gown, suspenders and bra. Your nipples were covered up with beige coloured tape and the director explained to Cillian where to place his arm so that your breasts and the tape would not be visible on camera whereas the intimacy co-ordinator addressed your comfortableness level with this kind of scene.

‘We know that Cillian is used to being naked on set but, to you, this is probably something new and my word of advice is to ignore the fact that we are here. You can improvise on the lines and we will shoot the scene in three steps, giving you a break in between’ the director then furthermore explained and, with that, you nervously nodded before Cillian and you both waited for everyone to get into place.

Then, the director outlined the scene to you once more and, after the director indicated to the team that everyone was ready now, you and Cillian removed his robe which, until that point, he was wearing to cover his semi naked body as well.

The robe was collected quickly by Lorraine before she disappeared again and, just as Cillian’s robe came off, you couldn’t help but stare at his immaculately well-trained and rather pale body.

He had some tattoos which you knew were not real and, much to your surprise, his entire body was covered in freckles. He featured some chest hair as well and his body was perfectly apportioned.

The only piece of clothing covering him now was some white garment, beneath of which he was still wearing his actual underwear. You could see the rim of his briefs poking out the top, just beneath his stomach, reading ‘Calvin Klein’ and assumed that the camera man would not capture this.

‘Are you alright?’ Cillian then asked and you immediately snapped out of your thoughts, wondering whether he had noticed you starring at him.

‘Just nervous. Sorry’ you admitted shyly in response and Cillian smiled.

‘Don’t be. Just follow the directions of the crew and you will be fine. I promise’ he then reassured you and you nodded all while some sweat was building up on your forehead.

‘Okay, I will try. I am ready I think’ you then said, causing Cillian to nod and, whilst it was obvious to him that you had not done this kind of work before, he remained calm and patient.

‘Me too’ Cillian then said, shortly after which the director called “action” and you began your dialogue.

Cillian’s presence, however, threw you off guard completely and you needed at least three goes to even get your lines right at the beginning of the scene before you could even move on to the next part, which is where you were wrapping your arms around Cillian’s body.

You did, however, get there in the end and the director called cut. You took a breather and then commenced part two of the scene, which was also the longest and most intense part.

‘If you close down my fucking factory…’ Cillian began to say in a deep Brummy accent as part of the dialogue and you pulled him in tight.

‘Thomas! I am here now, for one reason only’ you said as you felt the bulging muscles of Cillian’s core.

‘And what reason might that be, eh?’ he asked and, just as you took in a deep breath and inhaled the fresh scent that accompanied him, you began to stammer.

‘Cut’ the director called and you quickly apologised.

‘You are nervous’ Cillian acknowledged and you wanted to responded with a snappy ‘duh’. Of course you were nervous. You were there, with a stranger, hugging his naked body.

‘I am, yes’ you told him and, just as the director gave you both another quick break, Cillian had a chat with you about the scene.

‘Take a deep breath and try to think about being somewhere else, with someone else’ Cillian began to say before giving you some pointers on how to feel comfortable, naked, in front of the camera. But what he didn’t know was that the cameras weren’t what threw you off. It was him. You felt some strange kind of attraction towards this man even though you had only just met him and even though he was twenty years older than you. What he also did not know was that he was only the second man who had ever seen you like this and you knew that, within minutes, he would be taking off your robe, unclasping your bra and kiss you. This, too, was new for you and you began to panic.

‘A park? You want me to imagine being naked in a park, kissing a stranger?’ you then eventually asked him and laughed to cover up your nervousness and this, too, made him laugh as well.

‘Okay, maybe a park was a bad example. Maybe your house. Your bedroom. Somewhere else, where you would usually have some privacy’ Cillian chuckled and you momentarily closed your eyes and tried.

‘Okay. Let’s do this’ you then said again and Cillian nodded before taking off his robe again.

‘Okay then’ he confirmed and, after about three goes, you managed to say your lines and found yourself in Cillian’s embrace.

Just as Thomas Shelby would, he tore off your robe and it landed on the floor while you tried to push him on to the bed. He let you, but each time you tried to be dominant, it looked awkward and, eventually, the director called cut again, for the tenth’s time.

‘Okay, this is not going to work. Let’s move on and revisit this part later’ he then said before directing you to both get on to the bed which is where he would pick up on the scene.

You felt a little deflated but, just as you were supposed to do, you climbed on top of Cillian’s half naked body and he sat up and caressed your back.

You tried your best not to make contact with his intimate region as, for the camera, you rocked back and forth, allowing your clothed breasts to move against his body while caressing his face until, finally, he kissed you and you began to crumble again.

The nervousness inside your bones was evident to the director and so was the fact that, in contrary to the script, you did not take the lead. You were unable to and Cillian realised that you were getting rather uncomfortable.

‘I am so sorry’ you said to Cillian who was nothing but professional and polite despite the fact that, no doubt, he didn’t really want to kiss you over and over again. By this point, you were up to take eight. Eight kisses and you simply couldn’t get it right.

You looked shy, afraid and nervous and Cillian was quick to hand you your robe again as the scene was called off once more.

‘Don’t be sorry, alright!’ Cillian said. ‘It is your first day and a scene like this shouldn’t really be filmed on one’s first day on set’ Cillian said before telling you about his embarrassing scene in a movie called 28 Days Later.

‘That is very reassuring, but I feel like a failure right now’ you said and there was something endearing about how he was so polite, yet his voice shook your core.

‘You are not. I have seen your work and I have seen your casting video too. It was great. So don’t stress, eh’ Cillian winked and, after yet another break, the director picked up on the scene again and, this time around, gave you much clearer instructions.

As before, you tried to follow them and, this time around, you finally managed to get some of the scene right, including a close-up kiss with Cillian.

But then, the next part of this scene involved much more and when the director and the camera man gave Cillian instructions again on how to move and how to remove your bra so that your bare breasts were not visible on screen, your nervousness returned.

This stranger was about to take off part of your underwear. Your bare breasts were going to be visible to him and, the worst of it all, was that there was actual skin to skin contact between you. Bare chested and semi-naked, you had to pretend to have sex. You had to moan and pull his hair while he had to pretend to bite your neck. It was a raunchy scene and, after it took you one hour already to get a twenty second kiss and some mild physical interaction right, you didn’t know how long it would take you to get a scene like this wrapped up.

You did one take, then another, then a third and, eventually, during your fourth take your bra finally came off and the embarrassment and shame was written all over your face.

You tried again, and again and again but between that, the moaning and hairpulling, it soon became too much for you and Cillian put a stop to it. The scene was not going to be completed today and you knew that this was your fault.

You felt deflated and thought that, perhaps, you were not meant to be an actress after all. Perhaps they should have casted someone older or someone with more experience.

You did not even know why you reacted like this in the first place. Why was this so god damn hard? Was it because of your lack of experience or was it because you felt somewhat flustered in Cillian’s presence? The fact that you thought that he was incredibly attractive did not help you. It made it so much worse and you felt like a little school girl who was too afraid to steal a candy bar from the school cafeteria for the fear of getting caught by the principal.

Of course, no one should ever do that and you thought that this was the most ridiculous analogy you could ever think of but, in the end, you could not come up with anything else.

When you filmed this scene (or at least tried to film this scene) your body was waking up to the idea of having another man pressed against your body for which you did not have much experience at your age. But Cillian did, and tried to guide you, with his arms pulling you and manoeuvring you like a delicate doll. And yet, his efforts were futile as your actions did not translate to the dominance your character was meant to portray.  

It was a disaster and the director was not exactly impressed by how the filming day ended and neither were you.

***

Later that day, back at the small unit which you shared with Natasha, you sat down and rehearsed your scenes for Day Two. You had two scenes with Cillian and, luckily for you, neither of them were intimate ones. Despite this, you knew that you had to pick up your game but Natasha believed that you were doing much better than you had thought.

‘Listen, your scenes are great. Sex scenes are awkward and after having worked with Cillian in the past I can tell you that he will not be annoyed or frustrated with you. He is one of the executive producers of the show and probably called off the scene to do you a favour. He is a nice and caring guy and is very professional even though, sometimes, he acts like a kid’ Natasha laughed after you told her in great detail about what happened that day and what you thought that Cillian might think about you now, causing you to panic about tomorrow’s schedule scenes with him.

‘He seems nice. But still. I failed. Miserably’ you said but Natasha shook her head and pulled you off your seat.

‘What are you doing?’ you wanted know and all she had told you was that you had to come with her; and so you put on your shoes and followed her through the apartment building until you eventually reached the front of apartment 38, which was located on the top floor.

As you stood there, wondering what was going on, Natasha began to knock on the door and, after about a minute, you were surprised when Cillian opened it, seeing that this was his studio apartment for the duration of the show.

‘Hey’ Cillian said before smiling and cocking an eyebrow all at the same time.

‘Do you want to come in?’ he then asked as Natasha already marched through the door and you were still standing there, frozen to the spot.

‘Uhm, yeah. Sure. Thanks’ you stammered as, in his casual clothes, he was a little less intimidating than being half naked.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ Cillian then joked, seeing that, clearly, Natasha was not there, at his apartment, just for fun and, when she asked him for a quick chat about today, you began to get a little nervous again.

‘A chat? Sure’ he said. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’ he then asked with a smile. His demur was generally friendly and down to earth.

‘What do you have?’ Natasha asked cheekily while looking through his fridge.

‘I have beer or tap water’ he laughed, causing Natasha to roll her eyes.

‘Tap water’ she chuckled and Cillian’s look turned to you.

‘I don’t drink alcohol, so tap water please’ you told him and he went to pour you and Natasha a glass of water with some ice.

‘You don’t drink? At all?’ Cillian then asked surprised and you nodded while he handed you the glass.

‘So?’ Cillian then said, waiting for Natasha to fill him in and, when she asked Cillian to tell you the story about their first ever intimate scene together on the Peaky Blinders set, he began to laugh.

‘Fuck, really?’ Cillian chuckled before realising why Natasha wanted him to spill the beans on his little mishap. What happened today was clearly embarrassing for you and Natasha wanted you to realise that it was not as uncommon as you thought.

With that in mind, Cillian did, indeed, tell you what happened and, according to him, filming had to be called off for three days because he inadvertently broke Natasha’s nose in Season Two.

‘How?’ you wanted to know, causing Cillian to shake his head. He could laugh about it now and so could Natasha but, back then, more than three years ago, he was petrified.

‘We filmed that scene, in Tommy’s office, and it took about ten takes. It was not as intense as the scene we filmed today but it was a difficult one for us both. Then, when the director finally called cut, I got up, leaning against one of the props and it slipped.  My forehead went straight down and I hit Natasha’s nose, breaking it’ Cillian explained reluctantly and you gasped.

‘Yeah, I was naked and covered in blood while Cillian almost fainted’ Natasha laughed, causing Cillian to roll his eyes.

‘I did not’ he ought to clarify but Natasha continued to tease him.

‘You so did. You turned pale and got all dizzy’ she said, causing even you to laugh.

‘Right, so today wasn’t so bad after all then?’ you acknowledged and both Natasha and Cillian shook their heads.

‘Honestly? This scene should never have been scheduled for your first day on set and I spoke to Anthony and Steven about it. We will just give it another crack in a few weeks or scrap it’ Cillian said and you appreciated his words.

‘I don’t want to scrap the scene. Clearly, Steven thinks it is important’ you then said but Cillian laughed.

‘It is not important. The studio wants some nudity, that’s all that is’ Cillian acknowledged.

‘Aren’t they getting to see your naked butt in episode two? Isn’t that enough?’ Natasha then teased, causing you both to laugh.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian told her and, just after you had a little laugh yourself, you asked them both how they ever manage to film scenes likes this, namely raunchy intimate scenes.

‘Cillian? You’ve done a few more than me’ Natasha went on to say but Cillian simply laughed again.

‘What works for me will not necessarily work for you. I honestly just try to switch off and focus on my lines and the directions given to me’ he explained while shrugging his shoulders.

‘Great. I did try that and, quite evidently, it did not work’ you told him.

‘It might after we have some more scenes together. Like I said, I think that it was a mistake having a scene like this scheduled for the first day on set even if it was scheduled that way simply due to the mechanical breakdown on set three. You’ll be fine and we can talk through the scene beforehand if you like’ Cillian suggested and you nodded nervously.

‘That’s true. You will get to know each other first before you have to make out again. That always helps’ Natasha chuckled, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Your comment is not very helpful Natasha. Making out? Really? This is art, work, or whatever you want to call it. But it is not making out’ Cillian laughed, trying to cheer you up and you sure had a quick chuckle yourself when he commented on Natasha’s suggestion.

‘Well, I tell you what I do Y/N and no offense to you Cillian, but when I film a scene like this I think about the man in my life and just switch off. So, if you have a boyfriend, think about him. That might help with the comfort level’ Natasha explained causing Cillian’s eyes to widen.

‘I do not. I am single. Happily so’ you said and Cillian couldn’t help but comment again.

‘I am glad’ he said bluntly and now it was your turn to cock an eyebrow at him.

‘You are glad? That I am single?’ you asked surprised but, clearly, this was not what he meant.

‘No. I am glad for the fact that you don’t think about making out with your boyfriend while filming a scene like this with me because that would be fucking awkward for me’ Cillian laughed but Natasha jumped into the argument again.

‘But it helps Cills! Seriously!’ Natasha said but he still shook his head.

‘See, this is why we have different approaches. If any man would think about their girlfriend during a scene like this then a whole other issue arises and I mean literally’ Cillian laughed and so did you all. He sure behaved like a teenager now and this, somehow, made you more comfortable being around him.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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#cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby #Peaky Blinders

[silverskye13]

💫💝💞

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

I have two favorite types of comments.

"OP I am doing you physical harm for the emotional distress you've caused me / biting you biting you biting y--"

[My favorite variation of this is when one of the major characters died in Casting Rain, in which the comment said only "Respectfully, fuck you." I think I laughed for 20 minutes straight.]

And

"Here is an in depth analysis of all the little details, nuances, and foreshadowing you put into this story, intentionally or otherwise. Here are all my theories on where those details are going to take us, right or wrong." I reread those over and over and over again, smiling and giggling like a small child. Oh people pay attention? They pay attention to the stupid little details I put in there? Oh! Joy! Joy for author for 10000 years!

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Hound's Tooth. I thought no one would read it / it would be too angsty or OOC for people to find it enjoyable. Instead I got a lot of comments from people saying it made them think deeply about their own past traumas, gave them the words to describe their own conflicted feelings, and helped them think about body dysphoria in a different way. I was very surprised. Also there was a really nice commenter who talked about their coclear(?) implants [the story had a lot of themes about body dysphoria around Doc's prosthetics] and how they dealt with the dysphoria around that, which was an experience I hadn't even hoped to touch on realistically but it was lovely to have someone comment specifically to say I had and they had enjoyed it.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

W... Worldbuilding. Worldbuilding? Worldbuilding. Aside from it just being wildly fun to create workable universes for your characters to play in, worldbuilding helps inform character development so much. If the world is at war, how different characters handle the stress tells you bits about their personality. The social norms they ignore tell you what they find important. When you switch POVs, how they talk about their environment in contrast to how somebody else does gives them so much life, makes them feel more real. Also, you can fit so much symbolism into worldbuilding.

Knight character who fights in an arena, but noticeably wears his helmet all the time when no one else does -> he's hiding something

Elemental character who thinks it's nerve-wracking that someone isn't treating him like a weapon -> the world expects him to be dangerous

Werewolf character who struggles a lot with hiding what he is -> the world didn't always require him to, and something has changed to make it so it does

The mirror is smashed in a missing person's home, and the last image he drew was his own face -> there was something important in his reflection, possibly something he mourned

Real Fic Writer Asks

#ninvic-art #real fic writer asks #answering asks

[sherifftillman]

oooh mistletoe and jonathan!!

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x gn!Reader (no pronouns/gendered terms)

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Here we are again! Is this day 2 of ficmas because it's my second fic, or day 3 because it's December 3rd? My brain hurts.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” You ask, trying to break the silence between you and the only other volunteer for the school dance committee. It’s the fourth time you’ve tried to engage with him - not even the teacher assigned to chaperone you had ever introduced either of you by name, much less said more than five words to either one of you. They’d just handed over the list of things to do, nodded silently at the two of you and went back to the faculty lounge. You’re fairly sure that leaving the only two people who actually volunteered to decorate the hall to do it themselves isn’t the right thing, but who are you to question it?

You get a hm? from the boy and decide that’s enough for you to work with, “The theme of the dance being Winter Wonderland. Making everything look like it’s all snowed in. In California.” He gives a small chuckle and a nod of recognition. “I don’t even think I’ve ever seen snow.”

“You’re not missing out.” He speaks!

“Oh? Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” you inquire tentatively, not wanting to push his boundaries but hopeful you’re finally getting a conversation out of him.

“Small town in Indiana,” he answers meekly.

“Ah! I bet it’s so nice to be all tucked up at home while the snow falls thick outside, not having to worry about school for a few days, just getting to go out and enjoy it all with your friends,” you wistfully daydream, but he brings you back with another slight laugh.

“Not in small town Indiana,” he explains. “You work in Hawkins, you live in Hawkins. You live in Hawkins, you can get to your school or work eventually, even if it’s just by foot. They’ll pardon any tardiness for the weather, but they’ll still expect you to show up.”

“Well, that’s gross,” you pull a face, and he laughs a little harder. “At least here, we’re still going in because the weather hasn’t changed at all.”

“Yeah, it’s certainly nicer to wake up not living in an ice box!”

“So, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I ever caught your name when we were assigned together?” you finally ask.

He smirks, “That’s because we were never really told each others’ names. Jonathan. Byers,” he sticks his hand out to you, pulls it back for a second, then makes a gesture of resignation and holds it out again.

You tell him your name as you take his hand with amusement. “You good, there?”

“Yeah, it just… Felt weirdly formal to do that. But then I started so I had to go with it, y’know?” he shrugs awkwardly.

You laugh, “You’re totally fine, dude. C’mon, we’ve got like 12 thousand snowflake streamers to hang from the rafters, because that’s definitely a job for two teenagers to be safely trusted with.”

“I think you may be fudging the numbers a little there,” he raises his eyebrows at you.

You study the boxes that sit at the side of the school hall, rest your hands on your hips and nod. “You’re right. It’s definitely closer to 14 thousand.” He shakes his head at you, but a smile still tugs at the corners of his lips.

Later on, as you’re tying what does actually feel like the ten-thousandth streamer, you call across the hall, “So, Jonathan Byers.”

“You know, just Jonathan’s fine, too,” he shouts from where he’s positioned, climbing down his ladder to move onto the next area to hang decorations on.

“Just going by how you introduced yourself,” you tease. “You don’t exactly seem like the school dance fanatic type.”

“Neither do you,” he points out.

“True,” you shrug. “But I called you out on it, first.”

“Yeah, well,” he mirrors you. “My brother and sister, they’re… They’re being real quiet about how well they’re adjusting to life here. And I don’t really ‘do’ the whole dance thing, but I thought maybe if they knew I was a part of it, it’d help them feel better about going, and they might end up making some friends.”

“That’s really sweet,” you smile at him. “You guys must be real close.”

He nods, “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Been through a whole lot together.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” you blurt out as you’re tying the string of another streamer. You don’t notice how flustered he gets.

Instead, you only hear him ask, “So, your turn now. No more hiding.”

You smile, “Would you believe it, same reason. Got a freshman sister being pushed around by some little bitch of a kid,” you snarl. “Angela. What’s your siblings’ names, I’ll tell my sister to look out for them.”

“Uh, Will and El- Jane! Jane,” he corrects himself hurriedly. “Um, her name is Jane, but we call her El sometimes. Eleven’s a family nickname, one of those ones where it’ll take too long to explain,” he flusters, and you laugh.

“Chill out, dude, it’s okay. My sister and I still talk like we’re old people sometimes because of a game we used to play when we were super little. Families have stuff like that,” you shrug, and he grins.

“Do I get a taste of your acting prowess, gramps?” he teases, and you flip him off, to his amusement.

Once the streamers are up, and lights are strung around the hall, you shake your arms out. “Ugh, if I have to hang one more thing, it’s gonna be my-” You cut yourself off, not wanting to scare Jonathan off with your own dark humour, but he finishes the joke for you in his head, laughing under his breath.

“Hate to break it to you, but there is one more box over there,” he points to it, and you throw your head back and groan as you trudge over.

The pair of you open it together, looking at the mess of dark green you’re met with in confusion. “What is this stuff?” Jonathan asks quietly as you reach in and try and take some of it out.

You end up holding onto something and pulling it out. The branch twirls amongst your fingers as you finally realise, “Oh my god, it’s all mistletoe.”

Jonathan’s cheeks tinge pink, and you quickly drop the sprig yourself. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Pardon my French, but what the fuck do they want us to do with all of this?!”

You put on a silly ‘news reporter’ voice, “This just in, Lenora Hills High faces its biggest mono outbreak in decades! It’s an epidemic out here, folks! Tons of teenage biological terrorists who just couldn’t keep their chapped little lips off of each other!” Jonathan laughs loudly, the sound filling your ears with delight. Your voice returns to normal, “Should we, uh, “forget” to have unpacked this one? Save the whole dance from becoming a raging orgy?”

“Considering our reasons for wanting to make sure it goes well? Absolutely,” Jonathan grimaces, this time making you laugh.

The two of you find a storage closet obscure enough to hide it in that you can make the excuse of forgetting all about it. Once it’s buried far back enough, Jonathan gestures for you to leave the supply closet first and makes sure he carefully locks it afterwards. “Um, so. That’s about it for all of the main stuff. Everything else, I think we’ve got to do on the day,” you explain. “Well. It was nice to meet you, Jonathan Byers!”

“You too,” he nods. He holds his hand out awkwardly, but retracts it before you have the chance to shake it again. Instead he offers you a shy smile before skulking away.

You tell your sister about the Byers kids. She tells you that she’s seen them, but she’s always shied from associating with them in the hopes it makes them all more of a target. You assure her there’s strength in numbers, especially when it comes to the quiet kids.

By the day of the dance, your sister is offering to help you set up. Confused, you bring her along, and you soon see why as Jonathan shows up with two kids around her age, too. The three of them run off excitedly together and it warms your heart to see her actually having friends. “Look at them,” you simper as you meet up with Jonathan.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty great, huh?” he smiles back at you. “Uh, hey, while they’re getting started, I was… Wondering… Would you come with me to my locker? I need to get something from there, first.”

“Sure!” You chirp, following him out. You walk over to his locker in relative silence, only speaking when he’s finally at it. “So, what’s up, did you forget something?”

“More like… Forgot to “forget” one thing… From the other day…” Jonathan mutters as he searches his locker before grasping something with an ah! He turns to face you and you see a branch of mistletoe being clutched tightly in his hand.

Your whole face flushes as your heart forgets how to beat in a steady rhythm for a few moments. As you bite your lip with excitement, he looks down at the mistletoe sprig, tapping it against his palm a few times nervously. “Um, you know…” You pipe up. “I think you’re supposed to hold it up, and then we can get under it.”

Jonathan lets out a nervous laugh, finally looking up at you. He dangles it between the two of you and you pull his face to yours as you kiss him. He places a hand on your shoulder to steady himself, that soon moves to your neck, cradling your jaw and stroking it gently with his thumb. The pair of you keep kissing until Jonathan’s arm gets tired, but then you simply take his hands and rest them around your hips, sliding yours around his neck to resume kissing him. He’s still shy with it, but there’s an eagerness behind his kisses that you’re dying to get out of him.

He breaks it off to laugh breathily, “S’pose the kids’ll be pretty pissed if they’ve gotta do everything themselves, huh.”

You shrug, “Their three pairs of arms outweighs the two we’ve got, and we managed fine.”

“You’re insatiable,” he smiles affectionately, but you do swivel round to start walking back.

“So. Jonathan Byers.”

He sighs jokingly, “You know, that’s gonna be a mouthful every time you say it.”

“I know, but I have to commit to it now,” you reply back in the same tone. “So. What exactly are your plans for tonight?”

“Drop the kids off, maybe sit in with my buddy Argyle while he’s working, ’til it’s time to pick the kids back up again.” He looks over to you as you fall into step with each other. “Why ask?”

You look at him in disbelief, chin pointing down and eyes tilted up at him, eyebrows raised. He still looks lost, so you shrug, lilting, “Okay, fine, I suppose if there’s nobody else you’d rather be doing something else with…”

He chuckles, “Well, if you’ll have me… I guess we could carpool all the kids and just take the one car?” 

You’re glad your sister’s going to have a good time with her new friends at the winter ball, and that she won’t have to put up with the constant ridicule you’d get at always missing out on school social events.

But for you, laying across the back seat of a cute boy's car and making out with him is a far better use of your time.

#jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan stranger things #jonathan byers fic #jonathan byers fanfic #ficmas #*myfics

[maglors-anion-gap]

1, 11, and 13 from the nice asks, please?

[for this ask game]

A fanon characterization that you love:

I really enjoy fanon lalwen. She's not in the silm and she gets almost no exposition elsewhere so she really is the blorbo personality I invented. Lalwen the best friend of fingolfin, lalwen fingolfin's right hand man, lalwen the loud and the smiling, lalwen the lesbian -- idk I just really like how some folks have turned her into the big, gregarious lady, especially since most of tolkien's ladies fit different niches (tolkien would have exploded if he'd ever met a butch dyke, I don't think he'd know what to do with a woman like that). Otherwise, I like fanon maeglin a lot. Singly handedly fixed tfog for me so that I didn't have to avoidantly flip past chunks of it. Maeglin's canon behavior is obviously a real-world phenomenon (and the reason I had personal issues enjoying tfog) so there's value in analyzing that. But at least for me, it's been very nice to see people examine the interplay between low self-esteem and outward confidence, the trauma of adolescence and the adult responsibility of growth and recovery, inquisitive desire for greener grass and the feeling of freakishness or otherness. I think a lot of it takes themes present in the original but pares away some of tolkien's dated coding and the broader discomfort casual fans might want to avoid.

11. Recommend a fic with an unusual/original headcanon or characterisation that you loved:

I would recommend Half Mourning by @skyeventide! One, I love the idea of Maeglin having Dwarvish tattoos. There's so much depth there; that they'll fade and take a part of his identity with him, how distancing himself from the bad parts of his life has forcibly distanced him from the good or familiar parts as well. Two, Maeglin as a mirror for other people! Gaia has really masterfully captured something I didn't know I needed to see in Maeglin. He's usually written to be either charismatic and biting, or withdrawn and dejected (and to be clear, I enjoy both). But this fic kind of opened a third door: Maeglin who is whatever the situation requires, who has past associations and familiar customs but no real positive tether to his identity, the knowledge that he is not unwelcome but that he does not belong, that the easiest way to avoid scrutiny is to mimic the person in front of him. I felt very called out.

13. Recommend a fic (can be your own!) that features something you wish was written about more:

This is actually a series (sorry) but The Years Start Coming and They Don't Stop Coming by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor! I am very taken with Visitor's Celebhir (trans celebrian). I think a lot of folks (myself included) often write trans characters as having transitioned to their canon genders (for example, transmasculine maedhros is a staple of mine). And I love this, it's great! It's one way to explore. But I think for a while, at least what I saw, there was a bit of a stir across fandoms about best practice for writing trans characters (eughgghhh) and the Arbiters settled on "needs to match canon gender" and then enforced that vigorously. So personally, I love love love it when people take a canon character and say "I'm transing their gender the opposite direction." It requires you to analyze the character, pare them down to the characteristics about them that will never change (similar to the analysis required to set them in a wildly alternate universe) and then overlay on top of that the new characteristics of what it's like to be trans, how they interact with the world now, how that changes their character, etc. For example, Visitor's Celebhir has a certain tension with Galadriel that wouldn't exist in that manner for Celebrian. Very very tasty analysis going on. (I will be posting transfeminine caranthir soon - I say, having said this for the last three months). TL;DR: I think we should trans more characters, and if your first anxiety is "what if I'm transing them wrong??"/"I heard someone say you should never trans a character like this" you're probably *not* transing them wrong and it's going to be fine (and people love to beta so!)

#answering this was the fic game version of trying to clean my room #took me all day bc i kept getting distracted like oooh hey i forgot i bookmarked this -

[dirtyoldmanhole]

real dweeby navel gazing time

i think one of the reasons i am having genuinely, so much fun with this gunter slowburn fanfic despite sitting at a literal 53k words rn and with it probably being close to 90k all said and done, is it's ... writing the ship i see myself in the most by far on both sides.

like, ever.

this shit is the rawest most honest shit i've ever written.

i've talked a little bit about how corrin's memory wipe stuff is literally a 1:1 to my anesthesia/childhood surgery/physical therapy conga line of bullshit. even aside from the helpful textual 'here's how this works from a medical event standpoint' there's the 'here's the emotional scars that it will leave because yes it is a bodily/mind violation of a sense, over and over, and jesus all of this of this stuff goes so well thematically to the straight up fantasy bullshit of nohr with the underpinning of being hyper-aware to the themes of "power" "use" "what it takes to survive by emotionally dragging yourself through a minefield" etc. stuff i've been ruminating over since being conscious lol.

then my body's so whack from a physical joint perspective that there's also almost word for word conversations from gunter's side that i've had with my gf about how to navigate certian shit from a kink perspective but also like... how to maintain dignity when your body's kinda physically crapping out on you due to the march of time.... without loosing the sexytimes u know?

the concept of dignity in the face of being broken is a huge theme in this fic that gets echoed. very poignant for reasons you fates players know.

amusingly there's a scene near the end where corrin's helping him to shave after his stroke. (in one of fate's "clearly having a giggle at my expense" coincidences i've been in contact lately irl with somebody who's also gone through a stroke and man is it not easy) and it's this kind of perfect blend of she's helping him, technically, with something that could just be... god awful self loathing brainspace wise for him but it turns into this amazingly hot kink scene with some serious sizzling power exchange.

the dream, man!

there is a real thin line between being able to laugh at yourself *while* keeping that dignity to pointedly.... having to not look in the mirror some days. desire and shame being some real fucked up entangled wires too, in that sense.

the tumblr uwu approved discussions re: tricky medical/'my body is crapping out on me man and i can't hide it'/kink shit and having to be ~valid~ all the time gives me the hiiiiiveeeees man (and i'm not knocking it for other people, i know why it exists, but it sends my hackles up u feel).

and yet this fic still feels like, hot, in the fun sense.

there's enough fun whacko fantasy taboo elements in it that it doesn't feel .... oh no this ain't sexy this is Too Real, you feel, or too much like a trauma fic(tm)

there's the sexy yandere villain ossan (lol), corrin herself has one hell of a sex drive (and honestly that's yet another huge focus, that wish fufillment fantasy of this 'pure fragile princess chick that's fought over like a prize by everyone else' who gets to choose 'no i actually want the hot villain kthx'. she actually rants to him several times about being fought over and having everyone else from nohr/hoshido project all the shit on her.

(and him being all, I got you, I get it.)

he actually does!!!! that's the funniest darkest most ironic thing!! he's got that weird blend of being aware enough from a kink perspective and just 'went through enough shit' life perspective of why sometimes the most sacred, profound thing you can do for somebody is to break them when they ask for it. sometimes in the dark u just want the brain wires to go bzzt.

there is a weird as hell comraderie in the sense of facing very specific demons that only they have (which, again, hilariously, goes so well with the themes of revelation! invisible enemies/demons that only you two know about.)

and then i have like yet another essay in me about how literally every character i've RP'ed is a suspiciously similar to his whole... archetype.... like all of my RP partners have gravitated to playing the chicks in the het relationships and i've always RP'd the snarky older guy going through life snarking at shit and being a closet misanthrope (there's probably some presentation/gender-aligned stuff going there but this is already navel gazey as hell lol)

anyway

tl;dr i haz feelz

#bla la la la ~ #the dad jokes in the fic make it worth it too #idek this came about when i caught myself genuinely finding it easier to write gunter's POV scenes. though i dig corrin's a lot too. #motto of writing this fic (said in the voice of the classic ms. frizzle): make it weirderrrrr

[timur-pannonicus]

News from my mind, episode 1

So, since it's the name of my blog anyway I've decided to try to clump my most recent random musings together and just list them in somewhat random, somewhat planned order. I'll quote a statement and comment about it. Here it goes:

"Why are Azula fans so closed off from the greater fandom?"

Dunno, it could possibly, maybe have something to do with the inexplicable phenomenon that if people are treated like outcasts they will gravitate towards other outcasts and view the people hurling insults at them with wariness, perhaps even resentment. Question for the sociologists.

"Why do you hate Zuko and Iroh!?"

I personally don't hate them, I actually LIKE Zuko and nothing will ever change my enjoyment of reading reconciliation fics between him and his sister. I'm not too fond of Iroh since compared to actual Eastern wisdom his words feel like fortune cookies. Still, this isn't my main point. I know fellow fans who really do hate them but... if you feel ok with hating Azula for hurting and mistreating your favorites I don't see why it's such a mystery to you that someone who has her as their favorite could feel the same towards the people who treated her harshly, whether it was fair or not.

"Why are you so obsessed with the mirror scene and the beach?"

Because antis pretend these moments don't exist, are ooc, should be ignored or somehow confirm how purely evil she is even more.

"You are forgetting she did X and Y and also Z?"

Yet when it's an attack on her her good or human moments can be completely ignored and not acknowledged at all. As another favorite character of mine once said: The good doesn't wash out the bad, nor the bad the good. I'd be really happy if more people adopted this view since apparently in our modern age you can only be either a saint or a monster, ignoring human nature altogether.

"The comics prove that she's irredeemable!"

The comics DO prove something in abundance and it's that her biggest obstacle towards redemption is that SHE doesn't believe she's capable or deserving of it. She views herself as monster but has no idea how to be anything else. Yet even after everything Zuko's and "Ursa's" words of love in The Search were enough to deter her from attacking and she even dropped the letter that could discredit Zuko.

"Azula fans are Nazi apologists!"

I may need to make a poll but every other fan I ever talked to is either left leaning or a full on leftist. But since offense is better than defense I will say that advocating for someone to be put to death or imprisoned and tortured for life because their mental illness makes them too dangerous, now THAT'S a Nazi talking point.

"Redeeming her would be consistent with the themes and messages of the show and make most sense narratively."

True. But I give the antis this, it's perfectly possible to enjoy a piece of media while also disagreeing with its message. I love House M.D. and the message of the show is that people cannot change, ever, no matter how hard they try or how much they want it, something I obviously disagree with. Saying a show would be better if it contradicted the very theme it tries to promote is another thing though. Perhaps it's just my preference for consistency though.

"You cannot woobiefy Azula because she's such a jerk!"

Good thing that tv tropes has an entry called Jerkass Woobie and the description fits her to a T. Look, at least I personally have no problem whatsoever with people gushing over turtle duck Zuko. It's a perfectly normal reaction for someone you both feel for and think is hot. I just happen to have this feeling for his sister and I refuse to feel guilty about it.

"Azula fans are such hypocrites!"

Everyone is blind to their own faults to a degree or doesn't bring their train of thought to it's logical conclusion. Everyone should try to be better though. But you know what, no group is perfect, you just have to admit to yourself that you feel more comfortable with one over the other.

"Azula fans don't love the real her, only the image they have of her in their head."

This is true to some extent but it's also a loaded question which clearly implies that the real Azula is only a crazed monster and nothing else. We love her in large part because we see the POTENTIAL in her but we try to base our speculations and headcanons on what can be seen or deducted from the show itself. If you can't follow the logic or disagree with the conclusions or just refuse to give the benefit of the doubt, that's your right. Also I'm fully aware and ok with admitting to myself that I sometimes believe things because I WANT to, like that Zuko does care about her at least deep down and that she's capable of being happy in a heterosexual relationship. This brings me to my last Azula related entry:

I like shipping her with Zirin from the comics due to mathematical reasons.

It's a known thing that adding minus and minus together results in plus. They are both mentally disturbed and immoral young women so adding them together can only result in positive things.

Also one plus one equals two. They are both hot and cute on their own so together is even better.

Anyway, thank you so much for getting to this point. I hope it was a ride. I will however NOT comment if this post turns into a heated discussion.

Also for all those concerned about my mental health, I DO think about things other than Azula but since most people are interested primarily in my comments about her I've decided to list my other brain spills in a separate post.

#azula #avatar the last airbender #philosophy #atla humor #fanfiction #cartoon #fandom #fandom critical #anti anti #fandom discourse

[adventureofthedancinggirl]

This is primarily a fandom blog, currently focused on BNHA, previously active in BBC Sherlock.

Here you'll find fandom things, headcanons, rambling about fics (and writing in general), occasional meta, as well as other miscellaneous things I find interesting.

AdventureOfTheDancingGirl on AO3. Writing updates are tagged: dancing girl writes

Sideblogs:

@seeyouafter a collection of my thoughts and various ephemera related to my ongoing tdbk epistolary fic "See You After"

@ordinaryoffensivemagic various content related to the manga/anime 葬送のフリーレン (Sousou no Frieren)

Notes and helpful tags:

Asks are open if you want to chat. Give me an excuse to talk about my writing notes or headcanons if you want to make my day. Anon is usually on but be kind. There is a real human on the other side of the screen.

Replies are tagged as dancing girl asks. If you want to say hi but don't know what to say, feel free to check out the ask games tag.

🏷️Tag Index:

I have a comprehensive tag index that I finally updated but these are the tags that I'm using most often these days:

💜Personal Tags:

dancing girl rambles - random thoughts, generally not fandom related

dancing girl writes - tag for my fics and general thoughts on writing (previous tags: my writing - this one has mostly Sherlock stuff, writing updates)

also: see you after fic, sya writing log

dancing girl's reblog themes - sometimes I go down a rabbit hole and reblog a bunch of related posts. It's a fun time.

🩵General writing & fandom stuff

on writing, writing reference, fandom life, AO3 tips, tumblr tips

💚BNHA Content

dancing girl’s bnha thoughts - includes my personal reactions, headcanons, misc. thoughts related to bnha

bnha fanfic - includes my fics and others I recommend

I use the tag bnha for all my hero academia related reblogs. spoilers are tagged bnha manga spoilers

Chapter reactions/thoughts are tagged with the chapter number as bnha xxx,  see also: bnha meta (not all meta is mine)

images: bnha manga, bnha anime, bnha art (for my favorite bnha fanart)

Multi-ship friendly but TDBK is my OTP. (that being said, a lot of my reblogs with "ship" tags are purely for organization purposes and many can be viewed as platonic.)

I just want a happy todofam au so I made a tag for it (other favorite AUs: fantasy au, winter au, childhood friends au)

The ladies of this series don't get enough love so I like to highlight them with the tag bnha girls

Todoroki Shouto tags: shouto loves cats, sleepy shouto, todofam, shouto art, shoutocat, strawberry shouto-cake, shouto birthday

Bakugou Katsuki tags: dynamy, sleepy katsuki, katsuki comfort, bakugou family

Other commonly used character tags: class 1a, origin trio, remedial squad, dadzawa, eri-chan (If you're searching for someone specific I generally just tag the character’s name as it shows up in AO3’s tagging system) 

misc collections: 2023 bnha xmas sketch

💛BBC Sherlock

Main tags: sherlock, johnlock

Sherlock Fic Recs - Mostly BBC Sherlock universe. Most of my own Sherlock fics are under the My Writing tag

BBC Sherlock: sherlock meta, series 4 theories (also: season 4 theories), sherlock parallels, mirrors

Original Canon: acd canon, AStudyInCanonBookClub, acd parallels, sherlock analysis

see tag index for additional tags and other fandoms

🧡Misc. Tags (not fandom)

mental health, reminders, encouragement

otterly adorable, cute animals, beautiful things, reasons to smile

bookish things, reading log, quotes

💭Random Facts:

I share my birthday with Dabi and Burnin'

My username is a play on the Sherlock Holmes story "Adventure of the Dancing Men".

Even though I'm not active in the Sherlock fandom anymore, I decided to keep the same username because dancing is part of my IRL identity and I didn't want to keep track of a separate account. Also, Mina is my dancing (alien) queen so the name still works.

#dancing girl rambles #welcome #navigation

[1001scoganmusings]

Irrevocably ruined by you pt.1

A/N: Hey guys here it is! The long awaited steamy Valentino fic I promised. Hope you like it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Leave a likenif you want to be tagged in the next part. It’s already in the works. Sorry I take long to post it just work and life can get hectic so thank you for being so understanding and kind. Now just know that this is a poly ship between Valentino x reader x Vox and of you are not in to that I implore you to just skip this one.

Warnings: foul language, religious themes, low self worth, low self esteem, awful family members, kissing, fingering, vaginal sex, spanking, nipple play, car sex

Words: 10.4k (sorry so long)

Minors for the love of god please stay away this is for adults only thank you 🙏🏼

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

It was your birthday and your friends had announced that they would be taking you out to celebrate.

You stood in line with your friends waiting to get into the new night club that just opened up down town. The night air was warm but not too humid. You were all dolled up in your favorite sexy dress with your make up done and your hair styled to perfection. You looked stunning and felt like it too.

The line moved and it was your groups turn to go but as you got closer the bouncer held out his hand effectively stopping you guys. “Sorry.” he says. You sigh hating that you’ll have to wait a little more before going in. “I got this.” your friend whispers conspiratorially in your ear. She walks up to him puts her hands on his chest and stands on her tip toes to whisper something into his ear. The way his expression goes from curious to lustful in mere seconds is quite comical to you. She kisses him slipping her her tongue in to his mouth as she slides one of her hands down his chest to his crotch and gives him a good squeeze. He groans in to her mouth breaking away from the kiss with a loud smacking sound.

You were shocked to say the least but if she wanted to work her magic and get y’all in there faster who were you to stop her. You can hear people talking and saying disgusting things about your friend. You turn and give them the the meanest dirtiest look you can muster effectively silencing them them.

She walks back to you all and smiles sweetly at him. “Go in.” he says to you all signaling with a jerk of his head in the direction of the gleaming golden double doors leading to the inside.

“Hey how is that fair! It’s not like I could get in if I squeezed your balls. Why should she?” A man behind you says throwing your friend a look of disgust and annoyance.

But the bouncer pays him no mind, as if no one had said anything at all. You walk past him your friend giving the bouncer a wink as your group disappears through the doors.

“Oh my god. What did you say to him?”

She turns to you giggling. “I told him that if he let us in right now, I’d finally let him try anal.”

“Wait do you know him?” You say confused. You had thought he was just some stranger.

“Yeah he’s my new boyfriend. I’ve been going out with him for about a week.” You weren’t surprised to hear this. Your friend was real pretty and nice. Exactly the type of girl that deserved to have a gorgeous buff boyfriend in her life.

The inside of the club was packed; bodies gleamed with sweat swaying and writhing against one another. The blaring music thrummed through your body as you swayed your hips in sync with the beat. It felt so good to just let go and get lost in the music letting the day’s troubles melt away. The club was decked out in a dark red wall interior with black marbling that was illuminated by neon red lights along the walls and an onyx black floor polished so well that it looked as if you were dancing on an obsidian mirror. The whole place had an erotic and seductive vibe to it. Very private.

There were beautiful men and women of all colors that looked as if they were dressed as sexy butterflies dancing inside of large gilded golden cages that hung from the ceiling. The neon lights reflecting off their wings making them look translucent and iridescent. Though if someone were to get too close they’d see that those wings weren’t a costume. And neither were their pitch black eyes and sharp pointed teeth. Their lithe bodies moved and swayed so fluidly with the music. It was hypnotic to watch. Club goers crowded around them. Some throwing money others looking up at them, their eyes darkened with desire and lust as if they were in a trance of some kind. Demons in plain sight. It was almost comical to you. Except, it really wasn’t. But no one seemed to care or notice anything out of the ordinary. People never really notice the things around them as much as they should have. Oh well, can’t help people if they don’t really want to see in the first place.

As the song ends you guys make your way over to the bar ready to buy drinks. A tall lanky man with tattoos and very pale skin comes over to you guys. “What’s your poison?” His long and sharp pointed fangs jutted over his bottom lip as he spoke. You can feel the the warm wave of magic he’s used to glamor himself with disguising his true form.

You can only see a demon’s true form if they want you to. Sort of like fairies but without the whole hating to be seen thing and cursing your family to death. To them it was more of an inconvenience than preference if people started screaming and panicking because they saw something they couldn’t understand much less comprehend.

“Is this club goth themed or something?” One of your friends asks. The man behind the counter smiles an awful razor sharp smile showing off all his teeth. “Yeah something like that. But tonight’s theme is a little special.”

“What is it?” You say curious at what it could be.

“Depraved ladies night sweetheart.” He says fixing his crimson red eyes on you as if he was sharing some kind of inside joke with you. You weren’t amused. He knows what you are. You know he knows. Things like him can always sense people like you. Honestly it’s not uncommon for demons to do business up top. Most corporations are owned by demons anyway. The human ceos and board of directors are nothing more than puppets and stand ins for the real owners. You just wished you had known who exactly owns this particular club before setting foot here. Serves you right for not checking it out before letting your completely normal friends take you someplace new. Demons took business rivalry to a whole other level and weren’t fond of witches they either didn’t know or weren’t on their payroll. If you weren’t careful you might not make it out of here alive.

He turns back to your friends a mischievous smirk on his face. “So be as bad as you possibly can tonight ladies. No one here cares. Tonight is all about what you want. Trust me we got all kinds here. We are at your mercy tonight.” Your friends laugh at his declarations but you just wanna get as far away from him as possible. “Now, I’m Tony your bartender for the night, what can I get you ladies?”

Tony finishes making your drinks and hands them out to you and your friends. You take a sip feeling the cool burn of your drink as it goes down your throat. It was delicious the fruity flavor mixed with the alcohol blending perfectly together. You hadn’t realized just how thirsty you are and end up drinking the whole thing at once. You set your glass down and take a moment to look around you. A waitress dressed in a white sexy cat outfit that barely covered anything was at one of the booths along the walls taking drink orders. She turned and cough you staring. She winked at you with her jade green eyes and blew a kiss in your direction. You blush and look away. Some people in the private booths have already started to have fun getting a little too handsy with each other. And you were more than sure one couple was having a little too much fun if the mewls and moans you were hearing were correct. Well it is depraved ladies night. You wonder if you’ll take someone home tonight. It was your birthday after all and treating yourself tonight was definitely top priority.

As you and your friends begin to walk away a hand comes down on your shoulder. “Baby did you get all dolled up and pretty just for me?” A raspy and sultry voice whispers in to your ear. You turn to see a very tall skinny man dressed in a dark red suit and a red fedora smiling at you. His short hair pure white with streaks of red running through it and crimson red eyes. He looked like one of those 1920s gangsters you saw on tv sometimes.

“Excuse me?”

“What don’t tell me you forgot about me already baby. How cold, your breaking my heart.” You stand there at a complete loss for words. Who was this man? Did you know him? He takes a puff of his cigarette and blows out red smokey hearts. “You know I don’t think you recognize me huh? Here let me just slip in to something more comfortable.” He steps toward you and his glamor falls away like mist. Valentino stoops down to your height grinning at you with his trade mark cocky smirk. You can see your reflection mirrored back at you in his heart shaped sunglasses. “What’s with that surprised look on your face?” he says amused at your reaction.

“I don’t think she knew this was your club Val.” A dark haired man in a dark blue suit with glasses says stepping out from behind Valentino. His glamor melting away to reveal Vox.

He was right you hadn’t known this was Valentino’s club. But as you look around you can definitely see it’s all to his taste. You breath a sigh of relief, the tension in your body finally easing now that you knew you were safe from being potentially killed. No you weren’t on their payroll but you guys had history and you were in their good graces.

Vox looks at you his eyes dancing with mischief as he reaches out to touch you. His finger tips gently trailing down your arm as his smoldering gaze ensnares you. He brings your hand up to his lips and softly kisses your knuckles. “We missed you doll. Did you miss us?” Your face heats up as your heart flutters at his out right unabashed boldness. Valentino clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at Vox’s display of affection. Mumbling under his breath about showing off. If anything could be said about demons it was that once they saw something they wanted, there was no deterring them from having it. They’d have their prize one way or another by any means possible; good or bad. It the one thing you really admired about them. The drive and ambition you wished you possessed to go after the things you really wanted most in life without worrying about the consequences.

For hundreds of years witches have worked with demons to help them expand their empire. What had started off as a desperate plea for help was now a begrudging act of acceptance. You see, back in the day when Christianity was new and on the rise in your town of Madride, nobody really cared for anything the priests were preaching about. It seemed to the villagers that all the Christians cared about was money offerings to the church in the name of their god, more than love and good will towards others. No one was buying it and this angered the church. So in a desperate attempt to seize the people’s attention they created horrid lies and rumors about the local witch families. The lies got so bad that eventually there was so much mistrust between the two people that the church was able to use that to lead their own witch hunts and kill anyone who spoke out against them. That was their real plan, to strike fear in to the hearts of the poor towns folk. To show them that the world was full of wicked and unholy monsters. And that only the church and their faithful worshippers could drive them off.

What a bunch of bull. Oh to be able to see the looks on the corrupt priest and clergymen’s faces when they realized that no, they didn’t go to heaven and were in fact as awful and terrible as everyone said they were.

The church would send their witch hunters out to towns suspected of being infested with dark magic and kill innocent men and women. Yes they were witches but, they only ever used their magic to help and heal others from their sufferings. It seemed like everyone had forgotten who had been keeping them disease free with their herbal concoctions and remedies. Who helped them deliver their babies and made sure the crops did more than well during the yield season for the farmers. It was as if madness had taken hold and everyone was slowly losing their grip on common sense. And even when there was proof still no one would listen to the witches when they spoke of how the church was behind all these terrible things happening. Of how the church was stealing children and live stock from the people. Of how the church was burning crops and poisoning the water supply by throwing rotting animal carcasses in it, not satan and his minions. But the witches’ words fell on deaf ears.

The witch hunters unfortunately were very good at their job. Too good. They were killing families faster than we could come up with new defenses against them. Soon there was only a handful of families left in town and they were terrified. If they tried to leave their town their whole family would be hanged with no trial of any kind. But if they stayed they ran the risk of exposure. Either circumstances were not ideal. Children and pets were not exempt from punishment. The church argued that if they were innocent that they’d just have to suffer for a short time before being taken back in to gods loving embrace. So in a desperate attempt to save anyone else from being killed, all the heads of the families convened under the new moon under the city and decided it was time to ask for help. They summoned Lord Lucifer and struck a deal with him. No the witches didn’t believe in God because they had never spoken to or seen him. But demons, the keepers of ancient and terrible knowledge, had been encountered plenty of times.

The families promised to Lucifer and his kin to spread their vision of corrupting humans however he saw fit in exchange for his help. Lucifer accepted and in return promised protection from the church or anyone who ment them harm. Lucifer only asked that the families had lots of children that way there’d be plenty of workers for him and that this would make the deal more than worth it. Reluctantly the families agreed not having any real choice in the matter. And this was the way of things for a while. Then at the turn of the 18th century as the church’s power began to dwindled and evil creatures of the night fell in to fantasy and superstition the deal changed, slightly.

We still work for the demons but now instead of cursing or hexing them to death, we work at our white collar jobs making sure everyones lives are miserable and unaffordable. Some of us being bank owners or ceos and others politicians put in strategic places to get laws passed that benefited our employers. So yes we still wreak havoc on the towns people but we just do it in plain sight and under the protection of the law.

The demons came topside for coven initiations when the children would turn 21 and come of age to scout out new workers. It was a prestigious honor you had been told over and over again since you were small. One you wanted desperately. To not be chosen wasn’t a bad thing but it wasn’t exactly looked upon favorably by the families. Depending on how high in rank the demon were determined who got first picks and who didn’t. With the new deal came new benefits. The witches would still run the top side business for the demons and in exchange your family not only got paid a portion of the profits but were able to learn all sorts of forbidden knowledge. Old Dark Magic being the most in demand. This was the way of things by the time you were born. Thats how it is and that’s probably how it will be for a while. At least until the world changes again.

Vox and Valentino. God yes you did miss them. You had met Valentino and Vox at a coven meeting one night. They had come to scout for new workers with some of the other overlords. The royals having already came to town last week to take their picks. You were new, barely turned 21 and were being initiated in to the life. You had been working on your necromancy skills since you were 7 and hoped to impress them enough to be put in a prestigious hospital as a head surgeon. As head surgeon it would make harvesting organs to sell on the black market for a higher profit much easier. This was how you planned to make a name for yourself.

As you introduced yourself and what you could do demonstrating your gifts you caught Valentino and Vox’s eye. They had invited you over to their table to drink and dine with them. They had been so witty and charming. Their friendly and casual demeanor was almost enough to make you forget they were viscous creatures that would kill you with out hesitation. But you were still polite and respectful not wanting to get on their bad side. As the night wore on their intentions had become noticeable. It started off innocent with small touches to your face and thighs, that led to sultry kisses on your lips and neck, that eventually progressed to them fucking you in a spare broom closet.

You can remember how they roughly fucked you at the same time driving away all thoughts except how you never wanted them to stop. The way they roughly gripped your thighs and held you open, feeling the sting from their clawed hands dig in to you as the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin was all that could be heard. Of how their cocks stretched your pussy out wide and filled you up so good, reaching the deepest parts of you making your eyes roll every time they hit you g-spot. They took turns thrusting up in to you rubbing against your walls just right making sure that you were always full no matter what. Making you a babbling drooling mess and had you feeling as though they were breaking you in half with their cocks. Or the way they had kissed each other right in front of you so lewdly making you moan from how hot that was. You were so loud at one point Vox had to cover your mouth before you all were discovered. But nothing, nothing could’ve made you come harder than seeing the absolutely wrecked and drooling expressions the demons had every time you clenched around them as they told you how hot and tight your pussy was. The soft mewling noises Valentino was making as you chanted his name softly. And the way he had looked at you so possessively as you begged him to make you cum. Or how Valentino had shuddered as you came on their cocks. Oh how he had kissed you over and over again through your orgasm swallowing down your cries of ecstasy, his eyes glowing softly like dying embers were solely focused on you. It was so cute how he tried so hard to hide his whimpers and gasps by biting down on your shoulder as they both came so hard deep inside you a few moments later. You could’ve sworn you saw Vox short circuiting out of the corner of your eye while he was coming. The high you felt from making these two overlords of hell cum their fucking brains out was making you giddy with pride. To know that even if there were others before you, you had done it best. Fuck how could he even think you had forgotten. They had practically fucked you within an inch of your life.

Funny enough though, when the meeting came to choosing workers you weren’t one of their picks. In fact you weren’t picked at all by any of the overlords. Your parents trying to console you only made you feel worse. Your feelings stung by how they discarded you without so much as a second glance. But what did you expect they were literal demons. It was in their nature to be cold and cruel. They saw an easy opportunity to get laid and you had stupidly fell for it. Of course they didn’t think you were special. No you had just been an easy lay. You avoided them for the rest of the evening trying not to look in their direction even though you can feel their stairs watching you closely. Not wanting them to see just how hurt you actually were you pay them no mind not wanting to see them laughing and mocking you. And especially not wanting to see their expressions of indifference etched on their faces.

As the meeting was called to an end and everyone was leaving a hand grabbed your arm surprising you and pulled you aside to one of the secluded alcoves in the hallway and pinned you against the wall. His hands on both sides of you trapping you in his arms. It was Vox. He was glaring down at your feet as if they had done something especially nasty to offend him. He sighs and speaks softly still not looking at you.

“Look I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now and your probably really pissed at me but just listen ok.” You scowl at him and cross your arms letting that be the only indication that you were listening. “I’m just here to tell you that the reason we didn’t pick you wasn’t because we don’t like you or anything. Its because we like you that we didn’t pick you ok. So wipe that look of your face and go back to smiling like you were earlier.”

“Yeah that’s a no. Also if you guys liked me so much then why didn’t you guys pick me? I thought my skills would be of good use? I mean did I do something to offend you or -“

“No!, ” he hurriedly interjects “you didn’t do anything you were,” he pauses and lets out a breathy laugh his eyes softening as he looks at you his hand coming to rest on your cheek, “you were incredible.”

But you swat his hand away not really wanting to be touched right now. “Then what is it? Was I just good enough to fuck but not good enough to work with? Is that it? Oh my god, that’s it isn’t it?”

He rubs a hand over his face with increasing impatience as if I’m just not getting what he’s trying to say. “No! It’s just -, I don’t think -, Val can be kind of -“ he growls in frustration and turns away from you walking a few feet away from you with his back turned, his hands balled in to fists. What in the world was he trying to say? Why couldn’t he just get it over with and spit it out? He takes a deep breath in and releases it. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks back at you over his shoulder. His face set in a hard and cold expression.

“The way we run our business, the way we do things, it just wouldn’t suit someone like you.”

“Whats that supposed to mean?” You say clearly offended and confused “What kind of work do you guys do anyway?”

“Val has an iron grip on the sex industry and I have a monopoly on the entire internet market.” he said it as if it was nothing. Just your everyday ordinary jobs.

“Oh.” you say slightly impressed and distressed at the same time. He stands there looking at you with a look that says told you. And as much as it irked you he was right. Neither of those things suited you. Not with your magic being better suited to necromancy. There was no way you would fit in to their categories of work.

“So what, you came here to warn me? Of what, that you guys might not be good for me?”

He turns back around facing back to the wall.

and answers derisively, “Were demons doll were not good for anyone.” Not good or not good enough you think. The thought makes something in your chest twist uncomfortably.

You knew demons could be kind in their own strange way. But you’d never guess it. Not with all the dick measuring and power plays that went on in Hell. Everyone trying to one up one another. Always trying to manipulate and bring someone else beneath themselves. And for what?

The whole idea seemed pointless to you. Everyone had their glass ceilings that they’d never break. Overlords would never become princes or princesses and those princes and princesses would never become the kings or queens. So why bother at all. But you supposed this need, this thirst for power and dominance was only an illusion to what they truly craved. Love and acceptance. No creature that lived and breathed could be without these things. It was one of the oldest pieces of wisdoms you learned as a witch. That wasn’t to say that if you loved a demon they would love you back and everything would be fine. No this way of thinking was pure fantasy. For a demon to truly love and be loved in return they’d have to go within and introspect themselves and change for the better because they want to. To truly heal and be better. This was something that they’d have to truly want for themselves. But they don’t, just for the same reason you don’t wash your car everyday; you just don’t feel like it. Conform and be sinful or be crushed under the weight of your own pain and anguish. This was the unspoken rule of hell.

Even with knowing all this there was just something about these two that you couldn’t leave alone. It would probably be a good idea if you did but, you weren’t really great at making good choices. You walk up to Vox and wrapped your arms around him hugging him from behind. You can feel him flinch as if this was the last thing he had expected you to do. “If you were really so bad, why come back here to make sure I’m ok?”

He turns in your embrace so that he’s facing you; his hands on your hips pulling you close. “Maybe because Valentino told me to come sort things out on his behalf or he’d kill me.”

You give a small laugh at this, “What, why?”.

“Well between you and me I think it was because he really likes you and was sort of scared of what you’d say.”

“Really,” you smile “an overlord of hell afraid of what I’ll say?” Vox just nods his head in agreement. “I don’t believe you.” you say shaking your head in exasperation.

“It’s true. Valentino isn’t good with saying how he feels. He’s better at showing than telling. Trust me I’ve known him long enough to know. Plus I think he was afraid you’d reject him with how much you were ignoring us. He doesn’t take rejection well if you know what I mean.” You can just picture Valentino sitting in his limo arms crossed with a pout on his face. The thought strikes you as cute.

“Or maybe,” Vox says as he leans close to you your faces mere inches away. “Maybe I really did this for myself. To be the last to see you again before I had to go.” The desire in his eyes makes your face heat up. He leans forward and kisses you sweetly and slowly. As if he’s trying to savor this moment with you. To commit it to memory for later.

That had been about a year ago. You had wondered to yourself many times if maybe Vox had just been being nice and letting you down gently. Which was stupid because why did he apologize at all if they were just going to ghost you anyway.

The sound of Vox’s cellphone brings you back to the present. He lets go of your hand and answers it. His face turns in to an scowl clearly annoyed with whoever’s on the phone. He hangs up and starts to leave. “Everything good?” Valentino says raising a brow. “Yeah just a business associate of ours acting up. I’ll handle it.” Vox bends down and kisses your cheek. “Wish I could stay but duty calls. Maybe another time doll.” He says walking away leaving you alone with Valentino.

“So what are you doing here?” Valentino says taking a drag of his cigarette. The sickly sweet smell that comes from the smoke coupled with his intense stare make your pulse quicken and your head feel kinda fuzzy.

“It’s my birthday and I’m here with my friends celebrating.”

“Oh you came to celebrate huh.” He puts his cigarette down on an ash tray on the counter. His hand tilting your chin up to look at him. Those gorgeous red eyes of his looking down at you playfully. “How about I give you a very special gift just for you the birthday girl? Would you like that baby?” he says gliding the smooth material of his leather clad thumb across your bottom lip. “I know you fuckin’ would. Besides I gotta pay you back for that little slice of heaven you gave to me that night way back when.”

You scowl at him not in the mood for reminiscing. “If I made you feel so good then why’d you ghost me?” The question catching him off guard by his surprised expression.

“What’s with that surprised look on your face?” You say mirroring his words from earlier. “Did you think I’d forgotten? Or that I wouldn’t be upset?” You didn’t really want to fight with him but you were still upset about the whole ordeal.

He quickly schooled his features and smiles. “Aww did you miss daddy that much baby?” He coos.

“Fuck off Val.” You swat his hand away flicking him off turning and walking way.

“Hey come back here. I was kidding can’t you even take a joke?” You walk a little faster but his long legs make it easy to keep pace with you. “I said come here.” He says sounding frustrated. You make a bee line for the women’s restroom and almost make it inside, your hand on the door when, Valentino grabs your wrist whirling you around to face him as a pair of arms wraps around your waist and the other pair of hands take a firm hold on your wrists pulling you flush against him.

“Let me go.” You try to pull out of his embrace but he’s just too strong.

“Firstly, don’t fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” You glare up at him disliking just how easy it is for him to over power you. “Secondly, don’t think for a second I haven’t been dying to see you again.”

“Yeah right, liar.” You roll your eyes looking away from him and not believing him for a second.

He lets go of one of your hands and grabs your chin turning your face roughly to meet his. But you still don’t meet his eyes.

“Look at me.” he demands angrily.

And you do so begrudgingly. But you were not prepared for the honesty and sincerity you see in his eyes as he glowers down at you.

“I ain’t no liar. I’m a lot of things babe, a lot, but a liar ain’t one of ‘em. I’m serious. I’ve missed you.” He let’s go of your chin to cup your cheek. “But I’ve got responsibilities in hell that just can’t be ignored. Things that you can’t know about for both our safety. You think I wanted to stay away. Hell just hanging around me could get you killed.” Then this whole time you thought they had been ignoring you. But in reality all they were doing was protecting you. The cool material of his gloves soothing against your blushing cheek. “But trust me when I tell you, you’ve been on my mind everyday since the last time I saw your pretty face. Also Vox has been talking about you ever since too. It’s been real annoying. He even went as far as to stalk all your socials just to get a quick look at you. Talking about how he misses you and shit. Fucking stalker.”

They had been thinking about you just as much as you had been thinking about them. Happiness blooms in your chest. You were more than to know you weren’t just a quick romp in the sheets to them. “I didn’t know.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about us. But you could if you want to.” the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. You don’t answer not sure what he means.

“I mean,” he says hurriedly as if he revealed too much. “I don’t think you understand just how much I can’t get how you looked that night out’a my head.”

“Then make me understand.” You say challengingly.

He bends down brings his mouth close to your ear. He runs his lips along the shell of your ear giving it a quick kiss. “The way you were driving me crazy with those sexy little noises you were making. Or how that wonderfully tight pussy of yours milked my cock perfectly.” He chuckles at the shiver your body gives as he speaks in to your ear, his warm breath tickling you. “I could’ve taken you for a pro at cock milking. Had me shaking, knees wobbling like I was getting baptized or some shit. Hell maybe I was. I wouldn’t mind getting to worship you forever.” His sinful words were going straight to your core. Of course you remember. How could you forget. It was the best sex of your life.

“What do you say baby? Gonna let daddy make it up to you tonight? Gonna let me worship that beautiful fucking body of yours? You don’t even realize how hard you got daddy’s cock just thinking about it do you?” He takes your hand and brings it right to his crotch. Sure enough you can feel he’s hard as a rock. You cup your hand and massage him through his pants. His hips grinding against the heel of your hand. He leans his forehead against yours as his grip tightens on your waist. “Fuck you don’t even know how bad I want you right now do you? Yeah keep looking at me, ah fuck, keep looking at daddy don’t look way.” As if you even wanted to. “Look at how you make me baby. All bothered and hot just for you.” Seeing him come undone so quickly from your touch make your pulse quicken and your pussy clench. “Just say you want me and I’ll make all those filthy fantasies i know you got locked up inside that head of yours come true.”

You bite your lip and nod not being able to bear another second without him inside of you. “What’s that? Daddy couldn’t hear you baby. Your gonna have to speak up.”

“Yes. I want you Val. Please make me feel good tonight.”

“That’s my good girl.” Valentino says taking you by the hand and leads you away from the dance floor and out the door that says exit.

~~~~~

You straddle Valentino’s lap in the back seat of his limo. Grinding against each other as his hands are fisted in your hair while he kisses you. The warm wet glide of his tongue against yours making you feel dizzy with want. Your hands parting his coat to undo the buttons on his long sleeve business shirt. The front of his pants soaked from your wet pussy. He breaks the kiss with a lewd smacking noise and you moan as he bites your lip tugging on it gently with his sharp pointed teeth. You run your hands down his bare chest feeling his stomach muscles jump under your feather light touches. The ravenous hunger in his smoldering gaze makes you tremble all over. There was a promise in those eyes of his but whether it was of pleasure or something else entirely you weren’t really sure. Never had anyone looked at you with such need, such desire it was entirely and inexplicably intoxicating. If you weren’t careful this man would be your undoing.

A pair of his hands pull down the front of your dress exposing your chest. An appreciative hum rumbles from his chest as he brings his hands up to touch you. The cold leather of his gloves making your nipples peak and pebble as he caresses your breasts. “Damn baby, you really do have a perfect fucking body you know that?” Your eyes flutter as his fingers gently pinch and pull at your nipples making you gasp softly and arch in to his touch.

“Wish you would suck on them.” you say wanting to feel his warm mouth on you.

“Oh do you now?” He said pleased by your filthy words. “Then beg nicely first.”

“But I did.“ you pout up at him.

But he remains stead fast. “No, you said I wish. Wishing ain’t begging.” You just look at him not sure if he’s serious or not. But he just leans back in his seat a pair of arms spread wide across the tops with a challenging expression on his face daring you to make your next move.

Fine if he wanted to play hard ball then so would you. You rise on to your knees, hands on his shoulders as your chest is level with Val’s grinning mouth. “Please daddy suck on my nipples. Please use your mouth to make me feel good.”

Delight lights up on his face at your act of sluttiness. Something about this man brought out a naughty filthy side of you that you didn’t even know existed until you met him. “My baby’s such a little slut tonight aren’t you?” His hands come away from the tops of the seat to slide up your back bringing you closer as he slowly circles your nipple with his tongue before sucking on it. Tugging on it gently with his teeth. You let out a gasp letting your hands come up and rest on the back of his head for purchase as your head falls back and you surrender to his wonderfully talented tongue. You bite your lip trying to stifle your voice as you feel the sharp sting of Valentino’s teeth bite down on the side of your breast hard enough to leave a mark. He soothes the bite with gentle licks lapping up the tiny droplets of blood that well up. He trails his lips to the other breast giving it the same treatment as the first. He’s so attentive and gentle with you. Could this really be the same cold and heartless Valentino all of Hell feared? The cruel and power hungry moth pimp? The same man who mistreats and hurts people for a living with out a care? How? The difference between the two was so enormous as if they weren’t even the same person at all.

The cool air inside the limo contrasting with his hot mouth make goosebumps break out all over your skin. The hands on your waist slide down to your to your thighs and up all the way under under your dress. He groans in to your chest and looks down. The look of unbridled lust in his eyes as he sees you’ve gone commando tonight. “And just who the fuck were you gonna give this pussy to tonight huh?” He says angrily. A harsh smack lands on your ass when you don’t answer fast enough. “Were you gonna give some nameless dumb fuck what’s mine?”

You shake your head. “No Valentino I -“

Another harsh smack lands on your ass. “Shut up,” his hand tangles in your hair angling you to look down straight into his eyes as he sinks two long fingers in to you. “Now let me make this clear,” his voice dropping low and dangerous as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you making you hot all over. “If you ever let anyone beside Vox an I touch you I’ll kill’em. “ His fingers massage your g-spot. “I’ll kill’em so fucking painfully and slow while you watch. Then I’ll fuck you right on top of their life less body.” You could hear the lewd squelching sounds your pussy was making. “No one touches what’s mine and lives. Do you understand?” a smack to your clit had clenching around his fingers, juices running down your thighs. His threat shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. But oh god it did.

“Yes, yes I understand. Yours, all yours Val. No one else.” You babble already almost at your limit of teasing.

“Good.” He says satisfied with your answer. “Hmmm what’s this?” Val looks down at his hand currently fingering you to see it’s drenched in your love juices. “I guess my baby is more depraved than I thought huh?” You chose not to answer. Not wanting to boost his monstrous ego anymore than it already was. “Damn, your really clamping down on my fingers. What, did my little speech really do it for you?” He laughs derisively. “If your this wet I guess your ready for the main event then huh.” You moan as his fingertips brush against your g-spot on last time before withdrawing completely.

You almost stop breathing as you watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and lick them clean. The way his tongue curled around each finger before taking it in to his mouth and sucking on it. It was the most erotic and sinful thing you’d ever seen. “Shhh don’t whine daddy’s knows what you need. And I’m gonna give it to you real good alright baby.” You hadn’t even realized you made a noise.

You watch as he undoes his pants. The clinking of his belt as he unfastens it sounds too loud in the quiet of the limo. He pulls out his thick 10in cock and sighs as he strokes himself leisurely. “Come here.” he pats his lap and you lower yourself back down till you can feel him lined up with your entrance. You try to sink down on the tip but are stopped by his hands holding you in place. You look up at him in confusion but he just smirks. “Nah not just yet.” He moves to rub the head of his cock in small tight circles on your clit. The much needed friction making your thighs tense and shake, driving you crazy. “You like that baby? Want me to put it in? Want me to shove it all the way in deep inside huh? Want it real fucking bad don’t ya?”

“Val just get on with it already.” you say impatiently. You were so done with fore play and you wanted him to just hurry up already.

“Nah, a slut like you has to work for this cock.”

“But you said you’d spoil me remember?”

“That I did. But that was before I knew you were gonna spread you legs tonight for some fucking cocksucker nobody.” He says glaring at you. “So now you beg. Beg me and I’ll give it to you just the way you like it baby. Rough and deep.” He leans down and kisses down the side of your neck; sucking marks here and there. “Look at how wet you are down here for me already. Your pussy is practically drooling all over my cock.” You look down to see he’s right. His cock was wet and shiny as your juices drip down his shaft. “Hurry up and beg already. She’s hungry, aren’t you baby,” he starts slapping his cock against your pussy and watches as it clenched around nothing “and I can’t wait to feed her, her favorite meal.”

Arrogant jerk you think. Valentino could be such an annoying pain at the worst time with his cocky attitude. But as much as it killed you to admit it, he was right. You wanted him. Bad enough that you were willing to put your pride aside an beg him to fuck you.

Arrogant jerk you think. Valentino could be such an annoying pain at the worst time with his cocky attitude. But as much as it killed you to admit it, he was right. You wanted him. Bad enough that you were willing to put your pride aside an beg him to fuck you.

But you know how to get him to give you what you want. You place your hands on his face pulling him down your lips against his and whisper “Please fuck me Valentino. I need you so badly. No one else can make me feel the way you do. I know you want me just as bad as I want you so top pretending already.” You say as you place chaste kisses on his lips trying to entice him to give in and break.

Your plan works but his face has the exact same expression from the last time you guys were together. That look of lost and confused. As if no one had ever spoken to him like this before. Had no one said these words to him? No that was ridiculous. He was the overlord of lust and depravity. Surly tons of past lover had said these exact things to him too many times to count. But then, why was he looking at you like that. As if no one ever had. No. Now was not the time for such thoughts. You put it in the back of your mind and bring yourself back to the present moment. The one where your about to give Valentino the ride of his life; give the lord of lust a run for his money.

His grip on your hips eases letting you lower yourself down on him. You both sigh as the head of his cock slips into you. You relax letting yourself take more of him in. The delicious stretch making your walls flutter around him. He makes a choking noise and grits his teeth as you sink down about half way. God he was so thick how did you manage to take him and Vox at the same time before when you already felt this full. Taking him slowly was probably best but you just couldn’t wait anymore. You rise up till jut the head was in and just let yourself slam down on his cock. “Fuck.” Val growls through clenched teeth, his eyes falling shut as his head falls back against the seat. The stretch bordering on painful but you didn’t care. That was more than fine with you so long as you got to see Valentino’s calm and collected demeanor shattered. You wanna see it again. To see him writhe and squirm until his a complete wreck under you. To see him so desperate and hungry for your touch as you were for his.

You slowly lift yourself halfway up. “Val,” he lifts his head meeting you gaze as you say, “look at me and don’t look away.” as you let your self drop down. His eyes seemed to glow darker and brighter in the darkness of the car as he tries to keep them open. You could see the way he was fighting to keep quiet as if he wasn’t affected at all but you weren’t fooled for a second. You could feel how his thighs tensed and hear how his breathing had started to pick up. Making him come undone so quickly was enough to make you giddy with confidence.

“Tell me, tell me how much your enjoying this Val.” You say breathlessly, a cocky smile on your lips. His eyes bore in to yours. Taunting him might not have been the best idea but it sure as hell was fun. His hands griped your waist tighter, his claws sinking in to your flesh. You hoped it left marks in the morning. It would be your proof that he was really feeling it and loving it. “How much your, ah, loving how good I make you, fuck, make you feel. Tell me, oh god, how you’ve never had a, fuck, had a pussy as good as mine.” You laugh bouncing on his cock as his scowl deepens. “Nothing to say? Oh fuck, guess I’m just that good -“

You feel it. You feel the exact moment that Valentino’s resolve breaks. In a flash his hands come around your neck cutting you off as he plants his feet and just starts driving up in to you with reckless abandon. Your surprised screams of pleasure filling the inside the limo. “What’s the matter?” Where’d all that confidence go? Who has nothing to say now? Tell me!” The way he bounced your body up and down on his cock as if you were nothing more than a rag doll had you more turned on than you cared to ever say. His glasses skewed on his face as sweat falls from his brow. You close your eyes and held on for dear life just letting yourself get lost in the feeling of being used by him. Fuck it was too much and not enough. He was stretching you out so wide that it felt as if you could feel every ridge and bump he had on his cock. He was so deep it felt as though he was in your stomach. He adjust his hips slightly hitting your g-spot. You screamed, surprised by the blinding pleasure and the intensity of his thrusts. You knew you’d never go to heaven but hell of it didn’t feel like you were already there. Your toes curling each time he hits your g-spot with the head of his cock. You look up at him tying to convey what you can’t say; More, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, please make me cum, I want to cum.

“That’s it baby, fuck, scream for daddy. Let everyone know who’s cock is making you feel this fucking good.” He snarls. “Fuck it’s too good. Your pussy is sucking down my cock like a pro. So good,so tight” he says drool leaking down his chin as he looks at you as if your the most fucking mesmerizing thing he’s ever seen. An wasn’t that just the best damn compliment you ever heard. The lord of lust saying you were the best he’s ever had. You almost came for a second.

Liquid fire felt as if it was coursing through your veins as stars danced across your vision. “Please, please let me cum, oh fuck please.” You beg him as tears form in the corner of your eyes. You were so close just a little more. And there it was again just like last time. That look of possessiveness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “Fuck what are you trying to do to me?” Awe and confusion mingled with frustration colored his voice. As if he couldn’t quite believe what what happening. “You think you can just make me feel like this? What are you doing to me? Are you trying to fuck with my head?” He growls. He was panting hard now moaning unabashedly mouth open to far gone, beyond the point of caring. He was close, you could feel it by the way he twitched inside of you each time he bottomed our and how his thrusts were starting to become choppy losing any sense of rhythm.

One of his hands came away from your neck to rub tight circles on your clit. “You wanna cum, then go on cum for daddy. I give you permission to cum on this cock baby. Let me feel how much you love gettin your shit wrecked by me.” That was it. The tight thread in your belly snapping and you were coming. Wailing as you came not caring if the people outside in the parking lot heard you. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck” Val cursed his eyes slamming shut as your walls constructed and fluttered around him pulling him over the edge with you. He thrust in to you a few more times before hilting one last time. A cry of your name on his lips as he shuddered, his hot semen spilling inside you filling you to the brim.

Oh god you were still shaking as you sat there letting your brain come back online. That was it. These damn demons had ruined you for life. There was no going back to sleeping with humans now. Labored breathing was the only noise now inside the car. Valentino released his hold on your neck. “You good?” he asks sounding winded as he gently rubs your neck checking for any signs of bruising. You nod and wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer and kiss him. Your tongue sliding between the seam of his lips asking for entrance and he grants it. The way he kisses you was so tender and almost loving. This was only your second time being with this man and already you could feel yourself getting lost in him. Your heart feeling as if it’s swelling with some indescribable feeling as he wraps his arms around your back pulling you close so there’s no room in between. His other hands rub soothing circles on your waist where he gripped you too hard.

When your both done redressing as best you can Valentino presses a button and speaks in to a speaker. And to your horror the driver of the limo answers. “What’s your address?”

Are you taking me home?

“Yeah why you not done partying? I guess we could go back inside and have a couple of drinks it’s only 2. We still got another hour before last call.”

“No, I mean thank you for, the ride.” Thank you for not just sleeping with me and then ditching me like last time is what you really want to say but you don’t. You give the driver your address and the limo starts up and pulls away from the club.

Valentino light a cigarette the soft glow of the bud illuminating his face. He offers it to you but you decline. Smoking not being your thing. He rests his chin on his palm on the armrest of his seat as he looks out the window. You sit there awkwardly not sure how to proceed. But he decides for you as he pulls you closer to his side. One arm draped over your shoulders and another wrapped around your waist.

“It wasn’t a coincidence that we met here tonight was it?”

“Aren’t you perceptive.”

“How’d you even find me? How did you know I was going to be here?”

“I used a locator spell I got from an old acquaintance to find you. As for how I knew you’d be here tonight, I didn’t.“

“So what you built this club close to where I live and came everyday hoping to maybe see me there.”

He just shrugs his shoulders and continues to look out the window as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.”

“You could’ve just come to visit me or I don’t know maybe called me, you know.” Your starting to suspect what Vox had said about Val being scared of what you’d say was true. But again why? You were no threat. Or was it more of a feelings problem than a physical one. Demons after all are unfortunately all emotionally immature. No matter how strong and powerful they were.

“Why don’t you live with your folks?” He asks breaking the silence. Witches tended to live with their families till marriage but you had to move out sooner. The shame and disappointment had gotten to be too much for you.

“It’s complicated.” He raises a brow as if saying try me. So you continue. “My family and I haven’t really been on good terms since initiation last year.”

“How come?”

“Well as the only child of the house of Dramir it is, was my duty to bring honor and glory to the family name. I had planned to make that happen by showing off my skills and catching the eye of some overlord who could make that happen. That was how I was going to make a name for myself. But it didn’t work out like I had hoped.”

“Wait aren’t you guys supposed to have lots of kids for crap like that? Why are to an only child?”

“My parents did try a couple of times before me but those pregnancies ended up being still borns. My parents were devastated each time. They had lost hope of ever having their own child. Until they had me. I was their little miracle. So with that they poured all their knowledge and resources in to making me as strong as I could be in hopes of impressing you guys. But i guess I just wasn’t what you guys were looking for.” Valentino laps back in to silence and doesn’t speak for a while. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows out small smokey red hearts. You watch as they bump against the car window and slowly dissipate. Then finally he turns his attention away from the window and on to you.

“That doesn’t explain why you moved out?”

“Witch society can be brutal and very shallow. To be turned away from being picked at initiation is the equivalent of being told that your weak and worthless. Because if you are valuable and of use then there would be no reason to not be chosen.”

You can remember the awful things people said under their breath about you. Or the mocking your parents endured during coven meetings. Of how all the other parents gushed about their child’s new position only to ask “ - and what about your daughter? What does she do?” The absolute duckers that had been.

“I am now the reason my family is the laughing stock of our people. A disappointment my grandmother had outright said to my face. My parents never say it out loud though which I think is worse but I can see the disappointment in their eyes and their tight smiles whenever I’m mentioned. So now I live here in Miami. Hopefully this will be far enough away that I won’t bother my family.”

Valentino just looked at you a myriad of emotions playing out on his face as you told your story. But he didn’t say anything to which you were grateful. “Big skip across the pond for a fresh start. Not the worst decision.” It was actually the best decision you had ever made. Here there was no pressure to perform. No old biddies telling you how to act and how to live as a witch. Out here you could breath. Being a with was who you were but that doesn’t mean it should be the only thing you are. You’ve enjoyed finding out what kinds of things you like to do and how you really want to dress and wear your make up. Never again would you be modest or conservative about anything ever again.

“So what do you do now?” he asks curiously.

“I now am the proud owner of my own business.” you tell him proud that you were able to start a business all by yourself.

“Oh.” He says interested. “And what exactly does your business do?”

“I sell my magic to those who can afford it.”

“Like what, 5 dollars a pop for a tarot card reading?” He smiles and chortles.

“No.” You say playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “It more like 25 dollars actually.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “There are other things too like potions and spells. But the real money maker is letting people talk to their passed loved ones.

“A seance, your shitin’ me.” He out right laughs.

“No not a seance.” You scowl at him for even mentioning that horrible cheap carnival trick. “We both know that those things aren’t even real. The people who conduct seances are fakes and phony’s. They make the rest of us, true practitioners, look just as phony and stupid as they are.”

“Jeez sorry.” He hold up his hands on mock surrender. “Don’t get your panties in a twist”

You roll you eyes at him.“Whatever. Now with me. People call me when they want to have one last word with their deceased loved ones. So I go down to the morgue with them and reanimate their loved one calling the soul back to the body. It only last an hour any more than that and the dead will be in terrible pain. This is usually enough to help the living move on.”

“Sounds like your making decent money.”

The limo comes to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You don’t really want to go though. Your afraid that this might be the last time you ever see him. He makes no move to disentangle himself from you. Valentino takes one last drag of his cigarette before snubbing out in the door ash tray. “I’m taking you out this weekend so be ready when I get here at 8.” How rude, but your happy he’s making an effort to see you again. “Ok.” you say.

He gets off to lets you out and helps you out of the limo. Your about to walk off when he catches your wrist gently pulling you back. You let him hold you against himself. He brings his hand to your chin and tilts it up as he bends to kiss you. He tastes of smoke and ash. The kiss ends just as fast as it started. He lets go of you and you walk to your apartment. He stands there watching you go in only getting back in his limo once you’ve entered your home safely. You watch him leave the parking lot from your window praying time will fly by till the weekend comes.

#hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vizziepop #monster x fem!reader #monster romance #romance #teteraphilia #monster lover #demon x reader #demon x human #valentino x fem!reader #vox x fem!reader #smut writing #writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Just so you’re aware, this takes place during the mid-60s and Lee is a little older than in the movie :) Just so you’re not confused.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You felt alone on campus. 

When you got your acceptance, your parents swore it would be the experience of a lifetime, not to mention the value of education. Always the quiet one, withdrawn and wispy, the thought of moving away from home and living among strangers made you nervous. 

Your first day in the dormitory assured you of your doubts and a semester in, you were still the sore thumb among the six girls in your unit. Your lectures were your sole respite from the pressure to make friends and fit in. You were always early and always intent on the professor.

That was what you were there for after all. If you wanted to hold onto your bursary, you had to maintain your average. You couldn’t be like the other students; you didn’t have rich parents or a trust fund, your degree actually had to mean something.

That night, you walked back from the evening book club meeting alone, as usual. You signed up in hopes you might meet someone like yourself, someone who didn’t just want to drink or smoke. While the members weren’t interested in the party life, they made you feel awful stupid as you struggled to pick up on the same themes in your readings and your sharing skills were never strong. 

When it was your turn to talk about the chapter, you stuttered and muttered until you just gave up. You replayed the disastrous meeting in your head, the used copy of Nabakov under your arm as your bag swung against your side. 

The sky turned a deepening azure as you reached Greek row and heard the muffled crackle of a record player and the buzz of voices from the largest of white houses painted with their respective fraternity colours. It was that new kind of music, the kind that made you want to hop, the kind the Christian club lobbied against on campus green.

As you got further down the street, the late winter crisp crawled up your thick stockings and made you shiver. You got closer to the raucous façade and watched as a couple stumbled out in bubbly conversation and quickly embraced against a pillar of the porch. You kept your head down and focused on the sidewalk.

A flash of blue and the ‘wop’ of a siren brought you to a halt. You stopped just at the corner of the frosty yard, the cloudy breath of the co-eds filling the air as they parted. The cruiser door opened and closed loudly and steady footsteps crossed the street. You watched from the shadows as the officer strode up the walk and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, propping his foot up on the lowest plank.

“You kids are bein’ awfully loud,” his voice carried above the din, he had the local accent that lilted his tone so that even the meanest words were dampened.

“Sorry, officer,” the girl pulled away from the boy and came to the top of the steps, “it’s Friday and we were just having fun--”

“Yeah, yeah,” the cop said as he hooked his thumb on his belt, “y’all know I’m here every week… you turn that racket down or maybe I come in and find something that needs confiscatin’.”

“Got it,” the frat boy said as he stood beside the girl, “I’ll tell Leighton.”

“Ain’t fun for me neither,” the officer slid his foot down to the ground, “I don’t like to ruin you kids’ night.”

“Thank you, officer,” the boy said, “I’m goin’ now.”

“Mhmm, I’ll see you next week then,” the cop scoffed as the boy grabbed the girl and dragged her inside. His voice called through the noise of the crowd for the boy Leighton and the music dulled just enough that it was only a subtle hum, “funny kids.”

The officer turned and chuckled as he reached into his jacket. He paused and his eyes wandered over to you as you stood silently by the edge of the yard. He pulled out a small box and tapped out a toothpick as he smiled at you. He replaced the box in his pocket as he stopped short.

“You headin’ in, girl?” he asked as he placed the toothpick between his lips, “looks like you late for the party.”

“Uh, no, I was just… going home,” you slowly urged yourself forward, “didn’t want to get in your way.”

You tapped towards him in your mary janes as you adjusted the book in your hand. He watched you approach as you kept your head down, just wanting to get past and get on to your dorm.

“Hold up,” he said just as you reached him, “you walkin’ home all alone after dark?”

“My dorm is just… just around the corner,” you said as you stopped and kept your eyes on his shoes, “thank you, officer.”

“Now, I don’t care if it’s just right there, you shouldn’t be alone,” he insisted, “how’s bout a ride, hmm? I gotta make a round of the campus anyway.”

“I can make it on my own…” you began and he tutted, “I mean, thank you, I suppose it’s rude to… um…”

“You’re not from these parts, huh?” he asked, “you got that accent. Real fine.”

“Uh uh,” you uttered, “it’s a nice place though.”

“City is, but the rest of the county...” he remarked, “you must be far from home then.”

“A little,” you shrugged.

“Well,” he rubbed his hands together, “let’s get goin’, it’s cold tonight.”

“Thank you, again,” you slowly followed him as he backed away and turned to cross the street.

“Not at all,” he said warmly as he neared the car and pulled open the back door, “one thing, it’s against policy to let passengers in the front seat.”

“Oh?” you blinked and looked into the cruiser, “I can walk, I--”

“Go on,” he waved you in, “probably comfier back there anyhow.”

You gave a tight-lipped smile and slid into the back seat. You swept your bag up into your lap as the door snapped shut and tucked the book under the flap. The car shifted as he got in the front and he looked at you in the wide rear view mirror.

“Mind my manners, I didn’t even introduce myself, Sheriff Bodecker,” he jingled his keys as he spoke, “and you, honey?”

You hesitated at the added pet name. No one ever called you anything but ‘miss’ or ‘young woman’. You cleared your throat and shifted as you tugged nervously at your scarf as it pressed against your chin. It was damp from your hot breath. You gave him your name and shrank back against the leather.

“This your first year?” he asked as he pulled out and tossed his toothpick out the window.

“Yes, sir,” you answered and you saw his head tilt just slightly as he drove slowly.

“You like it?” he continued.

“It’s… new,” you said stiffly, “I don’t know many people but I… I’m learning a lot.”

“Oh, I hear they teach lots of interesting things these days. Lotta red nonsense,” he sighed, “which way am I goin’, honey?”

“Left, sir, the third building on your right with the orange brick,” you replied.

“No parties to go to?” he snickered as he came up to your dormitory and rolled to a stop.

“I… I’m not much for them, sir,” you said as you tried the handle but the door didn’t budge.

“Sorry, forgot about that,” he got out and opened the door from outside, “there ya go.”

You stepped out and your foot slipped on a patch of thin ice. You caught yourself on the door as he grabbed your arm and helped steady you. You laughed nervously and thanked him.

“Careful there,” he said, “hate for you to mess up that face, honey.”

“I’m alright,” you assured him and carefully drew away from him, “thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s just my job,” he sniffed, “you know, keepin’ the campus safe… when I can.”

“I’m sure you have much more to worry about than some college kids,” you said.

“Eh, you’d be surprised,” he intoned, “I’m around on Fridays, there’s always noise complaints ‘round here.”

You were quiet, unsure what to say or how to detach yourself gracefully. You just wanted to go inside and listen to the radio as you reread the chapter. You smiled nervously and he looked down at you beneath the streetlight.

“I might see you around,” he said, “and don’t mind givin’ ya another ride, ya know? Can’t have you lost in the dark, heh.”

“It’s nice of you, sir, but I’m grown now, I can take care of myself,” you assured him, though you hated how black it got on this side of campus.

“Well, don’t be shy, give me a wave if you see me,” he closed the door as you sidestepped it, “and you have a good night. Get yourself warmed up with some nice tea… though I know you college kids prefer a harder comfort.”

“I don’t drink,” you said awkwardly, “but, uh… good night, officer.”

You went around the back of the car and stepped up onto the curb. You went up to the grated door and fished out your key. You peeked over your shoulder as you unlocked the door and found the Sheriff watching you over the roof of his car. 

His large-brimmed hat shadowed his face and his constant gaze sent a shiver through you, but that could’ve been the nightly chill. You gave a small wave and let yourself in, quickly hiding behind the inner door, happy to be home safe.

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #college au #smol reader

[dovechim]

blessed be the fruit 01 (m)

➾ 3.6k, taehyung x reader, future OT7

➾ loosely based off The Handmaid’s Tale. In the New World Order that is Gilead, your life depends on your ability to bring a new one into existence. 

➾ warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of infertility, pregnancy, mentions of dubcon

➾ a/n: I had serious hesitation and doubts about this. but after a three month break and looking at it from a distance, I still want to go ahead with this AU because I want to draw attention to the themes of reclaiming agency & identity whilst under oppression. So I hope that you could get the message I’m trying to convey rather than focus on the noncon indubitably present in this AU. 

I'm saying this to clearly outline my intentions, for I do not condone rape or non-consensual sex whatsoever. 

that being said, I have plans to turn this into an ot7 series fic, but here is a little starter just to kind of test the waters a little :-) if you’re here, I've already warned you about what you’re signing up for, so please skip this if uncomfortable and refrain from sharing any malicious thoughts with me.

Crimson is the colour that denotes life. But these days, only the rare few have the privilege to don that colour; the deep red hue of the cloak that is meant to simultaneously draw attention to, and also hide your figure.

Handmaids are to be seen and not heard. They are to speak only when spoken to. The white wings that adorn either side of your head keep your gaze lowered reverently at all times. Meek and subdued, but always watching, waiting.

The supermarket is quiet and orderly as you stroll through the aisles with your partner close by your side. You have never seen more than a glimpse of her face, neither have you heard more than a few words of her voice other than the greetings you exchange when you meet every morning.

Even the task of grocery shopping, which you used to enjoy before the rise of Gilead, has become nothing but a sham. There is no decision to be made. Your purchases are entirely dependent on the coupons given to you by the Wife of your Household. Today, it’s the usual rice and vegetables, with one or two oranges thrown in as a request from the Cook.

“Under His Eye,” you murmur as you pass the other Handmaids and their partners, all doing their shopping with their partners.

You can’t see it with your head lowered, but there are armed guards stationed throughout the grocery store with guns cocked and menacing stares. The Eyes are always watching and listening, and you begin to feel suffocated.

“I believe I have everything I need,” you speak in a lowered voice, turning slightly to your partner, thinking of how to best hurry her along without making it too obvious. “Is there anything else you lack?”

“I too, am done, OfJeon,” your partner replies back, and you have to physically stop yourself from flinching.

Even though it is the proper way to address another Handmaid, you avoid using the names bestowed upon you by their Household’s Commanders. You try your best to not associate yourself with that name, for fear that you might come to forget your own in due time, but it gets more and more difficult as the days go by.

‘Of’ denoting possession, and ‘Jeon’ for your Commander’s last name. Put together, they form your identity, the identity that Gilead has carved out for you as an object.

The moment you forget your real name is the moment you lose yourself.

“Let us depart, OfPark,” you say with tightly clenched lips, grateful for the white wings that hide your bitter expression as you turn toward the exit of the grocery store.

Your basket is heavy with groceries, and the wind whips up your red cloak the moment you step outside. You glance up for a moment to see the gray skies, feel the wind on your cheeks before you dip your head down again, cautious of exposing your face for more than a second.

Here, to blend in is to survive.

“Have you made all the necessary preparation, OfJeon?” Your partner asks as she links her arm through yours, and you begin the slow march home.

You drag your feet slightly, hoping to prolong the walk. Aside from the brief half hour of grocery shopping every day, you hardly get a chance to be outside. To remember what the real world feels like, even though it is changing so quickly every day. You’re too busy trying to memorise the way the wind feels against your cloak that you are caught slightly offguard by OfPark’s question.

“Preparation?” Your voice comes out slightly unsure.

“For the Ceremony, of course,” comes her reply, and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling sharply.

Is it already that time of the month? How could you have lost track?

A lump forms in your throat as you attempt to calm yourself. “Yes, OfPark. Everything is ready.”

You are lying through your teeth, but the thing is, interactions are kept to such a bare minimum that no one knows you well enough to know that you are lying. If today is the day of the Ceremony, it means a visit to the doctor’s this afternoon. Your breath speeds up at the thought of it, palms becoming sweaty.

OfPark comes to a stop outside of your house, and unlinks her arm from yours.

“Blessed be the fruit,” she says by way of farewell.

“May the Lord open,” the automatic response falls from your lips without much thinking.

Then the gates open, and you enter the house quietly, setting your basket on the kitchen counter. You can hear footsteps coming from the main hallway as soon as you take your white bonnet off.

“You’re back, I was just about to send a guard to fetch you.” In her royal blue dress that tapers at her waist and falls nearly to her ankles, the Wife of the Household is always neatly pressed and well put together. Kim Yeri fixes you with an annoyed glare as she brushes her silky blonde hair behind her ear. You haven’t known her by that name in a long while, because like any other woman, she is only to be addressed by her title in society.

“Did you forget your appointment?” She demands, crossing her arms. She has never been outrightly mean to you, yet her manner is far from friendly. But its totally understandable, of course. Which woman would be content knowing her husband was required by law to fuck a baby into someone else?

“No, Madam. The line at the supermarket was-“

“Get in the car. We’re already late.” Yeri is not interested in your excuse as she cuts you off, turning to grab her purse, and her dress flows gracefully behind her slim figure as she walks to the door.

You barely have time to put your bonnet back on, fixing it so that it is presentable once more before following her outside. Yeri is already in the back seat of the black SUV car, and you climb in beside her. You catch a glimpse of Driver Jung’s eyes in the mirror, but quickly glance away before Yeri can catch you.

Drivers aren’t allowed to have Handmaids of their own. Instead, they live to serve the Household of their Commanders. As the car pulls smoothly out of the front gate, you begin to wonder who Driver Jung was before Gilead. If he had loved ones that he lost. If he too, was slowly starting to forget the person he was back then.

The blacked-out windows of the car don’t allow you to see anything outside. It is a tense journey made in complete silence as you can feel Yeri’s annoyance slowly mounting into a barely withheld fury. It is the same every month. You try to sympathise with her, to put yourself in her shoes as someone who has to accompany the woman her beloved husband is to have sex with to a fertility check-up.

When the car stops, Driver Jung rushes out of his seat to open the door for Yeri first, then he crosses to your side and opens your door. You thank him with a shy nod, careful to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as you follow Yeri into the clinic.

The waiting room has about one or two other Wife-Handmaid pairs.  As you walk in, you catch the eye of one of the Handmaids who is heavily pregnant. Her swollen belly protrudes from her red cloak, and her hands look so small in comparison as she strokes her bump reverently. The Wife sits beside her, a look of pride on her face as if she were the one pregnant.

It is such a rare sight to see a pregnant Handmaid these days. Even though the Handmaids were specially selected because of their fertility, your lack of a baby bump is bearing down on you. Each Handmaid is given three chances at each assignment. Three chances to conceive before they are moved to the next Commander. Three assignments in total before she is sent to the Wastelands.

Lining the walls are portraits of Commanders dressed in black, and their Wives dressed in blue, holding little bundles wrapped in white. The couples are all smiling with joy and pride in their eyes.

The Handmaids are nowhere to be seen in the happy families of three.

You don’t know if you should envy or pity the heavily pregnant Handmaid.

Thankfully, due to Yeri’s- or should you say your Commander’s- high status, you are bumped to the front of the line. The receptionist tells you to enter the doctor’s room, but Yeri waves you on with disinterest.

“I can wait outside here, can’t I? She won’t dare try anything,” she says this last part with cold frown, settling herself down on one of the waiting chairs.

“Of course, Mrs Jeon,” the receptionist says with a pleasant smile, then turns to show you into the doctor’s office.

You read the name on the door before you are shuffled into the white, sterile room.

Dr Kim Taehyung.

Two female assistants help you to take off your red cloak and dress you in the standard white gown. You sit on the chair, legs spread wide into the stirrups. The assistants lower a privacy curtain that conceals your face, leaving your lower half anonymous as you hear the door open, then the doctor’s footsteps.

You don’t even get to see his face before you feel his touch on your knees. Dr Kim Taehyung clears his throat before he moves to the side, dipping his gloved hands into a small dish of what you can only assume to be lubrication. The white privacy curtain is nothing but a thin sheet, so you can still make out his figure as he bustles about. You can even see the slope of his nose as he turns his side profile to you for a second.

It’s not until he speaks that you are jolted out of your thoughts by how deep his voice is. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you answer hesitantly, unconsciously crinkling your medical gown in your fist. No one has ever asked how you’re doing.

“That’s great, now let’s have a look, shall we?” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you feel your body relax a little.

He seems to be kind enough, this Dr Kim Taehyung. Much different from the doctor you had on your first visit. Dr Kim Taehyung has his bedside manner down pat, and even though you can’t see his face, he makes you feel a little bit less tense. His voice soothes you as he talks, saying random things about the weather as he spreads your legs.

Dr Kim Taehyung positions himself in between your thighs, and you feel his gloved hands dangerously close to the apex of them. “So, it says here on your chart that tonight is Ceremony night for you.”

“Yes,” you swallow hard at the reminder. “It is.”

“And how are the Jeons treating you? Everything okay at home?” You can feel him spread your lips with his fingers, starting to poke and prod around as you close your eyes.

“Yes. They treat me very well,” you answer.

He must have caught the monotony of your voice, because his fingers pause.

“You know, you can talk to me. If there’s anything you need.” His concerned voice is like a beacon of light, but your eyes dart around the room cautiously.

You think about the millions of things that you could tell him. How unfair it is to be reduced to a walking womb, and yet, how desperate you are, knowing that this is your third month at the Jeon’s household, and if it doesn’t work…

You swallow all of these thoughts with your fists clenched. You can never let your guard down. He might be one of the Eyes, pretending to be kind so that you might let slip a blasphemous comment about your Commander. There’s no way you’ll incriminate yourself like that, so you just keep your mouth shut. After a while, he goes back to examining you.

“… Alright then,” Dr Kim Taehyung says in a resigned tone. “Let me just check you over and make sure everything is good for tonight. This might feel a little uncomfortable, but just relax for me alright?”

You can’t help but tense up, ironically, at his instruction. But then you feel the warmth of one of his ungloved hands on your thigh, and as he bids you to relax again, he slides his fingers into you, and you can feel his fingers, thick and solid. Your thighs twitch, coming into contact with his hips that are in between them, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

“It’s okay… just a little more.”

Then, he withdraws his fingers slowly, and you let out a breath of relief. It didn’t feel bad, definitely not like the first visit where you felt violated. Dr Kim Taehyung’s gentle and respectful manner is… almost pleasant. You’ve long forgotten what it’s like to be treated like a human being, and not just an object.

“Looks like everything’s in shape, you’re due to ovulate these few days,” he declares, taking off his rubber gloves and tossing them in the bin. “Not that it matters, anyway. Jeon’s probably sterile. Hell, all of the Commanders are sterile.”

You freeze at the sound of that blasphemous curse word. But more importantly, you have to make sure you heard correctly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You watch his shadow behind the sheet as he ticks a few things on your chart.

In this society, ‘sterile’ is a forbidden word. There is no such thing as a sterile man. There are only women who are fruitful, and women who are barren. But you know better than to subscribe to such damning ideology.

“Darling. I’ve seen so many top Commanders’ Handmaids in this room. In and out, month after month they come back and their Wives ask me why they aren’t pregnant yet.” He places a hand on your knee again, and that human contact makes you realise how much you crave the warmth of another person.

At the same time, his words awaken the hollow desperation in your chest. If… if Jeon is really sterile, that means no matter how many times you try, you won’t get pregnant. If all the Commanders are really sterile, then no matter how many assignments you get…

“It’s your third month here, isn’t it?” His kind voice accompanies the gentle stroke of his thumb on your knee.

Before you can answer, he steps away from you, walking to the door and double checking that it’s locked. Then, he’s between your legs again, and this time, his ungloved hands are caressing the top of your thighs. You can feel his hips pressing against you insistently.

“I can help you,” he says in a low whisper. “It’s your last chance.”

Your mind is in a fog. It’s hard to think clearly when you are craving his touch on your body, and the way in which he wraps your legs around his waist so delicately has you wanting to give in. Let this be a form of rebellion. An act of reclaiming your body and your agency, giving it to a man who treats you like a human being, and more importantly, deciding who you give it to. So that when Jeon performs the Ceremony with you tonight, no one but you will have the secret pleasure of knowing that someone else was here before him.

And if you do get pregnant, you will have the last laugh as you watch Jeon raise a baby that isn’t even his to begin with.

How’s that for rebelling? It’s no longer just about getting pregnant.

“I’ve helped many other Handmaids before,” Dr Kim Taehyung continues furtively. “They were all on their third Assignments. I saved them from the Wastelands.”

You don’t need any more convincing. You reach out and pull the thin privacy sheet aside, finally revealing Dr Kim Taehyung’s face. He looks taken aback at your bold actions.

“Do it, Doctor,” you fix your eyes on him with determination. “Get me pregnant.”

Dr Kim Taehyung looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to say yes to him, and delight slowly spreads across his face. But he can’t help himself from bringing one of his hands to your face, brushing your cheek and admiring your silent, resilient beauty.

“U-um, okay. He-here goes,” he fumbles with his dress pants, and the confidence from minutes ago is nowhere to be found. It occurs to you that he might have been fibbing about helping the other Handmaids before you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s no longer just about getting pregnant, anyway.

Thanks to the lubrication, he slides in easily. You catch a glimpse of him before he does, and a second later you feel his girth acutely. During the Ceremony, the lights are always turned off, so you never have a chance to see what Jeon’s dick looks like. If you were to compare, it feels around the same as Dr Kim’s. Except this time, you are doing this of your own accord.

The squeaking of the chair against the floor is deafeningly loud as he begins to thrust earnestly, and the thrill that you could be caught at any moment makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been since the rise of Gilead. You can feel him at your cervix as he grips your thighs, and you make sure to wrap them around him tightly.

In an unprecedented move, Dr Kim reaches down to brush his thumb against your clit, and your walls clench around him in response. He swears under his breath as he shifts his position to rest his elbows on either side of you so that he can increase the strength behind his thrusts.

“Sh-shit, you feel so good,” he groans as he sneaks his hand in between your bodies once more to pinch your clit. No one has cared about your pleasure like this in a long while, and you feel your body responding to his ministrations, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Ha-harder, Doctor,” you feel his cheek press against your breast. “Cum inside me.”

You swear you can feel him twitch inside you, as he bites his lip hard. You have a hard time holding back your derisive laughter as Dr Kim Taehyung gets more turned on than ever. So this is his kink? This is the perfect job for him. Seeing Handmaids who are more often than not desperate to get pregnant, no matter by whom.

You feel a modicum of power back in the palm of your hand, which is more than you’ve felt in ages. The feeling of having power over someone else as you watch the pleasure take over Dr Kim Taehyung’s expression is addictive. The man is losing himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. Meanwhile you are the one watching him rut pathetically, straining to reach his end.

“Cum inside me, Doctor,” you say again, squeezing your walls around him and relishing his groan. “I’ll make you cum inside me.”

“Pl-please, call me Taehyung,” he pleads, raising himself up on his elbows to beg for a kiss.

You oblige, watching his desperation slowly take over his entire being. His lips are soft as he kisses you like a man starved, and you wonder who was the last person he kissed like this. Does he kiss all of the Handmaids he impregnates?

The next words you say are perfectly calculated. “Taehyung, I want your baby.”

There’s no reaction other than his hands clenching into tight fists, and his breathing getting harsher and harsher as his cock slams deep into you, and you clench around him one more time, only to feel him fill you up with his cum. The seed that you need to get pregnant and save your own life.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still twitching inside you, and you can still feel the cum threaten to leak out. Dr Kim Taehyung lets out a long sigh of contentment as he expertly tilts the chair so that your hips are slightly raised.

When he’s satisfied, he slowly pulls out, eyes glued to the mess in between your legs. Only a little bit of cum is dripping out, and he reaches for a tissue to clean it up. The way he’s looking at you, a little bit too fondly, makes you realise that this is getting a bit too personal for your liking.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you remind him, and the phrase is like magic. You are all reminded of your roles in this society, and the forbidden act which you have both committed.

Dr Kim Taehyung seems to sober up when he hears this, as he tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to straighten his doctor’s coat.

“May the Lord open. You should… um. Stay here for the next ten to fifteen minutes. The nurses will be in to help you get dressed shortly,” he clears his throat as he lets the privacy curtain fall back into place. “And um… good luck.”

He leaves the room hurriedly, and you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs together and feeling the warmth that his cum leaves behind, feeling like your body is finally yours again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the nurses come in and help you get dressed, and when you walk out of the room, Yeri makes a pointed remark about how long she had to wait. You follow her without a word to the car, waiting as Driver Jung opens the door for her, then you.

All the while, a secret smile upon your lips as you feel the cum from earlier drip down your inner thigh.

#bts #bts smut #future ot7 #bts kim taehyung #bts kim taehyung smut

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White Part 13

[see all chapters]

read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

General Warning: From this point on this fic is going to deal with reoccurring themes that may be triggering to some. Please check out the ao3 tags if you’re unsure.

---

Muffled voices pulled him from the comfort of unconsciousness, shaking his mind awake despite his feeble attempts to brush them off. For a moment, he thought about trying to tell the voices to keep it down, but that would have been too much effort, and he was so comfortable in this blanket and pillow…

…

…

...the voices rose in volume, this time gaining clarity, shape. Almost words. Close, but not quite. Not yet. Danny wasn’t ready. Five more minutes, he was so tired…

“...Danny…”

Wait.

What was that?

His eyes fluttered open, and he immediately took stock of his unfamiliar surroundings. He was...not in his bedroom. He was in his living room, on the couch where he must have fallen asleep after his almost mental breakdown over a glass of water.

How embarrassing. Danny hoped that no one spotted the water glass on the rug. Or, if they had, they hadn’t thought anything about it. Hadn’t figured out that it was on the floor because Danny tried to get water from the sink without using his wheelchair.

Maybe they wouldn’t connect the dots. Honestly, the thought of seeing that pitying expression on their faces as they watched him fail to do a stupidly simple task made him want to fall into a coma.

Oh well. He was awake now. Might as well go get something to eat to make his family and therapists proud.

Just as he was about to toss the blanket off his body, Jazz’s quiet voice sounded from the kitchen. “You can’t keep the truth from him forever.”

“We can, at least for now,” his dad said.

“It’s not going to work.”

Danny froze, the last of his fatigue zapped from his brain.

What truth? What were they talking about? What was going on in there?

He debated standing up and announcing his presence, but the blossoming sense of dread in his gut kept him still.

Whatever was going on, he had a sinking feeling that it was about him.

His mother spoke up. “We have to. It’s for his own safety.”

“It’s wrong,” Jazz countered. “It’s wrong to keep secrets like this.”

“I know, Jazz. But if we told Danny, he…”

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

Tell him what? 

“Jazz, you have to understand. With Danny in the position that he’s in right now, there are just certain limitations that we need in this house in order to stay on top of his recovery,” Jack explained.

“But cutting him off from his core?”

It was as if he were punched in the gut. He clenched the blanket, balling the edges in his fists. His instincts were screaming at him to jump up and demand the truth, but he buried that part of him back down inside his mind.

They would never tell him. They didn’t trust him enough. He wasn’t human enough.

But they always trusted Jazz. They favored her. She was the ideal child with her perfect grades, perfect ambitions, perfect brain.

Even if they wouldn’t tell him, of course they would tell her. 

“We have to do it, honey. We have no choice,” Maddie said.

“You see how he’s reacting to this though, right? He’s not himself.”

“We know, but it’s what needs to be done. He can’t be given access to his core, not right now.”

Why though, Dad? Tell me why...

“This is cruel,” Jazz said.

There was a brief pause, each second like a knife in Danny’s chest. He wanted so badly to snap, but he forced himself to stay still. To stay silent.

To listen.

There was a sigh, and Maddie broke the silence. “You have no idea how much it hurts us to see him like this. We know it isn’t right to keep a ghost from its core but...at the school that day. Jazz, I’ve never seen him like that. And it terrified me.”

Danny felt his blood drain from his face. His body turned ice cold.

He knew what they were talking about, and he assumed that that day was a distant memory in the past, something that would never be talked about again. And yet, here his parents were, digging up the most humiliating moment in Danny’s life, throwing it at his face like a weapon of why he couldn’t possibly be allowed his ghost half, why he needed to be shut off from himself.

“He’s come a long way since then.”

“Not long enough.”

They didn’t know. They didn’t understand what it was like. They weren’t there, they weren’t the ones who were cut open, who were beaten, who spent all day in and out looking at white walls, white floors, white suits, white ceilings, white equipment.

He hadn’t been himself that day at the school. He’d just come home from the hospital, he was coming off of a cocktail of heavy pain medication, he was physically exhausted from the PT and mentally exhausted from everything else. 

Okay, so he snapped in the locker room. He’d been pushed back into school, pushed into being around people, pushed into acting normal, like nothing was wrong, and the world was warping around him and he just fell apart. He freaked out, he broke a mirror, Dash and Kwan found him, and he paid the consequences for it.

“I don’t think he’d do that again.”

“You don’t know that, Jazz.”

“But his Obsession—”

“It’s protection. Phantom will make him do whatever it can in order to protect itself. Even if that means…”

It. 

The word echoed in Danny’s head.

You’re an it.

Something inside him cracked.

His vision glazed over, and suddenly the two students in Casper he’d hoped to never cross paths with again were standing over him, approaching cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal.

“Give me the glass, Danny,” Dash had said. “You don’t need it. Just give it to me, I’ll hang onto it for you. I’ll keep it safe.”

He looked down, and blood trickled through his fingers, splattering onto the white tile.

It was red. Why was it red?

Crack.

Maddie’s voice faded back into his consciousness. “We just can’t risk it.”

“So what, your genius idea is to keep lying to him about why you won’t take the chip out? Feed him some bullshit excuse about the lab? Danny’s a human but he’s also a ghost! You can’t keep him from his core and expect him to turn out okay!”

“We know that.”

“No, you clearly don’t!”

“Keep your voice down, hun. He’s asleep.”

“Then stop lying to him. Tell him the real reason why you won’t give him Phantom back.”

Danny couldn’t breathe.

His parents. The people who had gone to court for him, who fought so hard to get him home, who assured him that they’d go to the moon and back if it meant keeping him safe. 

He trusted them.

And they...they just…

Crack.

“You know we can’t do that,” his father said. “You said it yourself, Danny’s just as much human as he is ghost. Ghosts don’t have the capacity to think rationally about something like that.”

They just…

“Kwan, get Lancer.”

He didn’t understand. Why were those two here?

“Please, give me the mirror, Danny.”

No, they didn’t get it. He needed this. This was the only thing he could do, it was the only way out. He couldn’t let Operative O take his body again.

“Danny...”

They were afraid, he realized. They thought he was going to hurt them. He was a rabid animal, wasn’t he? And they thought he would attack them?

Another drop of blood splashed onto the tile.

Crack.

Jazz scoffed. “I cannot believe you would just—”

“He’s fragile, Jazz!” Maddie protested. “Whatever happened in the government facility changed him. He’s not the same boy he used to be, something inside him is fundamentally different now. Frankly, we have no idea how that has affected his Obsession.”

His head spun.

They lied to him.

“What, so the better option is to just cut him off from his core altogether and force him to play human all day? Great plan, Mom.”

“If that’s what we need to do to keep him safe, then yes, that is the better option.”

The mirror shattered, the pieces raining down, echoing as they bounced against the tiles. He watched with unfocused eyes as everything around him crumbled.

His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the arguing voices in the kitchen. He fell to the floor and clutched a broken shard. 

He needed...he needed to...

Protect.

Danny saw red. 

His lips moved before he could stop them. “I thought you’d accepted me.”

The argument from the kitchen came to a screeching halt. 

“Danny! I didn’t—”

“No!” Danny pushed himself to a seated position. 

They kept him from his core on purpose. 

His parents, after all those painstaking hours in family therapy, all that talk about how they were a team and how they needed to work together, had lied to him.

They weren’t a team. They had never been a team. Danny was just…

He was just a ghost to them.

An irrational, stupid, ectoplasmic creature. 

They scrambled from the kitchen, moving into the living room with fear strewn across their faces. 

They hate ghosts. You know this, Fenturd. They hate you.

“We do accept you, Danno. We love you.”

They didn’t love him.

“We were just trying to protect you. Please understand, Danny,” Maddie begged.

They’re scared of you. They don’t know what it means to protect. They’re lying.

“Danny, you need to understand—”

“SHUT UP!” Danny gripped his hair with his hands, covering his ears to quiet the hurricane of emotions devastating his mind. “Shut up, shut up!” 

He didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or cry. After all this talk, his parents had never accepted him as a ghost at all.

“I’m so sorry, son,” Jack said.

“I can’t—I can’t!” Danny spat out. He had a thousand different responses swirling through his brain, so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His brain wasn’t working, his voice wasn’t working, and everything he saw was painted in blood.

They lied to him.

“I—you—”

“Danny, you need to breathe,” Jazz said, but Danny could recognize that tone. That was the same voice she used when trying to calm down the neighbor’s hyperactive dog that had a bad habit of finding ways out of its fence.

Danny ripped his head out of his arms, swiveling up to meet the concerned gazes of his family. “Shut up! I’m not a fucking dog!”

“Danny, I never—”

“Stop treating me like a fucking animal! I’m not—I’m not!” Danny attempted to grip the coffee table to push himself up, but he only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. He cursed and blinked away the mist that clouded his vision because he was not crying right now. His parents did not get to see that.

Maddie jumped forward. “Careful!”

“No, shut the fuck up!” Danny yelled. “You don’t get to—to be concerned! You don’t get that!”

Maddie stepped back, looking as if someone slapped her across the face.

“Danny, please, calm down,” Jack tried.

If anything, the red lining in his vision only deepened. “No! I won’t, and you don’t—don’t—ah!” Danny hit his forehead with his hand, frustration clawing at his throat.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he physically couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t talk, he could only sit here drowning in rage.

His body was betraying him.

His parents could fix this right now if they wanted to. They could take him down to the lab, remove the chip, give Danny any semblance of freedom back. They could do that.

But they stood there doing nothing. 

They like you like this. Helpless. Grounded. Easy to control.

“You lied to me! You knew—you fucking—my core isn’t even damaged, is it?”

Jack wrapped his arm around Maddie, who hadn’t even bothered to wipe away the tears that had spilled on her cheeks.

Because of him.

They hate you. 

“Is it?” Danny pressed, but he didn’t need a response. He knew the answer. He knew the truth.

It was written all over his parents' faces.

“Was my core ever damaged? At all?”

“It was, but—”

Danny shook his head in disbelief. “Cores are self-re—self-regenerating. I—I knew that. I knew that! It—it was healed before I left the hospital, right?”

His parents refused to meet his eyes.

“You lied to me. All this time, and—and you...you just…” Danny tried to stand up again, but failed. “I’m so fucking sick of this!”

“Danny, please understand. We only did it because we needed to protect you.”

“Protect me?” He let out a sardonic laugh. “You thought—you seriously thought you were—you were fucking protecting me? Do you not...even see? I can’t—I can’t even fucking stand up! I can’t stand! I can’t do anything! And you thought you were protecting me? Are you serious?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “Danny, do you not realize how close we were to losing you? And I don’t mean to the government. You blasted a school mirror and then tried to use one of the pieces to kill yourself! I mean, come on, son!”

Danny lurched back, stunned. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“Then what were you trying to do, huh?” Jack shouted back. “Because not even a few hours after we dropped you off back at school, we get a call from Mr. Lancer saying a few students found you in the locker room threatening suicide because you thought you were back with the government! What do you expect us to think, Danny? We’re your parents.”

“Shut up!” Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashes of memory that threatened to surface.

“Jack—”

“No, Maddie—”

They hate you. 

His throat burned. “Shut up!” 

It wasn’t fair. His parents weren’t being fair. That incident—that was a fluke. An anomaly. And yet they were punishing Danny for something that happened weeks ago, before he went through the painstaking ordeal of inpatient and psychiatry and the PHP and the whole other host of therapies he’d been forced into.

“What was the point in sending me to—to inpatient then? If you were just going to keep treating me like a stupid animal?”

“Danny, we’re not treating you like an animal.”

“You sure as hell got me caged up like one!”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way!”

“Jack, honey—”

“Everyone, please calm down!”

“Stay out of this, Jazz!”

“Danny, I think—”

“I don’t care what you think!”

“Guys—”

“I NEED MY CORE!” Danny screamed, the sob finally tearing its way out of his throat.

His family fell into a deafening silence, and Danny could feel their stares as ugly sobs overtook him, ripping down any semblance of an emotional wall he’d managed to construct over these weeks.

His tears boiled on his skin, and he dug his hands in his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it didn’t matter, his body shook uncontrollably, his emotions burning through his throat leaving him gasping for air.

All while his parents stood there ten feet away from him. Frozen, unwilling to approach. Because he was a halfa, a monster, broken, unstable, trapped, feared. He was the demon that parents warned their children about, the thing that his parents had dedicated their careers to developing weapons against, a creature so dangerous that the government had funded an entire group to research and exterminate.

And up until two months ago, it was legal for him to be vivisected, to be experimented on, to be tortured to the point of paralysis.

He rocked back and forth, struggling to piece himself back together. And when he could make it through a shuddering breath without breaking down again, all he could do was croak out, “Why…”

His parents remained unmoving, faces pale, arms by their sides. Tears streaked his mother’s and sister’s cheeks, and his father’s unblinking gaze bore down on him.

But their silence wasn’t good enough, their sorrow and tears weren’t good enough. An invisible wall was growing between them with each passing second and they couldn’t even see it.

They know. They’re doing it on purpose. They don’t care about you.

“Why?” Danny insisted. “How could—how could you...how could you do this to me? I’m...I just…”

“We had to, son,” his father said. The moonlight cast a shadow over his face. “It was for your own safety.”

No. Danny was done with the lies. Done with the excuses. 

He was done.

Flaring his eyes, he bit back, “My safety, or yours?” 

His parents flinched, and Danny couldn’t find himself to care. They’d lied to him, they’d dug their hole, so now they had to live in it.

“Danny, please…” Jazz stepped forward. “Don’t do this.”

“No! You—don’t you get it?” Danny pleaded. “I can’t—Mom, Dad, I feel like a prisoner. I’m trapped in my body. I can’t—I can’t live like this anymore! I can’t fucking do it! You have no idea...and you don’t even care!”

“Of course we care, Danno.”

“Then why? Tell me the truth! Please, tell me why because—” His voice broke, and his head fell back into his hands. “Please...tell me why…”

Jack sighed. “It was just the decision we felt we needed to make. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t something we did because we wanted to hurt you. We love you, son. And we just wanted to know that you were safe.”

“We love you so much, sweetie.”

But they were blind because he wasn’t safe. And he was never going to be safe again. There would always be someone out there who had power over him, who wanted to control and erase him.

If they loved you, they would have listened.

They’re scared of you.

He glanced up to see Jack putting his arm around Maddie, pulling her in close. Jazz stood behind them, allowing their shadows to overtake her body.

Jazz said something, but Danny wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He was trapped and completely alone. There would be no protests, no online petitions, and no jury on his side. No one to rescue him.

“Then give it—give me my core back.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m sorry son. We’ve made our decision.”

“I’ll find a way,” Danny insisted. “I know some ghosts. I’ll get them to—to take it out. You can’t...you—you can’t stop me.”

“Danny, I don’t think even Frostbite could—”

“You don’t know that, Jazz! He could—he could do it. He would figure it out if I asked.” 

His parents exchanged a look, one reminiscent of the exasperation when Danny would tell them that the detention hadn’t been his fault, that he did try to do the homework assignment, that he would try harder next time.

They didn’t believe him.

“He’ll do it,” he reiterated. 

“Danny, we’re not going to let any ghosts near you right now.”

“Like that ever worked before,” he retorted.

There was a pregnant pause, and Danny looked away. He felt nauseous, and anxiety speared through his chest.

“Please, I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t…” 

He knew how desperate he sounded, but for once he didn’t care. His parents were going to kill him by keeping his core locked up. 

Right now it was about self-preservation. If he couldn’t protect himself, it was over.

“Graduate from the PHP program first,” Maddie finally said. “Once you’re back in school, then we can talk, alright? We’ll talk about...about removing the chip.”

Danny whipped his head up, his eyes searching for any signs that she was lying, that she was going to pull the rug out from under him again.

But her face betrayed nothing.

“Graduate?” Danny breathed. “I just have to...graduate?”

“Yes. Show us that you’re okay enough to go back to school, and you can have your ghost half back.”

“I…” He tugged at his hair. “But that’s...that’s weeks…’

Maddie crossed her arms. “Those are my terms.”

Time slowed, and the distance between them only seemed to grow. He knew he was already behind leaving the PHP center that he was almost certain there was talk of shoving him back into inpatient.

But they didn’t get it. It wasn’t his fault, it was the government stalking him. It was Vlad. He had no choice, and he would never be able to graduate PHP. Not without his core.

“I—but—but, Mom. I need—”

“Son,” his dad said sharply. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but you’re not in a place where we can trust you right now. This is our compromise. Show us we can trust you, and you can have your freedom back.”

His eyes stung, and his throat was starting to squeeze shut.

No…

“Do we have a deal?”

This was impossible.

Even if Frostbite had a way of removing the chip, Danny had no way of finding him. Not without Clockwork’s interference, who didn’t seem to have any interest in contacting Danny as of late. 

The thought of Clockwork left a sour taste in Danny’s mouth. He hadn’t thought of the ancient ghost since his nights in the government compound, his body splayed out like a rag doll, shivering from shock. He remembered staring into the pitch black abyss around him begging for Clockwork to come help him.

But his calls were never answered.

Danny knew Clockwork could have freed him whenever he wanted, government ghost shields be damned. But he didn’t. And that made him just as guilty as everyone else.

And now Danny was alone, bound by his human physiology and his ghost hunter parents.

He had no choice.

“Okay. It’s—it’s a deal.”

---

His body was cold, dead, with waves of trembling coming in and out in spurts. Every breath hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the burning in his chest, the soreness in his throat, or the way the alien warmth in his core seemed more overbearing than ever. 

He could feel it, the hand reaching between his ribs, gripping his core with its warm, gloved fingers. It was revolting, violating, how the hands invaded his body, tearing off his skin and ribs as if he were nothing but a rotting carcass.

He felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He put a hand on his chest, crinkling his shirt in his fist. It was his core, he needed to protect it. 

But he was useless. Nothing. He was at the mercy of his parents who were all but holding a loaded gun to his head while telling him to trust them. Who lied to him that they accepted him, that they were there for him. 

That they loved him.

He was stupid, so stupid. After all the months of hearing them enthusiastically discuss the ways they’d love to rip him apart, what made him think they’d love him just like that? 

Their acceptance was conditional, and their conditions were impossible for him to meet. How the hell did they expect him to graduate from PHP and reenter society like a normal person while they were drowning his core like this? Did they not see how badly he was suffocating? How much he was screaming, thrashing in the ocean for air, desperately trying to fight the undertow pulling him further and further away from his sanity?

He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to fail, he was going to drown. He couldn’t do this.

But there’s one way, a small voice in his head whispered. You’ve done it before and you were fine. It helped you.

His eyes trailed over to his nightstand with his old model rocket sitting proudly on top. He had never flushed the oxycodone. 

Maybe…maybe…

It can help you again.

He just needed to graduate the PHP program and he would get his core back and then everything would be okay. He could work on his problems the right way later. The way he was supposed to be doing it, that he couldn’t do right now because he was still missing half of himself.

Two weeks. That was all he needed. Just two weeks worth of medication, and then he’d be on his way.

You need this.

He pushed himself up as if he were a puppet on strings. Everything was bleak, gray-washed and oppressive. Nausea rolled over him in waves and a hand gripped his throat, pulling the oxygen from his body.

The nightstand glowed in the moonlight, and like a moth Danny felt himself drawn closer to it. Tunnel vision took over, and the world morphed into a series of photos in a time lapse. Snapshot after snapshot flickered past his eyes until a hand—his hand—was pulling the drawer open to reveal an orange bottle inside.

You’re ready.

He couldn’t live like this anymore.

The fear, the anxiety, his core. It was all so much easier before, back in the hospital. Back when the only thing he had to worry about was what constellation he was going to draw that day. Back before he had to face the public, his family, or Vlad. Back before he knew that the government had his phone tapped and was watching his every move.

Back before he knew that his freedom was only temporary.

He was a sitting duck, a kid trapped in no man’s land with no weapon, no armor, nothing to keep him alive.

“Two weeks,” he whispered. Two weeks and then he would be okay. He would graduate from PHP, he would get to go back to school, he would become a regular person again. He just needed to get there first.

He opened the bottle and shook out a small white pill into the palm of his hand.

Two weeks.

Tilting his head back, he tossed the pill into his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.

There. 

It was done.

---

Thank you @imekitty for beta-ing the fic as well as helping me organize my plot better!

Thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

#danny phantom #everything was white #chapter 13 #breakdown #EWW #my writing #phicc

[zigtheeortega]

incomparable

pairing | logan x mc

word count | 7.4k

warnings | there’s a lot of angst in this one, and it’s definitely an emotional hurt/comfort fic! if you don’t like the idea of logan trying to move on, then this one isn’t for you!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @dionneserrano, @blainehayes, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | a while ago, my sweet friend and fellow mod @/pixeljazzy suggested a fic plot that’s angsty and absolutely demonic, aka logan tries to move on, so i decided to write it! i’d been working on this before the mods decided to create the time capsule challenge, so i’m very content that this fits into the theme well !!! and to clarify, this is an au where my mc raquel writes down her experience with the mpc and ends up publishing it and unintentionally becomes a best selling author! also yes rodaw brought me out of my choices writing break and i’m not mad at it at all

•─────────────────•

She wasn’t Raquel.

That much was obvious – she was taller. Her shoulders were broader. Her hair was short, bluntly cut at her collarbones, and dark brown.

She was tattoo free. The skin of her arm was bare – a clean slate. Untouched.

She seemed more innocent, too. Not in the way that Raquel was when they first met.

This woman was grown with a full time job and a comfy apartment in the heart of the city, but… there was something missing.

She probably had no clue that there was a seedy underbelly to her home. Didn’t have the misfortune of crossing paths with someone like him when he was at his worst.

She was privileged enough to go about her life while a whole microcosm of crime happened right under her nose. And she didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know.

Logan wasn’t exactly jazzed to shatter another woman’s innocence the way he did with Raquel.

This girl seemed… safe. Level headed, secure, and millions of miles away from the life he’d abandoned.

It kind of happened by accident. Meeting her, that is.

It wasn’t a carefully crafted “accident” like with Raquel. She actually just… caught his eye.

He’d gotten an honest job as a mechanic on the outskirts of L.A., working mostly with the struggling working class that had long been banished to the dingiest corners, despite being the most important cogs in the city’s machine.

The autoshop was family owned, and had been for generations – the owner, Nicandro, had accepted Logan as his own, and Logan had practically become a part of the Alvarez family.

He hadn’t anticipated finding his own home in the same city that’d chewed him up and spat him out time and time again.

A couple months into working there, he was finally settling into his routine. Nine-to-five job on weekdays, community college classes on weekends, and the occasional Saturday mass when he was invited by the Alvarezes.

He was functioning. He had a routine. And then this girl came in and disrupted it all.

The Honda Civic girl.

When the average looking car pulled up outside, he didn’t give it a second glance.

He went back to work, arms deep in the engine, grimy and stained from repairing Miss Anita’s ancient artifact she insisted on saving even though it was less than a thousand miles away from crumbling cartoon-style till only the wheels were left.

(But she was family to the Alvarezes, so Nicandro insisted on repairing the car for free nearly every week when she needed something new tweaked.)

He heard her voice from across the room and still didn’t look up from his hands.

“Hi, this is embarrassing, but my engine light thingy came on and I have no clue what it means,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m on my way out of town for a couple of days, so I thought I’d stop and get it checked out before you closed for the night.”

“Aye, Lo, can you help her out real quick? We’ve gotta truck coming in with parts soon and I gotta keep watch,” Nicandro called across the garage, shooting Logan a toothy grin as soon as he looked up.

“Sure,” Logan smiled politely, scrubbing his forearm over his brow, the sweat managing to hold a couple strands of his hair captive against his skin.

He was assuming it’d be a typical oil change, but the second she came into view, the ghost of the last time he left L.A. gripped his heart and squeezed until adrenaline shot through every vein in his body.

Her t-shirt, tucked neatly into her denim shorts, read “Langston”.

It wasn’t the sweatshirt, but it was the same design, same color.

He knew staying in L.A. was a gamble, but he was willing to risk it. Staying away from Raquel was priority for her safety, but… he couldn’t bury the inkling of hope that pushed its way to the surface when he walked into a coffee shop or a bookstore – places he knew she’d love.

Once he saw the shirt and her big brown eyes, he was done for.

She wasn’t Raquel, but something about her lived in this stranger.

Before he could stop himself, he was comparing her to his first love – a disaster waiting to happen.

Their first date was anything but – she insisted on bringing him a vanilla milkshake from his favorite burger place to his work.

“How’d you know I was working?” He asked earnestly, mirroring her soft smile.

“I didn’t. Nicandro told me vanilla milkshakes were your favorite and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise so…” she shrugged, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve, uh, brought milkshakes up here every day this weekend.”

He laughed – a real genuine surprised laugh – and took a sip from the styrofoam cup. “You didn’t let them go to waste, did you?”

“Nah, Nicandro’s been really happy with me.”

“Yum,” he hummed. “I’m happy with you, too.”

She grinned in delight, taking a sip from hers. “I’m glad my hard work paid off.”

She stayed there for his whole lunch break, and they chatted, casual conversation with no substance, and he actually enjoyed himself.

The last time he remembered having casual conversations about nothing with a girl his age, he was curled underneath the sheets with Raquel, tracing the outlines of her sleeve of tattoos. He could’ve listened to her talk for hours.

This girl… she was pretty tolerable – she listened to him (hung on every word, even) and cared about what he had to say, even though it was a laid back, low stakes conversation.

“My name’s Renée, you know. I realized I haven’t told you,” she smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. She was facing him, and they were seated on the same side of the old wooden table out back behind the garage.

“Renée,” he repeated, shaking the styrofoam cup to gather the last bit of milkshake at the bottom before tipping it back to lap it up. “I’m Logan.”

“Logan,” she nodded. “It suits you.”

“S’not my real name,” he shrugged.

He didn’t know why he was telling her that. If he told her too much, it’d end the same.

She tipped her own cup back, tapping the bottom to get little stray ice chunks out. “Fine by me. I still think it suits you.”

She was way too trustworthy of a man she didn’t know, but… wasn’t that what attracted him to Raquel in the first place?

Without a shred of judgement in her eyes, Raquel took everything Logan said as the truth, despite how many times he’d fucked up. Betrayed her.

Renée didn’t look at him like he was a criminal and… well… he wasn’t one anymore. He was still in the criminal mindset, though, since he’d been ostracized for so damn long.

The next couple weeks were uncomfortable – not because Renée made him uncomfortable in the slightest. If anything, she was doing the opposite, and that was the problem.

He’d had to reopen himself to caring about another woman, and to say it was a difficult task was an understatement. The gates were stubborn, rusted shut, so much so that he had to force them apart, ignoring the grating screech of metal and the inevitable pain that came with being vulnerable again.

They went on a few dinner dates. She brought him lunch at work. She invited him to her apartment. They went to a food truck festival together.

Renée disrupted his routine, and it was a breath of fresh air.

He’d gotten so comfortable with his quaint life and his work family that he hadn’t pushed himself to do much more than that.

But the first time she held his hand, he froze.

She casually grabbed his hand to lead him through a crowd and his body reacted like he’d been electrocuted. It wasn’t wrong, but it felt wrong.

“Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, wiping his clammy palm against his jeans before letting her grab his hand again.

It wasn’t wrong, but it was wrong.

He should’ve ended it that moment, but he didn’t. He’d convinced himself that if he could push through the initial weirdness of it all, he’d be happy. Eventually.

So he went through the motions with her, trying his hardest to push his comparisons of her to Raquel to the back of his mind, but every so often it’d bubble to the surface.

It’d manifest in the most random ways.

She liked Coke icees, not cherry.

Oh we watched that rom-com together, and she hated it because it was too corny.

She likes that TV show as background noise because she thinks it’s dumb, and I do, too.

It was unhealthy to think of Raquel that much – to compare Renée to her that much – but he couldn’t help it.

The last time he was happy, safe, loved, was with Raquel. He hadn’t chased that feeling for a long time (because he wasn’t sure he could find it again), but with Renée he was getting closer to what he used to have.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted that warmth – that comfort – again.

She wasn’t Raquel, but she’d have to do.

A month into their casual dating, Renée kissed him. Well, she tried.

She’d insisted on driving him to a boujee rooftop bar near her place and was thoroughly buzzed off a couple of cosmopolitans less than an hour into them being there.

The party was in full swing around them, the corny ass cover band on their fourth “tribute” to Billy Joel.

He was out of his element to say the least. 

Just as he was about to lean over to tell her he needed to use the bathroom, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her mouth against his, planting sloppy, sugary, open mouthed kisses on his parted lips, frozen in shock.

“Logan,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter, not even registering how tense he was.

“Renée… hey, hey,” he said, gently but firmly pulling her away from him. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Her big brown eyes welled up with tears and his chest twinged with guilt, the distant memory of the first time he’d betrayed Raquel floating around the back of his brain.

“I’m sorry I – I don’t know what came over me –” she turned away from him, dabbing her eyes with the crook of her finger.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize,” he reassured her, rubbing his palm in small circles on her back. “We’re good.”

“I wanted our first kiss to be special and I royally screwed that up,” she sighed, swivelling back till she was facing him again.

“Can’t do worse than me.”

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“I was a girl’s first kiss… five minutes after we’d outrun the cops.”

Her laugh was a surprised one, her bright smile replacing her disappointed expression almost immediately.

“That’s surprising. I never pegged you as a law breaking type,” she blinked, the alcohol clearly making her a bit more ballsy than she normally was.

It was his turn to laugh – he doubled over, nearly knocking over her half empty glass in the process.

“I used to be quite a troublemaker.”

Despite her not-so-subtle hints over the next few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her.

She probably thought he was the prudiest of the prudes, the local catholic church’s golden boy,  the working man’s poster child of abstinence till marriage.

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet.

He was wearing himself down more and more each day – he was on the track to kiss her in… a couple months to a year. Probably.

Two months in, she invited him to a swanky event her job was hosting.

She was one of many accountants working in the financial department for a large publishing company. She had a really cool gig, and she knew it. She never bragged, but she was proud of her accomplishments. 

So why was she dating a mechanic who was making a third of her income? He had no idea.

Either way, he tried to enjoy himself. The car that picked them up was luxurious, and that and the food and booze reflected just how much money their company had made that year.

The venue was huge and packed to the brim with hundreds of people, the standing tables a couple feet apart all throughout the ballroom.

“Damn, they weren’t playing around with this, huh?” He mused, taking a sip from his mug, filled to the brim with locally brewed beer.

“Yep, they’re serious about giving a warm welcome to new authors,” Renée said over the rim of her drink, gesturing vaguely to the room around them.

“Yeah, so is that what they’re doing?”

“Mhmm. Every year we hold a big party to celebrate our deals for that year. It’s really just to pat ourselves on the back and give our new authors a sense of comfort here, you know?”

“Can I get a booklist or something? I might wanna check out some of these books afterwards. I feel guilty as hell eating duck, drinking their expensive ass alcohol, and rolling back home without, ya know, doing anything,” he shrugged, the fabric of his hand me down suit straining with effort at the motion.

“One of the authors insisted on not being included in any of the party promos so… she kinda ruined it for everybody. But she’s our number one best seller for this year, so…” she rolled her eyes, tipping back the last of her cosmo.

“And don’t worry about it. We budgeted for this and we’re good,” Renée nodded, giving Logan’s hand a squeeze over the table.

“So what’s the itinerary for the night?” Logan asked, rolling his mug around by its base, the beer swirling around the edges, just barely kissing the rim, but not quite overflowing.

It was stupid to relate to a fucking mug of beer, but he did.

Anytime he pushed himself to his limit with Renée, he retreated, never breaking past that threshold, that barrier he set in place for himself long before he’d ever met her.

“The President is gonna give some speech – he’s that guy right there –” she said, scooting around the table till her arm was pressed against the sleeve of his jacket, “Then the Vice President – that woman – is gonna introduce the guests of honor, and they’ll give introductions. Then a brief presentation from my boss about how much money we raked in this year, then… yep. We can leave.”

“Sounds painless enough.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thanks for coming with me, Lo. I really appreciate it.”

Before he could register what was happening, she’d tipped his chin towards her, pressing a tender, gracious kiss on his lips.

She pulled back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

He mirrored her smile, but inside he was screaming.

He felt nothing. The kiss elicited absolutely nothing from him.

She kissed him and it felt like he was kissing a friend. Completely platonic.

He’d sunk months into getting comfortable with her just for it to blow up in his face. The second he’d let his guard down so things could progress naturally, it backfired.

He’d taken Raquel for granted. Being with her was so effortless that he didn’t have to think about it, and he let that slip away without trying to get her back.

He thought he was doing the right thing by her, but it was hurting him more than he’d ever anticipated.

It wasn’t that he considered her another notch in the bedpost. It was the opposite – the bedpost didn’t exist anymore.

There was only her. No one else. No matter how many times he tried to remedy his broken heart, it’d just bring him right back to her: the only woman that ever had the privilege of making herself a home there.

“I, uh, need to go to the restroom. Excuse me,” he said, jabbing his thumbs toward the double doors, heading outside before she had a chance to respond.

He pushed his way out of the room, his heart in time with the slap of his shoes against the flooring.

As soon as he was out of the doors, he kept walking, striding past the laggards mingling in the hallway, past the bathrooms, past the security, till he felt the dirty L.A. air coat his lungs.

God, if he could only catch his breath maybe he could go back in there and salvage the night. Maybe even make himself look less like a skittish idiot.

Despite the fact that his brain was wired to unintentionally treat her like a friend, he didn’t want to hurt this girl. 

He didn’t smoke often – just a taste of nicotine when he was drunk or the occasional cigarette when he was stressed.

There was a crumpled pack in his glove box that’d been there for months.

Why didn’t he just drive? He was fucking stranded. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t put distance between him and this situation that he’d willingly put himself in.

None of this was Renée’s fault. There wasn’t a single aspect of the situation that was her fault.

She was a girl who wanted to date a boy because of reciprocated interest.

He felt like the biggest loser in the world. Here she was, a beautiful girl with a lust for life and ambitions that dwarfed anything he’d ever imagined for himself.

And all she wanted to do was love him.

And he wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t let her.

His back slid against the brick wall until he was squatting, arms braced against his knees while he tried to gulp down fresh air as fast as the wind whipped at him.

He’d managed to find the one corner of the building that was completely unoccupied. For once, he was thankful for his gut instinct to lurk in the shadows.

He’d barely gotten a minute of solitude before the door closest to him flew open, a blur of tulle streaking across his peripheral.

The person’s breaths were labored, panicked, as they ran the opposite direction until they were at the edge of the pavement.

They bent down, just like he had, and clasped both hands over their mouth, letting out a small muffled scream.

When she was finished with that, she tilted her chin upwards, her skin illuminated by the light from the parking lot that spilled onto their side of the building.

If he thought breathing was difficult before, it got a whole lot worse when she noticed he was there.

She jumped, yelping like a wounded animal before stumbling back, catching herself with her hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t know anyone was here – I’m sorry –”

Pushing herself back up to stand, she brushed her palms off and shook the tulle skirt clean. “I’m just a little stressed. Sorry again for the outburst.”

That can’t be her. There’s no way, he thought, his mouth drying out when he got a clear view of her face.

“Raquel?” He asked, timidly, voice cracking on the first syllable.

She froze, searching the shadows, her hands white knuckling her skirt.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He couldn’t tell how long they’d been quiet when he pushed himself to his full height and took a step towards her.

“No, no, no, there’s no way,” she whispered, stumbling backwards, catching herself on the brick wall.

“It’s – uh, it’s me –” he said, laying his palm flat against his chest. “It’s Logan.”

His voice trembled, the effort of speaking (despite nearly being rendered speechless) was more than he could handle – it was as if he had to manually pick up his words like stones and drop them, and they were heavy, and he was weak.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She didn’t respond.

“I… uh, what are you doing here?” He asked finally, forcing the question past his lips.

If he didn’t say something he’d be drinking her in all night. It’d been a couple years, but she looked exactly the same.

Yeah, her hair was mid-length, the ombre traded for a black tone, and she’d gotten a few more tattoos that he could see, but she was the same old Raquel.

Same old Raquel, but professionally styled. He wasn’t self conscious of his hand-me-down suit until he noticed how polished she looked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she breathed, a strained tone followed by a struggled breath.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He’d completely forgotten about Renée.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened and closed it again, like a fucking fish out of water. There was no way to beat around it.

“I’m a plus one.”

Her perfectly gelled brows furrowed, and his gut clenched at the motion.

He was scared as hell, but damn did she look exactly like she did when she was hunched over a textbook, scrawling notes as quick as her brain summarized the words on the page.

“You didn’t… deliberately come here to see me?” She asked, searching his face for something (the truth, probably).

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, an inch or so shorter than she’d last seen it.

Why’d he have to run into her after he’d gotten a trim? He’d imagined this moment going so many different ways, and every scenario he’d pictured them looking like they did the moment they parted – if he had it his way, every detail would be exactly the same as the day he disappeared into the night, from his head down to his shoes.

“I, uh… No, I didn’t,” he stammered, taking another step her way, and that time she didn’t move back.

Shaking her head, she watched him, expression incredulous. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just because I didn’t come here for you doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” he said, reaching out towards her.

He thought she’d flinch away, but she stayed planted in place, her eyelids fluttering shut when he stroked the pad of his thumb against her jaw, revelling in how soft her skin was. Just like he remembered.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head just enough till she could kiss his palm, leaving a streak of lipgloss on his calloused skin. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is, baby,” he reassured her, before testing her even further by tugging her into a hug. “This isn’t a dream, but it sure feels like one.”

She ran her hands across his back, like she was refamiliarizing herself with his frame, before squeezing him tight, her arms shaking with effort. “You smell exactly the same.”

He laughed, burying his nose into her crown, pressing a kiss there. “You do, too. Like lavender’n’heaven.”

Raquel was in front of him, just as warm and pretty as she was the last time he’d seen her. She even felt the same in his arms, molding to his shape like no time had passed.

Adrenaline surged in his veins, and he took advantage of his momentary courage by tipping her chin upward to get a good look at her.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

Nothing else mattered to him anymore. His mechanic job, his car, his friendships, his home in L.A. –

He’d made a home in those dark brown eyes, and he was willing to drop everything and follow her to the ends of the earth if that meant he’d be back in the one home he’d ever known.

She blinked away a few tears, her bottom lip trembling, dimpling her chin.

He cupped her face between his palms, cradling her face as gently as he would with something breakable, soaking in the moment for as long as he could.

He could’ve held her like that and re-committed every inch of her face to memory, but she broke first, closing the gap by pressing her lips against his and Christ did she taste sweet.

Their mouths, arms, bodies, slotted together perfectly, not an inch of space between them.

Just as he parted his lips for her, she stiffened, retreating from him immediately.

“You taste like cherry. I hate cherry.”

Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “You hate cherry.”

He went rigid, the details from a few minutes before flooding back to him. Renée was wearing cherry gloss.

“Oh my god… you’re here with someone?” She asked, but she said it with such conviction, because she knew it was true, and she was begging for it not to be.

His mouth popped open and shut again. “I’m sorry –” “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve moved on and that’s okay. I’m happy for you.” Her voice was trembling with each word – the stones were heavy, and she was struggling, and he could tell.

“No, Raquel, it’s not like that. I promise –”

“Please don’t make me any promises, Lo. I don’t know if my heart can take it,” she said, palms up in surrender.

And she said his nickname. It sounded wrong coming from anyone but her.

“I’m serious, baby, I didn’t think I’d see you again, especially at a schmooze fest like this.”

She blinked, once, twice, processing what he’d said. “So… not only did you insult me by showing up with another woman, but you’re insulting this event that I’ve worked so hard to attend, and you’re insulting me.”

“Raquel… I never meant it that way, I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I stayed in L.A. in case I ever saw you again, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon, and I dreamed up lots of scenarios but none of them went like this. I fucked it up majorly and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t fucking know.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, her arms folded across her chest while she mulled over his words. “I never tried moving on.”

It hit him like a gut punch, grabbing his organs and twisting till pain shot throughout his body. “You didn’t?” Was all he could manage.

“No, I couldn’t. There’s no way I could when I’m still in love with you.”

She screwed her eyes shut, a sob leaving her before she could contain it.

“Raquel, please believe me –” Logan pleaded, stepping towards her. “If I woulda known you were gonna be here, trust me, I’d be dressed better and you’d be my date and I’d be showing you off to the world –”

Her watch buzzed, startling the both of them. “I… have to go. We can talk after, if you want.”

“Yes, please. That’s all I want,” he laced his fingers with hers, gently tugging her hand towards his lips to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll find you after. I promise.”

Giving him one last once over, drinking him in, like she was second guessing if he was real, she stepped back through the doors.

He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before heading in – explaining his outburst to Renée hadn’t crossed his mind till he walked back inside.

He made his way back to the table, running over how he was going to apologize, but nothing stuck. He couldn’t think of anything but Raquel.

Renée was sipping on her second drink of the night, and his beer looked like it’d been dipped into as well.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately. “I’m sorry about kissing you like that I just – I just thought you were comfortable enough. I screwed up again, Lo, and I’m so sorry.”

“Renée…” He couldn’t get over how unnatural “Lo” sounded coming from her. “The way I’ve been acting has nothing to do with you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” she laughed once, rolling her eyes. They widened as soon as it dawned on her. “Wait… are you?”

“Can we talk outside? I really want you to hear me out –” “Logan, if you’re gonna dump me, at least respect me enough to not do it in the parking lot,” she sighed, chugging the rest of her drink.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, sliding his half empty mug of beer her way. “I do respect you, though. A lot. You’re an amazing person.”

Sighing, she tipped back the beer, gulping until he could see her eyes through the transparent bottom of the glass. “I’ve definitely heard this spiel before.”

“I’m gonna tell you this story, and you’re probably not gonna believe it, but it’s true, and it was my life – it is my life,” he started, leaning against the table so she could hear his low tone.

“Years ago, I met the woman of my dreams, and she was innocent and way too fucking good for me. I was breaking the law daily by doing jobs with crews of criminals like me, living off the grid, making money in ways I’m not too proud of.

“She was a part of one of my last jobs before I left L.A. to lay low and I, uh, I fell in love with her. I’m still in love with her. I don’t know what my life would look like if I wasn’t in love with her, you know?”

Her face screwed up in disgust, and she all but slammed the mug down, whispering furiously. “Are you mocking me? Did you seriously just regurgitate the plot of Ride or Die to me? That’s the story you’re going with? One that isn’t even your own?”

“Huh, what? What are you –”

The speakers crackled and a mic squeaked as who Logan assumed to be President tapped the surface of it, cutting off his response.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a wonderful night so far. As most of you may know, my name is Arnie Harris, and I’m the President of Harris Publishing. When my grandfather founded Harris Publishing back in 1901, he only did so because he wanted to be able to publish a few of his wife’s poems as a gift. Publishers refused to register it under her name, so he made his own company so my grandma could achieve her dream of being a published author, and throughout the years, we’ve been committed to giving voices to women and minorities alike.

“This year’s been one of our best yet, and I’m so thankful to our new authors for seeing something in us and our mission statement. A big thank you to everyone here tonight – Editing, Marketing, Finance, all the staff and employees, hell, the caterers here tonight, valets, everyone. Tonight wouldn’t be possible without you.”

He droned on for a bit longer before the Vice President took the stage, and she began introducing the newest authors that they’d signed that year.

They’d copped quite a few best sellers, which was impressive. Each author took the stage briefly to thank Harris Publishing and give a brief summary of their goals for the next few years.

Renée was ignoring him at that point, refusing to even look his way. He’d be more upset about that if he wasn’t scanning every inch of the room for Raquel, trying desperately to spot the rose colored tulle and midnight hair in the crowd.

“– and the last author of the night, the number one young adult New York Times’ Best Seller for five months and counting, Raquel Olvera with Ride or Die!”

His head snapped towards the stage, his eyes wide. “What the fuck –”

“Renée, she… who…”

“She’s our top seller. The one I said didn’t wanna be in the promos?” She answered flatly, still staring straight ahead.

“Renée, that’s – that’s her, that’s the girl I’m in love with –”

“Oh, please –” She stopped when she saw how genuinely caught off guard he was. “Oh my god, you’re not lying.”

“No, that’s her – I didn’t think – I ran into her outside and she said we’d talk later, but I – I didn’t think she was coming back inside for this –”

“You’re who she wrote about,” Renée whispered, her eyes as wide as Logan’s were, words beginning to slur just a bit. “Holy shit, I just thought the names were a coincidence, but no, you’re him.”

“What… huh?”

“Oh, Logan…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Ride or Die is about you, your old crew, and how she fell in love with you.”

His heart sank. “About me?”

She nodded. “She changed most of the names but kept some, including yours. The ending… you really had to leave L.A. to flee the cops?”

He nodded. “The feds were on our tails.”

“My god… she’s so in love with you. You have to go to her,” Renée shook her head, her hair swaying around her. “No hard feelings at all. You can’t let her go – I’m serious.” 

She’d taken the stage, and had begun thanking people while Logan and Renée whispered furiously at each other. By the time they looked up, she was beginning her speech.

“I never really set out to become a writer. Even though I’m a published author, I don’t really feel like one. Every time I step back to assess the response I’ve gotten to ‘Ride or Die’, I’m rendered speechless without fail. I just wanted an outlet to get my story out, and surprisingly – thankfully – the lovely staff of Harris Publishing decided to take a chance on me. I never thought this level of success was possible, and I’m so grateful for everyone here.”

She held for applause, smiling as though she was grateful for each clap.

“But beneath the positivity and praise I’ve received, I’m still healing. I’m still hurting. Most people know that ‘Ride or Die’ is somewhat of a true story. And yes, I know there’ve been discussions on whether this is a fake autobiography and that I wrote this for attention. Honestly, for the first year after they left, I wished that it was fake, because I was in a lot of pain. Emotionally, I was in shambles.

“I’ve loved telling my story as a form of therapy, but I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. The love of my life vanished into the night and I couldn’t do a single thing about it. No closure, no healing, no moving on.

“Stagnancy’s been the norm for me for so long that I forgot what life was like when I was smiling every day. I’m still getting used to happiness being an everyday feeling for me.”

Raquel shook her head, taking a deep breath and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. The audience took this cue to clap again, encouraging her to continue.

Logan watched the monitor on the wall, which zoomed into her face, catching her dazzling brown eyes. He was in awe. She was tough as nails with a heart of gold and he still didn’t deserve her.

“I thought that a life without love was bleak, and that I was doomed to suffer because I didn’t know if I’d ever see Logan again.”

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“I’ve realized that I’m surrounded by more love than I know what to do with. By those who love my story, who resonate with my story, and who want or already have a Logan of their own. I get to experience love every day through that affirmation, and I took it for granted till… well, tonight, honestly.

“The end of the story wasn’t really the end of the story for me. I thought that ‘Ride or Die’ was the first and final book, and I’ve been terrified for a while that by the time the hype for this book died down, so would my hope, and I’d have to move on… but like I’ve said, the closure I’ve craved is in everyone that carries my story with them. You’re all healing me by making me feel seen and heard and loved.

“This might be a lot for a speech at a fancy event at the publishing company that signed me, but through all of you who’ve made this possible, I feel like the version of me from years ago when I hopped in a sports car with a stranger who later turned out to be the love of my life.

“The adrenaline, the lust for life, feeling alive – I owe it all to you. Thank you.”

The cheers were raucous by the time she stepped off stage.

Logan’s throat was tight – she still loved him no matter how much it hurt.

Jesus fucking Christ, he would never deserve her.

Renée was sniffling next to him, hand over her mouth. “Logan, you seriously need to go to her. You can’t let her get away again.”

He pulled her in for a quick hug, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. You really do deserve so much better than me.”

She grinned and patted his cheek lightly. “You’ve never been more right.”

He turned, darting towards the doors, shoving past anyone and everyone to get outside.

When he made it out of the doors, he ran smack into Raquel.

Thankfully, the only people outside of the room were the security guards, who’s attention was focused on the front door.

Raquel pulled him down the hallway and stopped at the last door on the left, a sign with her name on it taped to the outside of the door.

She fumbled with the keycard, her hands trembling.

“Shit –” she cursed, the card tumbling from her hands and onto the tile floor.

He snatched it off the ground and scanned it in one swoop. Within seconds, she’d shoved the door open and slammed it behind them.

His heart was racing. The last time she’d been this hasty was their final kiss, and he couldn’t fathom going through that again.

She stood in front of him, his back to the door, her gaze trained on his chest.

From his height he can see that her face is contorted, but she buries her face in her hands before he can get a good look.

“She looks just like me.” Her voice was a mere whisper, like she couldn’t manage anything more than that.

His heart sank to his feet. “Raquel –” “You say you didn’t know I was going to be here, but then why’d you date someone that works at the same company my book’s being published at?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting you,” he started, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. “Especially knowing how hard it’s been for you, I –”

He broke his sentence off, cursing himself. “Shit, I didn’t know you were having just as hard a time as me. I figured you’d go to college and meet someone better than me. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just say you expected me to move on because you clearly haven’t. What, is her name Rachel or something?” She pulled back, putting a step of space between them. 

He shook his head. “Renée.”

“It even starts with the same letter,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “You thought I’d move on so you started dating the first person that reminded you of me?”

“I – I’m –” He stuttered, dumbfounded that she’d gotten it in one try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I want you to understand why I’m upset, Lo. You came back to L.A. because you thought there was a possibility that you’d see me again, but you ‘figured I’d move on’. You’re seeing a girl that looks like she could be related to me, yet you’re avoiding discussing that. “I’m mad because while I’ve been trying to heal, you’ve been making yourself suffer, and that’s not fair to Renée. You had no idea if you were gonna see me again so you tried to get the next best thing. You have to see why that’s fucked up, Lo.”

“Even if I was dating Renée because she reminded me of you, none of that matters now.”

“You can’t just dump Renée because you took one look at the girl you dated for a month years ago and decided you wanted her instead –”

“Stop. Don’t try to downplay your role in my life, Raquel. You’re not ‘just the girl I dated’, alright? I loved you then and I love you now.” 

“You can’t love me and string her along at the same time, Logan,” she furiously whispered, her voice nearing hysterics.

He blinked, shaking his head. “Did… you think I was coming here to show you that I’d moved on? And wanted to rub it in your face?”

She chewed the inside of her lip, her dark brown eyes downcast. “Maybe.”

“Renée ended things first. Just now, actually. The minute she realized that I’m the Logan from your book, she told me I needed to go to you,” he reassured her, reaching out to tip her chin up with a crooked finger, forcing her to meet his eye.

“Raquel, I had no fucking clue you’d written about us and the old crew. All these years, I’ve always known how much I love you but… goddamn, I didn’t know you loved me the way I loved you.”

Her eyes glistened, her surprised laugh coming out as a soft sob.

“So… you really do love me? It wasn’t just circumstance?” She asked, leaning into his palm when he slid his hand up to cup her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter how we felt back then, baby. None of that matters now because we fell for each other while we were apart,” he smiled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips.

“God, I love you,” she whispered against his lips, deepening the kiss.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “I need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated, louder, more confident this time. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as long as you say it back.”

“I love you,” he said, no hesitation, tangling his fingers through her hair and pulling her in again.

The only time they came up for air was to whisper sweet affirmations against each other’s skin before delving back into silently relearning what they could about each other.

Logan had never been the best with words, and he was at peace with that. He knew that when it mattered, he’d show it. And in the dim lighting of Raquel’s green room, he showed her over and over just how much she meant to him.

Kiss by kiss, they adhered themselves to each other, undoubtedly deciding they’d never let each other go again.

She wasn’t Raquel. That much was obvious. She’d grown into much more than the timid girl he’d met on her 18th birthday, and even more than the headstrong driver he’d left behind. 

And he loved her this way and that way – any way he could get her. His love for every version of her was boundless, incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.

#playchoices #choices rod #rod logan #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #jade writes choices fics

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Sapere Aude - Part 10

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 2,759

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I’m not going to keep broadcasting my self-loathing bullshit, but I’ve been having a hell of a time in my life. I’m working my way out of it thanks to a stellar support system (shout out @jessiembruno​​ and @txemrn​​ for being the Tumblr pieces to that puzzle). I’m also now up to 3 friends that are pregnant, which means I have 3 baby blankets to knit in the next 6 months, so that’s something that will be taking up a bit of my time. But I promise you more stories are coming, as well as some kind of ending to this story. I’ve hit the awkward place that I’ve feared since I started writing Sapere Aude; where I know where I want it to go, but I’m not quite sure how to get there. I’ll figure it out though, I promise, just bear with me.

As always, big ups to @twinkleallnight​​ for my awesome moodboard!

Tags: My tag list angels are all listed below. Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

It was the day of the Royal Council meeting, Liam and Drake were planning to take this opportunity to work with Olivia in outfitting Riley with a camera or recorder for her next interaction with the Via Imperii. Mara had informed her of an upcoming meeting, which she was going to use as her opportunity. 

Liam was trying to keep his focus on the task at hand, destroying this group, instead of all of the information he had learned about them, and what they had done to him. The thing that made that difficult was the constant reminder of his betrayal and loss, in the form of his brother, who was still charged with guarding Eleanor. He and Bastien had decided that it would be too much of a risk to reassign him, or remove him from the guard entirely. The timing would, no doubt, tip them off that Riley had said something, and he was not about to put that target on his wife’s back. He was hoping he would get used to being around Thomas, but a part of him knew he would not be fully at peace with the situation, at least not without being able to confront him.

He also knew that Olivia was going to need to be brought up to speed. This meant that he would need to go through everything all over again, and he was dreading it. As he stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie, he was planning out the best ways to have this conversation. A look of concern clearly etched in his face, Riley noticed it the second she stepped into the room. 

“Hey, you’ve been getting dressed for an awfully long time. Are you doing alright?” She walked up behind him, taking him out of his thoughts. She knew he wasn’t, but he needed to tell her that, the last thing he needed was to feel cornered into talking about things. 

He exhaled deeply before turning and wrapping his arms around Riley’s waist. “Yes, just going over the plan for today.”

“And figuring out how you’re going to get through reliving everything when you tell Olivia what’s going on?” She arched an eyebrow. 

“Am I ever going to be able to get anything past you?” He smiled, placing a hand on her cheek. 

“Nope, never. I can read you like a book, Your Majesty.” She tapped her index finger to his nose, taking a brief pause to enjoy the sound of the soft chuckle that escaped him. “Maybe I can help. Olivia and I are having lunch before the meeting, I can fill her in on everything, then you and Drake can just work with her on the techy stuff.”

“You don’t have to do that, Riley.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t have to, but it will help you, so I want to.”

Liam pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.”

A few hours later, Riley sat on the terrace waiting for Olivia to arrive. She had Bastien perform a full sweep of the area to ensure that their conversation remained between them. Part of her hoped it would be easier to explain everything this time. After all, she had already explained everything three times. Then she remembered the hardest part of this whole thing, it wasn’t telling people what was going on, it was seeing their reactions. She was, one by one, breaking the hearts of all of the people closest to her. While Olivia had already made peace with the shortcomings of her parents, she was about to learn the truth about what happened to her best friend’s mother. Not only was she with Liam when he lost her, seeing his heartbreak first hand, but Eleanor had taken Olivia in when she lost her parents, she took care of her as if she were her own mother. Better than her own mother, she showed Olivia love and kindness, things that her mother taught her to be weaknesses. 

As Olivia approached the table, Riley stood to greet her with a smile. Olivia was instantly suspicious. It had been a few weeks since the pair had seen each other, usually when that was the case, Riley would charge her and wrap her in a hug. An action that Olivia would begrudgingly reciprocate. 

“What’s wrong?” Olivia stood in front of her place at the table, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Good to see you too, Liv. Why would you think something is wrong?”

Olivia rolled her eyes before continuing, “Because you’re standing there smiling like the queen. You didn’t run up to me greeting me with that annoying sing-song voice.”

“I’m smiling like the queen because I am the queen, and this is how I smile.” Riley feigned offense. “Maybe I’m just maturing as a person.”

“You sent me a video the other day of cats pushing things off of counters.”

“Oh yea, that was hilarious! Cats can be real je--” She stopped when Olivia arched her brow in a silent ‘I told you so’. “Alright fine, I have to fill you in on some things.”

Once they sat, Riley filled Olivia in on everything that had happened since the Harvest Ball. The recruitment, the meeting, and all of the information she had learned along the way. As difficult as it was, Olivia remained silent while Riley spoke. She wanted to make sure to get every piece of information that was being thrown at her. 

“So that’s why Liam scheduled a meeting with you when the council lets out. He and Drake are going to speak with you about cameras and recorders that I can sneak in with me to get some evidence.” There was a silence between the two while Olivia processed the information.

Olivia took a deep breath before speaking. “How is he handling all of this?”

“I mean, you know Liam. He’s keeping it inside and not really talking about it. And when he does, he’s blaming himself.” Riley shrugged. One of the things she loved about him was how much he cared about everyone else, but it was also one of his most frustrating traits. He was always too worried about those around him to properly take care of his needs, and would often blame himself for things he had no control over. 

“That sounds about right.” Olivia’s expression softened. “He took it so hard when his mother died. He was so broken.”

“And now, it’s like he’s losing her all over again, but so much worse, because he’s questioning everything about himself.” Riley could feel the emotion building up inside of her. 

Olivia smiled sadly as she reached across the table and placed her hand over Riley’s. “It will take time, he’ll get past it, and you’re going to be a big part of that.”

Riley nodded, taking a moment to compose herself. “So, you’ll help right?”

“You’ve been through a lot the last couple of days, so I’m going to let that ridiculous question slide.”

Riley sat a little lower in her seat and raised her glass to her lips before mumbling out a ‘thank you’. 

The pair finished their lunch, and made their way to the council meeting. Liam was waiting by the door, greeting the members as they entered. Riley approached first, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before taking her place next to him. As Olivia approached, an uncharacteristically sympathetic look spread across her face before she leaned in, kissing Liam on the cheek and bringing him into a brief hug. As they pulled away, they looked at each other and nodded, and Olivia continued into the room. 

Liam wrapped his arm around Riley’s waist and kissed her on the temple before returning his attention to the council members that were still arriving. Though it didn’t seem like much, Liam knew exactly what that greeting meant, and it was just what Liam needed from his childhood friend.  

As the members of the council cleared out of the room, Riley and Liam found a corner where they could have a moment to themselves. “That went well, they really seemed to like your new proposal.” Riley smiled, smoothing her hands over the lapels of Liam’s jacket.

“I’m very excited to move forward with it.” He brushed a loose hair out of her face, placing a kiss on the newly exposed spot on her forehead. “Will you be joining us for our meeting?”

“No, I’m going to pick up Eleanor and take her outside to play. You guys need some privacy. Just make sure that if it’s wearable, you pick something cute.” She reached up and kissed him on the nose. 

Liam gave an over exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over his chest. “Riley Rys, have you ever known me to give you something that wasn’t of the utmost caliber of cute?”

“Hmm let me think, cute outfits, cute jewelry, cute baby,” she pondered, placing her forefinger over her lip as she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, “cute husband. Nope, you’re right, you’ve given me the cutest everything since day one.” 

He laughed and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers. 

“Alright, break it up. You’re adults in charge of an entire country, you can’t keep being late for stuff because you were making out.” Drake interrupted the pair, who pulled away blushing slightly. 

“We’re the king and queen, we’re never late, everyone else is just early.” Riley teased before looking up at Liam. “We really should get going though.

Riley kissed Liam softly and gave Drake a hug before walking out of the room. Liam watched her exit before turning to his friend. “Let’s get Olivia and head upstairs.”

When they entered the Royal Quarters, Liam signaled for Olivia and Drake to sit on the couch before he took a seat on the chair adjacent to them. “Olivia, I appreciate your time this afternoon. I understand Riley filled you in on the situation.”

“She did. How are you doing?” She paused, looking over to Drake. “Both of you.” 

Drake knitted his brows in confusion. “Since when do you give a fuck about feelings...or me, for that matter?”

“Listen Drake, we’ve had our...differences over the years, but I know how it feels to be betrayed by your family. That isn’t something I would wish on even my worst enemy.” Olivia had a kindness in her voice that neither of the men expected. 

“Oh, well thanks. I’m alright. Liam really got hit with the brunt of it though.” Drake turned to the chair, he was also hoping to hear Liam’s answer. He hadn’t spoken much about everything since that initial meeting. 

Liam looked between his childhood friends, the two people in this world that knew him almost as well as Riley did, he knew that they wouldn’t let him get away with brushing the question off. He exhaled and wiped his hand over his face before responding. “It has been difficult, I have a lot that I still need to process. I cannot fully process everything without confronting Thomas, and possibly Eleanor. Which I clearly cannot do until this has been resolved. Riley would be exposed, I can’t put her in danger like that. My focus right now is making sure she is safe, and that we end this. That’s where you come in, Olivia.”

“Of course, talk to me about what kind of information you are looking to gather. We can go from there.”

They spent the next few hours talking about what kind of information they were hoping to collect, what Olivia had for equipment, and what she could get without causing suspicion from outside parties. They settled on an audio recorder embedded in a button that could be sewn into one of Riley’s existing blouses, along with a retractable pen that doubled as a camera, taking still shots every time the top was clicked. This would, not only, allow Riley to get the devices into the meeting, but it would enable Olivia to easily have everything delivered from Lythikos to the palace. 

As their meeting wrapped up, Riley and Eleanor walked through the door. As soon as Eleanor saw Olivia on the couch, she broke into a sprint. “Auntie!” 

Olivia raised her hand before Eleanor could make it all the way to the couch. “Eleanor, what did I teach you about running?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, pausing to remember. “Running is for the weak.”

Olivia nodded. “Very good, now approach like the princess you are, and greet your aunt properly.”

Eleanor carefully approached Olivia, stopping when she got directly in front of her. “Hello, Auntie Olivia.”

“That’s better.” Olivia reached out and pulled Eleanor into her lap, giving her a hug. 

Drake leaned in behind Olivia’s back and whispered in Eleanor’s ear, “You. Me. Maze tag. After Auntie Olivia leaves.” Eleanor covered her mouth and giggled. 

“I heard that Walker.” Olivia turned around, staring Drake down. “She is going to be the Queen of Cordonia one day, there are more important uses of her time.”

“She’s a kid, Liv, she needs to have fun.” 

“Alright, alright.” Riley stepped in and took Eleanor from Olivia’s arms. “Why don’t you two put a pin in this conversation. When you finally get over this fake hate that is so obviously love, you can fight over how to raise your children.” 

Drake and Olivia both snapped their heads toward Riley, who now had Liam standing beside her trying to stifle a laugh. 

“Yes Drake, then Riley and I won’t be the only ones running late for stuff because we were making out.” Liam exchanged a high five with his wife. 

Drake shook his head, “Gross. I’m leaving.”

“But Uncle Drake, you promised maze tag?” Eleanor looked up at him with sad eyes. 

“You’re right, I did. Let’s go kid.” He reached his arm out, taking Eleanor’s hand. “You won’t make fun of me like your mom and dad do, will you?”

“Never ever.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.” With that, they made their way out the door. 

Riley shared a brief laugh with Liam before they both turned their attention back to Olivia. They spoke for a while longer, Liam and Olivia filling Riley in on what they had come up with. Olivia was invited to stay for dinner, but she had to get back to Lythikos to prepare the recording equipment to be sent to the palace. Riley walked Olivia out while Liam remained on the couch. When she returned to the sitting area, she sat in Liam’s lap. 

“It sounds like we have a decent plan in place. I hope I can get some good information in this meeting.” Riley wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him on the tip of his nose. 

Liam looked at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes as he brought one hand up to stroke her cheek. “Me too, I just wish we didn’t have to risk your safety to get it.”

“Hey, I’ll be ok, I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’ve got this.”

He nodded. As much as he wanted to believe her, he knew this battle was so much different than any they had fought before. They couldn’t trust anyone, and there was a possibility that they were being observed at any given time. He didn’t doubt Riley’s strength or tenacity for a second. But this time, there were so many questions and unknowns about their enemy, that he feared the worst.

Riley noticed Liam falling deeper and deeper into his thoughts, she knew she needed to do something to get him back to the present. She began playing with the hair at the base of his neck as she placed soft kisses along his jaw. “You know, I don’t have to start dinner for another hour...and Eleanor is outside with Drake...any thoughts on what we could do with this sudden time to ourselves?” She asked in between kisses.

The sadness in his eyes was quickly replaced with a look of desire. “Mmm...I do have a few things in mind.” His hands traveled the curves of her body as he methodically kissed down her neck.

“Care to tell me?”

“I’d rather show you.” Liam stood abruptly, lifting Riley with him and tossing her over his shoulder, slapping her on her behind. He delighted at the yelp that escaped her at the sudden contact. He quickly carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

Continue Reading

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[yongiefilms]

FILM | Together Alone

BASED ON | The NCT secret santa collaboration feature done by bumblebeenct and lucaswithnoshirt studios over @neoculturechristmas​ headquarters 

DEDICATED TO | My own precious secret santa, @sly-merlin​! This one is for you my love. I hope I did you justice for the type of fic you requested and I hope you like it! By the way I apologize for getting your present to you late.

STARRING | Huang Renjun and Female Reader

FEATURING | Lee Donghyuck 

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Business centred, and Holiday centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, suggestive references and implications, crude humor, language, mentions of death, a deceased parent, drinking, alcohol, and other adult themes

PLOT | Everyone knew him. The heir to the multimillion dollar company. Next in line to inherit the top pharmaceutical business in all of China and South Korea. For being only 20 years old he was the most accomplished person of his age. Set to become the CEO at age 21 on his birthday, nearly a few months away, there was nothing that could deter him down the road for further success. They say he’s envied by most, yet loved all the same. If only people knew who Huang Renjun really was without his family’s name plastered against the walls of society that gave him fame and fortune. Only one would have the chance to find out the truth of his reality and sometimes when that comes near the end of a year shutting close, not everything can end pleasant like one hoped. OR Happy endings might not exist in this messed up world.

RUNNING TIME | 6.4k

DIRECTOR’S NOTE | Happy Holidays, my loves! This work is in honor of you all and the amazing year you all gave me with your immense love as well as support. I appreciate every single one of you more than you will ever know so I wish happy days among you this season and new year. I love you and please enjoy! Also, shout out to my lovely proofreader, @dvrlingrenjun​, you’re the best.

1, 2, 3 Now Rolling...

“Fuck them all!” Huang Renjun yells out in frustration, leaning back abruptly in his black cushioned chair, his hands clutching tightly at his dark strands of hair.

The younger boy smirks at him, leaning against the pillar by his office. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

A glare was sent in his direction in retaliation. “Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“Sure, big guy,” he dismisses, the jab made at the older visible with the way his words cut through the air. “Still doesn’t render the fact that you have to go to this event like you always do.”

Renjun groans, his right hand going around his left wrist to play with the gold Cartier bracelet that rested there. A gift given to him when he turned the legal age of eighteen a few years ago. A gift given to him by his father, on behalf of his mother or so it was said. One that was a promise of luxury and achievement if he continued down the path they set out for him. His decision then when he was an adult to decide his fate, but that was only a lie. The bracelet was only a bribe for a materialistic life where he could be well off and if he stepped away then he would be stripped of everything that made him who he was. 

“I know, okay? We do it every year but that still doesn't take away from the fact that I hate it. I hate all of it.”

Perhaps his father was a part of that.

“Well,” Donghyuck drawls, shrugging his shoulders when he lifts his body off the pillar to take long strides in order to reach the other boy. “At least it’s out of town this year so I’m down...I mean free vacation.” He gives a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling of juvenescence and a thrill for adventure, mystery, excitement. At least one of them still had a childlike soul and a more or less normal life while the other was forced to grow up too fast in the spotlight where eyes were scrutinizing his every move before he could even walk.

They called it maturity, but Renjun calls it loss of youth. 

“You’re such a freeloader,” Renjun mutters, his hands stopping from playing with the bracelet to glance up in exasperation.

“Says the boy inheriting an almost billion dollar company without batting an eye,” Donghyuck snorts with an eye roll, picking at his nails that now gained all of his attentiveness.

It was true after all.

Renjun laughs in mockery. “You’re just jealous, so I wouldn’t be talking if I were you.”

Donghyuck sighs loudly for effect. “Cous, I wouldn’t want your life even if I tried. Some horrifying shit.” He shakes his head, obviously disturbed by the notion.

Renjun’s voice becomes small, yet firm. “It isn’t that bad...”

Donghyuck finally stops twiddling with his fingers to give the other the time of day with a look of obvious reluctance. “Uncle is scary, can you blame me?”

“Guess not, that man is my father.”

“Exactly and as much as I would love to continue this conversation,” Donghyuck glances at his crisp navy steel Bulgari watch, seeing the time half past noon. “I got to run, meeting with the boys soon and I just needed to deliver the message before that. Little pit stop if you will.” His hands flair out in a theatrical motion as if he were giving a bow.

“Oh?” Renjun raises an eyebrow, hands reaching out to get started on the stack of papers placed at the edge of his desk by his receptionist before Donghyuck’s surprised arrival. “Say hi to them for me.” He pauses in afterthought, knowing the younger’s antics. “Or not.”

Donghyuck’s boisterous laugh rings. He knew him so well. “Very funny, but oh, wait!” 

The increase in his tone attracts the older’s regard who was beginning to read through the proposal. “Yes?”

“Here,” Donghyuck states, reaching into the back pocket of his chinos to pull out a small black velvet box with gold edging. “An early present of sorts. I assumed you might like it.” He slides the box over on the desk where it is caught in the grasp of delicate hands.

“Proposing are we? You know we are related right?” Renjun smiles snidely, running his fingers over the soft velvet in wonder. It was rare to get a gift from Lee Donghyuck himself and with the right intentions at that. 

“It would be an honor and privilege to marry me, thank you, but no it’s just...open it when I leave. I’m not into that sappy shit as you know. I have a matching one too, but yeah merry early Christmas and New Years.” His easy grin widens as he winks to take backward steps to the exit of the office. Always one for a dramatic flare.

“Matching...we can’t be a couple either, Hyuck,” Renjun says, shaking his head while he puts the box down on his desk in wait.

Donghyuck flips him off and grits out a reply. “Shut up and be grateful for once.”

Turning his head back to his papers, he mutters, “Oh, I am.”

“Anyways, bye you fucker. Don’t drown in work,” Donghyuck lets out once he turns his back.

“Thank you for caring, delivery boy,” Renjun shouts as his cousin finally opens the door to exit after his much longer than anticipated stay.

Donghyuck’s hands still on the silver knob before he can fully push the door. “When don’t I? If you’re gone then that means I would have to inherit the company and as much as I would love the money, the fame, the attention, maybe even the girls...I don’t want that responsibility. You get me?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, spinning the black ballpoint pen between his index and ring finger. “Just say you’re lazy and go.”

“I am going!” Donghyuck exclaims while he turns his head over his shoulder, shooting the boy sitting at the desk that didn’t quite fit him well, another wink. “Bye for real, Junnie!”

The door at last closes and he is gone in a blur of colors.

Renjun mumbles under his breath. “I told you not to call me that.” 

His mother used to call him that and she didn’t have the chance to stay long in this world. Taken too soon is what they say, but maybe she was blessed before everything turned to stone. 

With Donghyuck’s departure, Renjun looks over at the lone box that was gifted to him, perhaps not a gift like the others that held no meaning, for this one was an outlier in the equation. Donghyuck never gave without meaning or gain so it had to be special.

He places his pen down and picks up the box, undoing the clasp that held it close. The box opens to a sight he has gotten used to, yet there was a disparity. In between the cushion of the velvet laid a beautiful silver Chopard ring. The band was simple in design, yet intricate with the signature ice cubes filled with small sparkling diamonds across the entire width. Renjun handles the ring with care once it is taken out of the box to inspect every detail. Not only was the brand engraved in stunning cursive on the inside, but Donghyuck had gotten the ring customized with the word family in the same writing on the opposite side of the inner circle. 

Renjun runs his fingers over the engraving, the words rough under his calloused hands. He hums in thought as he slips the ring on his middle finger, the radiance seeping in from the windows catching the precious metal. “Family...family...I haven’t had one in a long time.”

The truth is he had, has, but he was too blind to see. 

Family is not just those that are immediate, composing of a father and mother or even siblings. Family can also entail the greater extent from cousins to aunts to grandparents. Family can even be those that are not blood related like the friends a person surrounds themselves by. 

Renjun has family. If only he could acknowledge them before they too left him utterly alone. 

Alone was something Renjun was not for the days to come. 

A week later after his cousin delivered the news about the annual holiday vacation and company sponsored events that his family has been hosting since his late teen years, he was flown in a private plane against his will to a remote town near Busan, far off from the heart of Seoul. He would rather spend the holidays in the city where he grew up like all those past seasons ago, but his father decided there was a need for change, a mirror of one forthcoming in virtually three months. Usually those that made the trip came for the designated three days they were given which still involved work communications with scant room for relaxation depending on the schedules of selected individuals. However, if one was a Huang, which Renjun was the only one left along with his father that were at least part of the business, then departure and stay differed. Intermingled was the Huang winter vacation with that of business affairs, a factor that was born when the tradition started. His father always said to kill two birds with one stone when given the chance and this very situation was one he took hold of to morph into a personal gain. 

Nothing was ever as it seemed with his father, nor himself. One characteristic they shared among a hundred to a thousand polarities.

Albeit this time around, Renjun had fought against his father’s wants, which was not the first instance, but was one that ended in surprising success. Success he tasted on the daily, even if all was bitter with no room for happiness. However, this success was sweet with contentment, ending with an awfully horrid aftertaste. Convincing his father to fly him out along with the others on the 23rd of December instead of the 20th was a victory no less. At least he didn’t have to spend unwanted days in the presence of his old man longer than necessary. 

He arrives in wealth and social standing like he always did for once his black A.Testoni dress shoes hit the white tiled floor of the airport’s general aviation ramp building, everyone within his general vicinity, even those afar, are taking heed to his every need, that as of now are limited. 

A slightly older woman who he deems as his assistant, comes into view, her black Prada heels clicking loudly against the tile as she advances with a clipboard and her trusty cell in her hands to the boy. She cheerful speaks into the empty building, her smile unwavering. “Mr. Huang, I am glad you had a safe flight. I printed your itinerary for the next couple of days that I will hand to you once we are in the limo. Considering it is…” She glances at her Apple Watch Series 6 to check the time. “Two forty three as of now, we can drop off your luggage at the Lodge and get you settled into your room before your three fifteen lunch with Mr. Kim and his wife at the Yongsusan Café. You will be with them for an hour before the rest of the afternoon is yours to spend productively. Then at six o’clock the maids and stylists will come by to get you ready for the business meeting at seven thirty, following with a small dinner party with those same individuals, including their wives and children. Sounds good?”

Renjun does not even have time to reply before his assistant speaks again. 

“Yes, okay! Let’s get going then.” She turns on her heel abruptly, yet with expertise without room for error and begins taking steps away from the plane to the left. “The limo should be this way, follow me while your luggage gets loaded. The drive should not take more than ten minutes.” 

He has no choice but to accompany her as he would not be able to make a run for it, he will be caught within seconds. He tried once and that was only one failure amongst little to none in his book. 

His strides are slow and lousy as if he had all the time in the world to do as he pleased, when he in fact did not, far from it in actuality. Even so before he knows it he reaches the limo and is lurched forward in motion towards his destination for the next few days. The place his dad selected oozes with sumptuous intent, being a gorgeous mid-century modern wooden lodge that nearly looked like a manor upon inspection. As the limo pulls up to the front, Renjun is able to see the beauty up close that he is entranced by even if he seems unfazed. New places and people excite him more than he lets on for his life is dull, lacking fulfillment of an unknown tomorrow. 

The porter, who is situated in patience by the front doors, strides forward to open the door of the limo, permitting Renjun to step out with the authority and grace bestowed upon him. 

When he crosses the threshold into the Lodge he is met with an even better interior that rivaled that on the outside, but he is not allowed to ponder too much on the design before the head manager greets him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang, it is certainly a pleasure for you to stay with us at the Lodge this fine holiday season. I am Gwan Jang-Mi and I will be showing you to your room today along with giving you a small tour of this place in order to familiarize yourself with the setting. If you look here to your left…”

Her speech is drowned out into obscurity as Renjun’s awareness shifts to another woman, one so stunning that he is surprised he did not take notice sooner. When sauntering through the entryway into the resting room that will be cleared out in the next couple of hours, a bar is situated to the left where you stand, arranging countless bottles of liquor to wine on the counter, no doubt for the little party later or for the meeting. Those men were heavy drinkers and needed alcohol to make it through the rest of the evening. Renjun did drink to drown his sorrows, worry, and anxiousness away, but he was not one to throw himself down a spiraling hole of darkness nor chaos that he could not get out of, for those consequences were ones he did not want to reap.

The soft sunlight peaks through the high guarded windows, shining down on your face that enunciates your features. For simply being in a black polo and khaki pants, you made it work and drew all attention to yourself without even knowing the power you held. 

The moment of admiration comes to a close when Renjun is ushered away from the ground floor to make way to his room in the upper levels, leaving you behind.

Yet that would not be the last time.

Time goes by slowly when there is no purpose, no meaning to the daily workings of one person in the masses of others. Renjun has experience in that regard, time always goes by slowly for him and exhausts him a great deal like a rotary clock that seeks no end. 

He was worn out by the time he got back to the Lodge in the early evening due to the stay with the Kims went longer than necessary and he was called elsewhere upon emergency to discuss future matters. He did not have time for himself like his assistant had plainly made known so there he was, collapsed head first into his silk covers, ten minutes to six. 

Instead of taking a long awaited nap he is ushered up and into more formal wear after a cleanse from the bustle of bodies that barge into his room. 

No privacy. No sense of normality. 

That is the normal. 

The next few hours go by in blur from him sitting in front of a mirror to have his hair styled to sitting in front of burly old men that were associates and inventors of the company in a grad meeting room with locked doors and the finest assortment of liquor that money can buy. 

He is out of the confines in no time, not even bothering to say one final hurrah before he lurches himself out the door and into the now cleared out resting room. One of the servers comes by then dressed in all black attire that was nothing of the typical black and white uniform, edging towards a usual guest. Renjun snatches a glass of sparkling champagne and gulps it down in one go off their silver platter, discreetly of course, for he has to look composed—sober throughout the entire affair. He always could hold his alcohol without a problem and he felt blessed to have that advantage. One thing he is proud of. 

He is whisked away not even moments after by one of the older investors, Mr. Han, to moreover chew over the end of the year budget and his stance on future decisions to be made in the new year. From the corner of his eye while listening to the man talk in a flamboyant manner, he sees his father standing with a glass of white wine happily talking to another investor, a more influential one, the most influential one of them all and his wife along with their daughter who was not even carefully surveying the room in search of someone.

Renjun’s eyes widen in shock, mumbling under his breath, “Shit.”

Mr. Han stops the flow of words out his mouth, his eyebrows rumpling together. He did not hear the swear word the boy uttered, yet he heard something in passing. “Pardon?”

Renjun shakes his head vaguely, bringing his third glass of champagne in the air as a sign of departure. “Ah excuse me, Mr. Han, but it seems I have been beckoned elsewhere.” His eyes shift over to his father who was not making direct eye contact with him, but Mr. Han did not need to know that little detail as he observes Renjun’s line of sight. 

Mr. Han chuckles brightly. “I see, well I must not keep you from your father.”

Renjun smiles. “No, you must not, but we shall continue this conversation later, Mr. Han. I am sure you have much more to say and I will happily discuss further with you.”

Mr. Han waves his hand in the air nonchalantly. “We shall. Now off you go.” 

Renjun nods his head, his lips still quirked up in a smile, this one more genuine than the last, as he makes a beeline towards his father to make everything seem more believable. Though once he no longer feels the eyes of Mr. Han on his retreating back he switches routes, going to the left rather than straight ahead. He circles around the opposite side, catching a stark mop of washed out red hair amongst the crowd in the process—Donghyuck. His cousin is not alone, however, talking rather freely with a girl he could not quite see in his peripheral vision. The grin on Donghyuck’s face is undeniable even with his back turned and the way Renjun hears the tiny giggles you are emitting, all is too familiar, which is the perfect cause for a disruption.

Renjun does not acknowledge his cousin when he arrives at the bar, the younger boy too immersed in conversation so he signals for the other worker that comes becking to his call. 

“A Negroni, on the rocks.”

The girl nods in understanding and turns to prepare the drink while Donghyuck still has not noticed his presence. The younger boy always did focus on what was in front of him rather than on his surroundings, contrary to his cousin that saw the whole picture. Two contrasting people surely with unlike futures ahead of them. 

The frosted glass with the reddish-orange liquid and topped with orange shavings is served to him a minute later, placed in front of him on a matching glass coaster.

He clears his throat loudly in an attempt to catch Donghyuck’s attention. “Thank you.” 

A method that proves effective since the younger boy finally turns his head to the right to see Renjun sitting on the barstool next to him, sipping casually on his high class Negroni. 

His eyes are wide, but he masks his shock with a subtle smirk. “Jun! Well, well, if it isn’t the mini man himself. How long have you been sitting there?” 

Renjun snorts into his glass, shaking his head at the dig Donghyuck made at his height, always one out for blood. “Far too long to have noticed your flirting from across the room, Hyuck.” It is now his turn to smirk, but Donghyuck’s own is still unfaltering.

“I take pride in my skills, glad you gave your time of day to notice.” He elevates his glass up then, filled most likely with a Nicolashka, his favorite holiday drink to date, and takes a sip himself, a move Renjun mimics.

Then your voice interrupts. “Sorry to cut in, but I have to get back to work. You’ve been distracting me for the last ten minutes, mister.” Your stern gaze is directed at Donghyuck from the latter statement. Although once your words are uttered, Renjun focuses his eyes on you, scrutinizing your appearance. The very girl he saw earlier today, the girl Donghyuck so happened to have a chance with before him—you.

Donghyuck laughs, the smirk morphing into a shiteating grin. “I told you, call me Hyuck.”

“Well, Hyuck, I have to get back to work...plus I am sure you want to talk to your friend.” Your gaze flickers to Renjun in that instance and lingers there longer than necessary that has him laughing to himself. 

Donghyuck’s charm only goes so far. 

The younger boy peers at Renjun when you utter out friend, and he smiles small in remorse. “Sadly, but do not let me keep you from your work.”

You turn your back on him, your eyes catching Renjun’s in the process before you look away from the intensity of the dark orbs. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

You leave the bar area then most likely to put on an apron that Renjun noticed you had not worn throughout the entire duration. Donghyuck simply distracted you before the start of your shift and after, not a good trait to inherit. 

Donghyuck hums, but let’s the remark go as he fully turns to Renjun to start up that conversation. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Must you always keep me from having fun?” 

Renjun shrugs his shoulders, swishing the liquid in his glass. “Not always, but I was saving that girl from misery. You should be thankful that I care enough.” 

Donghyuck taunts. “Oh wow I feel so special.”

Renjun sternly eyes him, his voice lowering. “You should.”

Donghyuck’s lips open to retort a response, but no words are spoken on his end for his eyes look over the older boy’s shoulders and he catches sight of someone none of them truly like or have liked after the incident. He sees her.

“Well fuck, here comes the devil,” is all he makes out and the phrase enough has Renjun turning his own head hastily to see who he was watching. Such is when he sees his ex-girlfriend, Cha Yeona, prowling straight towards their way.

“I’m going to go...so good luck, mate. You’ll need it.” Donghyuck pats Renjun’s shoulder in departure and his gesture of sympathy, leaving him in the wake of a girl he really did not wish to see or converse with. 

Once he leaves the bar in quick speed, you come in at that exact moment, your eyes zoning in on the way Yeona’s dainty hand latches onto Renjun’s forearm in greeting. You turn away from the image, busying yourself with wiping down the glasses. 

“Oh! What a lovely surprise,” Yeona voices, letting her hand maneuver down to place on top of Renjun’s hand in which she gives him a faint squeeze thereof. He flinches from the contact, retracting his hand to slip into the pocket of his Burberry blazer while the other rims his glass. 

He peers at her intently, a potency that has her giggling nervously. His looks could kill whenever he was serious with a blank face and austere hollows of eyes. “Hello, Yeona.”

She sits down gracefully on the stool next to him, crossing her long unblemished legs over each other, her hands placed in her lap. Her smile is bright and makes him want to pull out his hair. She was always two-faced. “Hi Jun Jun! How have you been?”

He lets the pet name go, but does not glance at her again, looking over her head at the white lights strung outside. “Good.”

Silence engulfs them that has her fidgeting out of discomfort. He evidently did not want to talk. She reaches her hand out to touch him once more that has him leaning away. She sighs in defeat, retreating from the gesture. She would have to reach him some other way. “Well...I—”

He cuts her off from continuing, drowning the last contents of his drink before he pushes the glass away towards the server at the end of the counter. He puts a hand up. “Save it. I have no reason to talk to you again. Leave.” 

He arches his eyebrow when he sees she makes no move to leave and he chuckles darkly. “Do I have to tell you again? Or should I have security escort you out?”

She flinches from the tone of his voice and gulps, her throat becoming exceptionally dry. She hurriedly stands up, almost ripping over her heels and departs without a goodbye, not that he wished to get one from her. Her slim body covered in a blood red dress slips into the crowd and Renjun finally releases the breath he was holding. 

He tugs at the strands of his gelled back hair. “Fucking bitch,” he mutters, lifting a finger in the air to signal for another drink that the server speedily moves to make. 

“A little harsh, don’t you think?”

Renjun lifts his eyes to see you gaping at him, an eyebrow uplifted in fascination as you finally were in your uniform, a white cloth draped over your shoulders. Renjun runs his hand through his hair and scoffs from the remark thereafter. He was sure the stylists would be upset to see him dishevel their mighty work, but he could care less.

He shakes his head, the strands of hair rustling. “No, I think not. She deserves it.”

“Wow. Again, harsh.” You laugh mockingly and grab his drink that was slid over by your coworker to clean the glass again. You place the beverage down on the coaster which he takes with pleasure, muttering a small thank you that you can barely hear amidst the classical music playing in the background. Your hands make contact for a split second that has tingles erupting on your end, in a rather cliche response, yet he made no move of the feeling. 

There is quietness again that makes you flustered since you were never one to enjoy the muted scenery, always wanting a sound ringing in your ears. While Renjun enjoyed the still, always wanting a sound that faded in the wind and never made a comeback appearance. 

In a desperate attempt to keep conversation while making yourself busy by fixing up the bottles of alcohol, you propose a question that invades his privacy, whilst he never had privacy to begin with, a factor you were left in the dark about.

“So...um...your girlfriend?” You ask, in regards to Yeona that left some minutes ago. 

Renjun snorts, placing down his glass and interlocks his hand to rest his chin on, a move to focus solely on you. “Right. She’s my ex-girlfriend actually so you’re not entirely wrong.”

You mumble out a quiet, “Oh.” It was not your business to know his affairs after all, yet there was a voice nagging within that made you curious to find out every part of him.

The tranquility hugs the both of you once more, until he questions you out of the blue. 

“You want to get out of here?”

To say you are shocked is an understatement, since you are in fact bamboozled beyond belief. He says the declaration with so much firmness and certainty, it has your heart twisting on the inside.

You lightly laugh to mask the shock and turn around to really look at him, a look that he reciprocates. “I don’t even know you.”

A keen smile is visible on his lips. “Exactly the point. You have nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, leaning against the counter of the bar to stare into his eyes that look so lifeless, yet beautiful. “Maybe, but this is my job. I can’t just bail.” 

He leans his head closer to you, an act that allows you to a whiff of the Christian Dior Ambre Nuit cologne he wears and his minty fresh breath. “Of course you can.” His soothing voice turns teasing as he smirks. “Don’t worry I won’t tell.” 

You scoff to yourself, surprised by his mannerisms of outforwardness. You look around then to see if anyone is watching the two of you, but all eyes are elsewhere and you let out a sigh of relief. Another girl comes into the bar when you glance to the side, most likely to cover the next shift that was not yours quite yet, be that as it may you did have a break coming up. 

Renjun outstretches his hand in patience, his smirk slowly growing, even if it was borderlining a smile that you could see right through. He hums in anticipation and you give in.

“Okay fine, but not for too long,” you say as you rest your hand in his. The cold of your fingers meet his warm ones and you latch on for dear life, afraid to let go. 

He grins at you and squeezes your hand. “No promises.” 

Then he proceeds to drag you out of the bar, tugging you to who knows where. The tingle of a secret keeps you on your toes and you become giddy, laughing along the halls as he steers you left, right, straight, left, right, up...a never ending cycle of adventure.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” You ask after gaining the courage. He is intimidating in some regards, the thought of how he acted towards his ex-girlfriend as visible as day in your mind.

He shrugs, finally slowing down. “Who knows. Could be outside in the cold or near a fireplace in the warm. You will just have to see.”

“That certainly gives me no direction at all.”

He turns his head to look at you and stops suddenly, having you nearly crash into his back before he tugs you to the other side. He chuckles when he sees your horrified face from almost busting your nose. “That was the point, darling.”

You huff in annoyance when he continues walking, the pressure of his fingers around your own feels heavier as time drags on and your heart has no sense of calm, constricting with the name of endearment that slipped past his slim lips.

“Okay, we are here!” He announces and lets go of your hand, the bareness of his heat leaving you shivering. You take a step back from planting your feet firmly on the floor and glance around the room in which he stopped. It was one of the upper level rooms with strict access only to the most wealthy of the associates and investors. His family must be one of those highly regarded, if only you knew how highly regarded his family is, being the ones with the most status, the most affluent lifestyle. However, you would remain clueless.

“Oh, wow. The view up here is amazing.”

Renjun laughs, placing his hands in the front pocket of his slacks as he strolls around the room, glancing at the glowing fire that was left on and the books that were sealed shut. “Trust me, I am well aware. Why do you think I brought you up here?” He gives you an exasperated stare, peering past at the giant window you stood in front of that showcased the whole town, now covered in sleek white snow. It must have snowed while he was conversing with others at the party for when he arrived at the meeting hours ago, the land was void.

The white flakes are still falling outside, delicately covering everything in one uniform color that leaves you in awe and he is left admiring you, how at peace you are. How free you look, an emotion he never held onto in his entire life.

“So besides admiring this view, what are we doing up here?” You ask, your fingertips grazing the cool frosted glass of the window, seeing beyond to the endless landscape and twinkling stars along with lights of the houses nearby.

Renjun answers bluntly. “Admiring the view.”

You can’t stop the titters from escaping you and you roll your eyes, an action he sees through the reflection.

He steps forward, coming up besides your figure to look more clearly at the breathtaking scenery of a winter wonderland. “No, I’m joking...at least partially.” 

You giggle some more, interlocking your hands in front of you. “I didn’t know you had it in you to joke.”

It is now his turn to laugh. “Darling, I have a lot in me that you don’t know.”

You sigh solemnly, taking a step back to turn around, examining the other objects around the room. “Oh, I’m sure.” 

He is an enigma waiting to be unraveled, but you would not be the one to solve his case and that alone is an idea that scares you. 

Before you can get farther away, his hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from escape. You peer down at his hand then up to his eyes, your eyebrows scrunching together in perplexity.

He does not speak, only drags you into him to where you are now chest to chest, only an inch of distance between your bodies. The closeness between the two of you leaves you breathless and gasping for air. His thumb carrasses your arm and runs down to the palm of your hand, enveloping his fingers around your skin. Your eyes are trailing the movements and you take a sharp intake of breath, curious as to what can happen next. He hooks his other free index finger under your chin to lift your face up so he can see you in distinct luminosity.

You have gazed at his eyes practically all evening, but nothing has prepared you for seeing him up close. He is even more handsome in full definition from the lines on his soft pink lips to his perfectly tousled hair. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, his thumb running along your cupid’s bow. “Absolutely and breathtakingly beautiful.”

You gulp, the words drying up in your throat for what could you say to his compliment?

Then everything happens at once.

His hand moves to wrap around the back of your head and he tugs you closer by the other until you are pressed up against each other. He lightly pushes your head forward and contact is made. 

Lips against lips. Moving and moving against each other, taking all your breath away for the second time within a span of a few seconds. 

He lets go of holding your hand and wraps his arm around your waist, to pull you closer if such is even possible. To make the contact more tender and desirable.

You suppose desire is that which allows the moment to escalate further. From a mere innocent kiss to a fiery passion of craving for more. 

When your lips separate, he does not think twice before grabbing your hand once more and dragging you down the long corridor to arrive at his secluded room around the corner.

He opens the door with haste as you come tumbling in after him, grabbing, pulling, tugging until all that is left is just you and him.

The frantic beats of two hearts. 

The heat of skin pressed against skin. 

Simply two bodies that became one all due to the desire floating around the room and pushing you to the limit. 

You lost yourself in him that night and he in you. 

Lost to the pure ecstasy of pleasure during the season of joy and love.

Yet the season could also be one for giving and taking.

You wake to a cold bed the next morning.

Gone is the warmth of a boy who made you feel like you were on top of the world, someone special enough to demand notice and have anything that is asked for. 

Gone is the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear, the words of assurance, comfort, and false love that made you feel worth it and simply protected.

Gone is the long lingering touches of his fingers pressing into you and dancing along the lines of your body to explore and learn.

Gone is the feeling of his lips on your skin that was enough to ignite you ablaze and leave you seeing all the colors of the rainbow.

Gone is he—Huang Renjun. 

All that remains of the remembrance from the night is the note he left by the oak bedside table, one that crushed the dream of longing and hope within. One that slapped you with the crude reality of who he truly was, is, in a place that you did not belong to and never would. 

Thanks for last night, but it’s a one time thing. You can see yourself out. Happy holidays.

He signed the note with his initials, H.R. and his family’s embroidered seal. 

Then you realize in that moment, your bare body covered in his silk covers in the large suite he had all to himself, that the holidays are not for everyone. 

You can either be together with someone else or alone by yourself. 

Never the two. 

Always one or the other. 

You had hoped to be together yet alone with him in privacy to make your own memories away from prying eyes, but at the end of the day you were by yourself and he was too.

That is how life works in this sick, twisted world.

Men against men. Women against women. Everyone against everyone.

Alone.

Never together. 

Like he and you.

#dreamwritersnet #kwritersworldnet #cznnet #nct-writers #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #renjun fluff #renjun angst #renjun oneshot #nct dream scenarios #nct fics #nct oneshot #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream renjun #renjun x reader #renjun fic #huang renjun #nct soft hours #nct dream x reader #renjun x you #nct dream oneshots #nct x you #nct renjun #nct dream fluff

[marvelslut16]

Forties themed party

Prompt number: 3 “you did this?”

Fandom: Marvel

Paring: Steve Rogers x reader

Rating: T

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing probably. Sharon Carter is an ass- I feel like that’s a running theme in my Steve fics. 

A/N: I indulged myself with some 40s slang in this piece. I was crying while writing this because it was the first time I’ve listened to the Ink Spots since my Grandma died, so I’m sorry if it sucks. 

While Steve Rogers was physically turning thirty-four, he was technically turning one hundred. Every year around his birthday, Steve would swear up and down he didn’t want a big party, and you somehow reigned Tony in every year. But this year. You actually approached Tony first, wanting to throw a big birthday bash for Cap’s hundredth birthday. Steve always got reminiscent of the forties around his birthday, so you approached Tony with the idea of a forties themed party. 

Everyone would have to dress in vintage forties clothes, the music would be from then- nothing new, and you even convinced Bucky to wear his old Sergeant uniform- on loan from the Smithsonian. Bucky absolutely loved the idea, he too wanted to be transported back to his old life even for just a few hours. Somehow all the Avengers kept the party a secret from Steve- even Peter and Scott. 

The part comes together nicely, Frank Sinatra playing from the speakers, caterers dressed up like they’re in the army, and bartenders choosing between skirts or pants. Bucky was in awe at how you transformed the inside of the banquet hall to look like a dance hall straight out of the forties. 

“Happy Birthday, Stevie!” you yell when he walks into the hall. Your voice gets drowned out in the crowd, but his eyes immediately find you, almost like he heard you in particular. 

Steve is dressed in his original Captain America uniform, the one he wore for all of the shows- also on loan from the Smithsonian. 

Before you can make your way to Steve he’s being swallowed by a crowd of his friends and coworkers, each wishing him a happy birthday. You smile fondly at Steve, before heading to the bar to get a drink. Bucky soon joins you, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of the crowd with Steve anymore. 

“Looking good, Sarge,” you smirk, fixing Bucky’s tie as he leans on the bar beside you.

“Not so bad yourself, Doll,” he gives a pointed look at your choice of outfit. “Someone’s being a little obvious today.”

“How on Earth did you convince him to wear that?” you ignore the comment, glancing down at the Captain America USO dancer outfit you found. 

“I told him a certain Dame wanted to see him in it,” he chuckles lightly, glancing back at Steve and the now thinning crowd. “Thanks for doing this (Y/N/N), I know it’s for Steve but I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” 

“Well it may be Steve’s party, but it’s for you too,” you smile widely at your friend. “You weren’t here for me to throw a huge hundredth birthday party for last year.” 

“This party’s a real humdinger!” Steve exclaims happily when he reaches you and Bucky, Sharon hanging off his arm. 

Sharon Carter, your acquaintance whom you don’t really like. She always seemed to make everything about Steve a competition with you; who he said good morning to first, he got to go on a mission and undercover with him, who he smiled at in a meeting. You’re secretive about your feelings towards Steve, the only person you actually told being Bucky. But Sharon doesn’t try to hide her affections in the slightest, always following him around like a lost puppy. 

“It’s like we’re back home,” Bucky affirms, giving you a fond thankful smile. 

“I can’t believe Sharon did all this! Steve’s statement shocks you, but the triumphant smirk on Sharon’s face tells you she already took all the credit. If you tell him the truth you’ll look jealous, Sharon no doubt would make a big deal out of it, saying you always try to steal her thunder or something of that nature. 

“What are you-” Bucky starts, but you put a hand on his bicep to stop him from continuing, shocking both him and Sharon. 

“I couldn’t have planned a better party myself,” you smile sadly,grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and knocking it back. 

You planned on telling Steve tonight, pulling him onto the dancefloor and confessing your feelings for him. Ask him to go steady with you. But your plains have been foiled because of Sharon. Of course Steve has a soft spot for this Carter too. 

“Care to go cut a rug?” Bucky sticks a hand out for you to grab. You giggle lightly at the forties speak, but place your hand in his with flourish. 

“I’d love to, Sargent,” you giggle louder as he twirls you onto the dancefloor. Billie Holiday’s voice fills the room as Bucky tries to teach you some swing dance moves. 

After five songs you and Bucky head back to the bar to grab another drink and to cool down from all the dancing. “You’re quencher, dollface,” he hands you a cold drink. 

“Why thank you,” you accept the drink, taking a small sip as your eyes scan the room. You find Steve off in a corner talking to Tony, Sharon surprisingly nowhere in sight. 

You cover your mouth in shock as the song Maybe by the Ink Spots starts to play. You close your eyes and you’re transported back to your grandparents' living room when you were a kid. All the little details you’ve forgotten over the years come into focus and it’s like you’re there again. A tear slips down your cheek as  you sway slightly along to the song. 

“I remember my Grandparents dancing to the Ink Spots when I was a kid,” you admit, feeling Bucky’s concerned gaze on you. “All I’ve ever wanted is a love like theirs.”

“Can I have this dance, sweetheart?” you open your eyes at Steve’s gentle voice. He gives you a small smile, reaching up and wiping your tears away. 

You're acutely aware of the fact that he’s never danced with a woman before, anytime anyone asked him to dance at a party he’d always say he was waiting for the right partner. He told you about his missed date with Peggy, the both of you convinced at that time he’d never want to dance with anyone else. 

You nod, placing your hand in his and letting him lead you back to the dancefloor. He pulls you in close to him and you rock back and forth to the music, the opposite of your dancing with Bucky. You rest your head on Steve’s chest, the mirror image of what your grandparents looked like back in the day. You asked Steve if he liked the Ink Spots back in the day the first time you met him, that question kickstarting your friendship. 

“You did this?” he doesn’t need to clarify, but he does anyway. “You planned the party, not Sharon. Don’t even try to deny it, Tony told me this was all your idea.”

“Yeah,” you admit into his chest. “I thought that you’d like being transported back to your time for such a big birthday.”

“This party had your name written all over it,” Steve slowly spins the two of you, the action earning intrigued glances from your friends. “I was surprised when Sharon said it was her idea, and then you didn’t deny it when I brought it up.”

“Sharon’s in love with you, she would just call me jealous if I denied it,” you out Sharon's feelings, if Steve hadn’t already caught on. “I didn’t want to get in an argument with her and ruin your party.”

“(Y/N), I love it,” he pulls back slightly so you’re looking into his eyes. “I love you. I have for a long time now.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you smile at him, ecstatic that he feels the same. “Bucky said I was being a little obvious about my feelings with my outfit today.”

Steve chuckles, eyes racking over your figure, “I love the look, think you could wear it later?”

“Steven Grant Rogers! That’s no way to talk to a lady!” you laugh and playfully smack his arm. 

“(Y/N), will you go steady with me?” there’s a small bit of fear in his eyes, but they mainly shine with hope. 

“I’d love to, Stevie,” he pulls you in for a kiss, both of you smiling into it. “I was planning on asking you the same thing.”

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​ @mrs-malfoy-always​

#steve rogers x reader #fictober20 #day 14 of fictober #marvel #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america one shot #captain america imagine #captain america x you #america's ass