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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9.8k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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banner designer @jamaisjoons

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, sex toys, bondage, blindfolds, use of safeword (yellow, not red), aftercare, pet names, praising, degradation, controlled orgasm - delay/denial/forced, oral (m receiving), masturbation, face fucking, loss of virginity (wink wonk it’s our namjoonie), however not full sex just a bj

DAY FIVE

“Going outside again today, Namjoonie?” Yoongi questions with a teasing grin.

Namjoon sighs morosely at the thunderous downpour of rain visible through the kitchen windows. “It’s over for me,” he announces sullenly. “I’ve lost.”

You pause, spoonful of rice hovering in front of your open mouth. “So your prompt was ‘the outdoors’, huh?”

A miserable cry leaves his throat before he buries his face in his arms, slumped at the dining table where a few of you have gathered for breakfast. “Damn it,” he whines, muffled by the thick cable knit sweater he’s wearing.

You’d woken up early to a crack of thunder; the weekend storm apparently descending upon the villa earlier than expected. For once, you’d had to help Jungkook work out the heating system, cranking it up until you could smell the quickly-heating dust that had gathered from lack of use.

Yoongi, also an early riser, had announced that a day like today required a hot breakfast, and you’d helped him prepare a basic stew and some steamed rice as you were gradually joined by Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok. You’d waited a bit for the remaining two contestants, but the wafting aroma of beef and potato quickly broke your patience.

You finish your mouthful with a chuckle, leaning over to rub his back. “But now that you’re already going to get the penalty, you may as well do whatever you want.”

Namjoon’s body is still for a few moments as he considers this, before the faded purple of his hair jostles with a nod. “I guess so,” is the reply that comes from the crook of his arm.

You grin. “It’s okay, it’s not like you’re the last one. Hoseok hasn’t gone yet, and I swear Jimin doesn’t even wake up before midday.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at you challengingly but before he can retort, the youngest makes a noise of disagreement in his throat.

“Oh, he’s not sleeping,” Jungkook answers breezily between cheeks stuffed with rice. “What? Yesterday I wanted to ask if I could borrow one of his shirts for my stream this week - you know, that see-through pink one he wore over a white shirt? - and he didn’t answer when I knocked so I opened the door-”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi and Jin cut in simultaneously, faces turned down in disappointment.

“Wait!” Jungkook protests. “It’s not as bad as it sounds! I just stuck my head in the door and he was in the bathtub-”

“He gets a bath and I don’t?” Hoseok asks incredulously.

“Hobi-hyung, please,” Jungkook whines. “Not the point. So like, his hair was covered in white stuff and he had this bright green clay mask on his face and a black one all over his hands and the water was like pink, but still see-through and I could kinda smell rose and maybe tea tree oil but then he was yelling at me to get out and then I got a text saying if I told anyone he’d-” Jungkook pauses, his excitement fizzing out suddenly, replaced by a look of pure fear. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said all that. Let’s pretend that never happened.”

Jin looks like he wants to ask for more information, but Hoseok huffs, shuffling in his seat impatiently. “Who cares,” he spits petulantly. “He isn’t fucking Edward Cullen; just because he’s mysterious doesn’t make him hot. I can be mysterious.”

Yoongi gasps, pointing at Hoseok’s feet wordlessly. That alone is enough for the younger man to let out a pealing yelp, stumbling up out of his chair and jumping on his feet, frantically patting himself down as he wide-eyes the floor. Yoongi begins chuckling, a dry cackle that spreads to the others at the table, and Hoseok deflates, sending him a withering gaze.

Sitting back down in defeat, though not without glancing down one last time cautiously, Hoseok huffs at Yoongi, mouth sticking out in a pout. “You’re lucky I’ve already found my arch nemesis or it would be you, Yoongi-hyung.”

“What a relief,” Yoongi replies in sarcastic monotone.

Hoseok frowns, before cheering up again to send you a bright grin. “Hey, Y/n, are you gonna go out to the confessional booth today?”

“Real subtle,” Yoongi murmurs lowly.

Ignoring him, you shake your head. “It’s raining,” you reply, “I’ll get wet.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Hoseok tuts, the dull thud of his foot stomping making Yoongi fight to prevent a smile. “Stop it, hyung! You’ll give it away!”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you assure, “it doesn’t really matter if you lose. The penalty is just spending the week in the bunk room. If you think about it, it’s like a sleepover.”

The doms eyes slide back and forth as he considers this. “Okay!” he announces cheerily. “My prompt is the confessional booth! If everyone else says theirs, we can all hang out together!”

You swear you could hear a pin drop. Namjoon looks like he’s feeling sorry for himself again, Jungkook and Jin are both avoiding his entreating gaze, and Yoongi just stares at Hoseok unabashed, smirk deepening as the silence stretches out.

After a minute of dead air, Hoseok frowns. “Fuck you guys. I wanted to sleep on the bunk beds anyway.”

Feeling bad for him, you stand up, collecting the empty bowls around the table and taking them out to the kitchen. “It’s okay, Hobi,” you chime, “if everyone else succeeds for theirs then I can keep you company.”

Hoseok’s eyes go wide, before he turns to Namjoon. “Buddy, you gotta fuck her outside. Let me have this.”

Namjoon pales, staring at the rain outside which continues to bucket down. “We’ll catch a cold.”

“Fine, I’ll just make sure I don’t lose,” Hoseok insists, standing up himself.

You walk back towards the dining room. “What are you gonna do, ma-Hobi!” You squeal as your body is suddenly lifted, swung over a shoulder.

“Woah, hyung, you’re strong!” you hear Jungkook gush as Hoseok carries you without so much as a grunt. “That’s so cool!”

“Hey!” you try to snap, but with your body folded over a bony shoulder and hair dangling on end, you can’t imagine the heat of your comment is felt by anyone. “This is kidnapping!”

“Not really,” Jin calls out in a bright tone, “he’s not taking you off the property.”

You kick your legs in the air in frustration, blood rushing to your head. “Fuck you! You can go fuck Yoongi without me next time!”

“As far as threats go, that’s not strong,” Jin retorts, his voice carrying over the three shocked parties. “Fucking Yoongi would be a pleasure.”

“Thanks, Jin-hyung.”

“No problem.”

You feel your cheeks heat up with the added blood and your eyes ache, so you give up the fight, instead batting your fists against Hoseok’s ass in protest. “Hurry up, John Cena,” you grumble. “Either let me down or take me to the confessional room before I pass out.”

“So demanding,” Hoseok tuts, but before you know it you’re shifting, getting tugged down and up and sideways, vision spinning sickly until you’re resting, bridal style, in Hoseok’s arms.

You pout up at the dark-haired man. “Hobi, I feel seasick now.”

He grins, lips quirking into a heart shape. “Are you that wet already?”

Your head lolls back as you kick your legs weakly in his hold. “Stop it,” you whine. “Being mean.”

“Poor baby,” he jibes, and calls out a cheery goodbye to the others, walking you out to the outside dining area where you’d spent that first night, and following the house around until you arrive at the garden shed that houses the confessional room. Once he lets you down, he checks his phone, wincing at what he sees. “Shit. Producer Shin is getting impatient.”

Even with all the excess blood in your head, you pale at the thought of the friendly middle-aged man that operated the camera in the room. “He’s not waiting there, is he?”

“No,” Hoseok dismisses distractedly, typing out a reply, “I exiled him to Sejin’s caravan out front. He just doesn’t like leaving his post for too long in case others want to film.” After he pockets his phone, he glances up at you, a strange dark flicker in his eyes. “Get inside and sit on the stool. Wait for me.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden change in his tone, his demeanor. “Why should I have to wait?” you protest. “You’re the one that wants me in-”

You jump when a sudden smacking noise rings in your ears, sharp and thin. In front of you, Hoseok has simply clapped his hands together once, but the fright as well as his sudden seriousness has your words dying in your throat.

“I don’t appreciate subs that talk back,” he says slowly, each word enunciated and clear, like he’s reciting an important law. “So go inside, sit on the stool, and wait.”

“Yes, sir.” The honorific is meant to be a final sarcastic sign of defiance, but you find yourself meaning it as you say it. This isn’t Hobi that you can joke and laugh with. This is a glimpse of what he’s like at his job at the dungeon. Of what he’s like when he’s Master.

His back straightens and his face clears in approval, but he doesn’t praise you for it, simply standing in stoic expectation for you to follow his order.

When you get inside, you feel his eyes on your back like two hot pinpricks, but you don’t dare look back, leaving the door open a crack as you sit on the stool.

The room itself is cramped, with just enough room for the stool, the camera, and a seat behind it, empty for the first time since you’ve arrived. You’re used to seeing a producer sitting behind it, open from eight in the morning until midnight; Producer Shin doing the early half and Producer Kang in the evening. Both were friendly, middle-aged men. Shin was divorced and Kang was happily married with two kids in primary school, and after you’d gone through whatever thoughts were on your mind and whatever questions fans had sent in, both men would often switch off the camera and chat with you about whatever topic felt interesting at the time.

Though it wasn’t broadcasted like your interactions with the other guys, you really had found good company in the two of them, as well as Sejin. On the Tuesday after Namjoon had walked out on you, you’d even gone out the front door to the caravan where Sejin resided, joined by Shin as the two ate dinner. While the two of them, Sejin especially, preferred not to know any extra information about the game just to maintain a professional distance, but that didn’t mean they didn’t give you a hot cup of tea and a portion of the Chinese food they’d ordered in and distract you with chatter about a k-drama Sejin was watching.

Used to them, it feels strangely empty in the confessional room with that empty chair, more so now that you’re restless with anticipation, eyes straining to see outside the sliver of door you left open.

He leaves you for a long time. Whether it’s on purpose or not, or whether you’re just feeling the drag as you wait, you don’t know, but it seems like hours of being on full alert before the sudden metallic screech of the door opening gives you a fright, heart racing as he steps inside.

You gape as he casually steps behind you, a hand on the back of your head locking you in place when you try and look back at him. The glimpse you got was enough to see that he’d changed clothes slightly; bright yellow sweater replaced with a black leather jacket open over a see-through black shirt. The sight of him in your mind flashes every time you blink like an afterimage. Beyond the all-black ensemble, the tight ripped jeans and the heavy boots, perhaps the picture that stays behind your eyelids the longest is that of his hands. You didn’t have enough time to see, but he was holding what looked like a small rucksack, like the kind you’d take swimming or to play tennis. Somehow, you imagine what it contains isn’t so innocent.

You swallow as his fingers press on your scalp, splayed out. “Face the front,” he commands, and his voice brooks no protest. Once his hand leaves you, you remain still; hyper aware of the effort it takes to keep your eyes ahead, staring at the wall behind the Producer’s chair. “Arms.”

Pausing, you stare dumbly down at them as they rest on your lap. “What?”

Hoseok lets out a light sigh, like he’s exercising great patience, and taps your elbow. “Behind your back. Both of them.”

You follow his order, a shiver running through you when his hands, calloused but limber, grasp your wrists tightly. He ties you up in silence, the cool caress of silk making your eyes slip shut in bliss. While you definitely have an interest in it, your experience in bondage isn’t particularly vast, and you marvel at how such a simple tie changes you. With every swish of fabric against the delicate skin of your wrists, your nerves all over your body sing out, need pooling between your legs. Your shoulder blades are tucked back, opening out your chest, and even in a thick hoodie and leggings, you feel deliciously exposed. Your forearms are crossed over in the hollow of your back so that the tie binds your wrists together. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around your opposite forearm for support, and knowing that there’s no back to the chair, that you’re now open on all sides, has your heart-rate picking up.

You feel your arms tugged as he tightens the knot with a flourish, before slipping two fingers under.

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs, and you obey. “Try to get out.” You pause for a moment, but then pull in opposite directions, attempting to wiggle yourself out, but to no avail. “Good.”

You swallow again, fighting against the dryness of your mouth. “What are you-” Your eyes fly open wide as his hand claps over your mouth, pulling your head back to rest against his chest as he looks down at you. You make a noise of protest, but he shushes you, brows in a straight line of disapproval.

“I ask the questions, princess. You see that chair?” He points ahead, and you try to nod but fail as his hand keeps you still, your breath coming hot through your nose. “That’s where the producer sits and asks you questions. So the only thing I want to hear from you are the answers to my questions, and your safewords if you need them. Understood?”

You try and nod again; this time, he unwraps his fingers from over your mouth and lets you catch your breath. “Yes, sir,” you confirm, voice small.

“Do you remember your colours, princess? Can you tell me?”

You lick your lips where they’ve gone dry. “Green for go, yellow for slow down and red for stop... Sir.”

If he catches the pause where you almost forgot to say his title, he lets it slide. “Good. Let’s begin.”

You’re left dazed when he lets go of you and steps away in one swift motion, stepping to the side. You force yourself to keep your gaze ahead, unsure if the command from earlier is still in effect, but your eyes strain to make out the peripheral of him bending over the rucksack, rifling deep inside it. Your stomach curls at the sounds that emanate; the soft thuds of glass and silicone, the jangle of metal, the rustle of fabric.

Finally, he stretches up again, and you suck in a breath when his hand finds its way to your mouth again, this time wrapping tightly around your jaw and turning your face to look up at him, at the small device he’s wiggling in his fingers.

“Do you know what this is, princess?” Hoseok grins, and your eyes focus in on the small metal object. It’s short, a stubby cylinder. On closer inspection you notice a small remote tucked in his palm. A remote-controlled bullet vibrator. You nod as much as you can in his iron grip, and his eyes twinkle. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and let me put it in?”

Your heart stops, blood rushing south as your desire skyrockets. “Yes, sir,” you gasp needily, unable to help yourself rocking your hips against the smoothed top of the wooden stool.

Hoseok tuts at your movements. “Good girls stay still,” he chastises, and you freeze, feeling your jaw ache once he lets go.

As it turns out, ‘in’ doesn’t mean inside of you, but rather in your panties. Your fingernails dig into your forearms with the effort to not move, biting down hard on your tongue. He steps in front of you, hands dipping shamelessly to the front of your leggings, fingers tugging at the elastic and releasing, letting it snap onto your front. You hiss in a breath through your nose but don’t speak, remembering his rule. Going back, this time his hand slips under both layers, and you can’t help the whine that comes out when you feel cold metal against the heat of your core, sliding over your clit. Frustratingly, he himself doesn’t touch you, only placing the vibe before removing his hand, patting over your crotch where you can see the obscene bulge, straight down the middle.

You let out a breath, brows furrowing with want, but he simply walks away, leaving you tied up and waiting as he sits behind the camera.

He looks entirely in his element, legs spread and leaning back in the chair, fingers running over the control in his hands. In front of him, slightly to the right so his face isn’t blocked, is the camera. It’s still set up, black lens staring you down from its position on the tripod. You watch with baited breath as he leans over and turns it on with a little electronic beep, Your pussy clenches at the thought of him filming this, not for the show but for himself.

How he’d take it to his room, booting up his laptop and locking his door. He probably sat much like he is now when he jerked off; legs wide to make room for his hands. Watching you moan and writhe, hands trapped behind you and chest pressed out as the metallic whine of the vibrations is just barely audible through his speakers. Would he drag it out, wanting to savour every last minute of the video, stroking himself slowly so as not to cum too soon, or would he be frantic, desperate, panting alone in his room as he tries to orgasm in time with you, spilling all over himse-

An unbidden cry leaps from your throat as you’re taken off-guard by the sudden voltage between your legs. Your thighs snap shut but the pleasure continues, Hoseok watching raptly as your shoulders twist, the instinct to pull your arms forward even as soft silk holds firm. “Hobi,” you whine imploringly.

He ignores you, ramping the vibrations up enough that the noise fills the room; a constant high-pitched whirring that rings in your ears even as you clench your thighs around it. Though you’d enjoyed the odd vibrator yourself, you were sure Hoseok knew full well that there were always a few high settings that were quite simply too much. It overstimulates you before you’ve even orgasmed, so much you can’t take it.

“Hobi!” you cry, curling over yourself as if you can escape it. Belatedly, in your electrified brain, a puzzle piece clicks into place. “Sir! Sir, please, turn it off! It hurts, please!”

You go lax, shuddering when it stops suddenly; the only sound in the confessional room coming from your heavy breathing.

“Oh, princess,” he soothes in a warm voice, “don’t worry. Sir will help you learn. Think of this as training, hm? I want our time together to be enjoyable, but it’s important that you know how to behave. Sir would rather reward you than punish you. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

You straighten up awkwardly, the weight of your arms crossed over your back making it difficult. He’s patient, smiling once you face him upright again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes glimmer at that, and your core clenches, all too aware of the powerful motor resting over your clit. You wanted him to be happy with you, not just because you want a reward, but because you know just how unbearable his punishment would be. “Here’s the plan: I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. If I don’t like your answer, you know what happens. Understood?”

You feel your arms and thighs break out in goosebumps at the thinly veiled threat. “Understood, sir.”

“Then let’s begin. We’ll start with an easy one, hm? How do you address me?”

“Sir.”

“Correct. When should you speak?”

“When spoken to,” you answer automatically, but his head cocks to the side, raising the remote meaningfully. Your mind scrambles. “Wait! And if I have to use the safewords, sir.”

The hand holding the remote lowers again as he nods. “That’s right. I can punish you for forgetting the other rules and move on, but if you ignore that then we can’t play at all, princess.” Hoseok smiles placidly. “Those are the ones we’ve already learnt. Let’s see how good your instincts are.”

You take in a deep breath, eying up the remote warily. This was uncharted territory, so the chance of you making a mistake just went right up. Rather than making any comment, you bite your tongue and wait for him to address you.

“When do you get to cum?” Hoseok asks in an authorial tone.

You pause for a moment, not wanting to blurt out something wrong. “When Sir gives me permission?”

He smiles placidly. “Good. Now; normally with my subs, they come only by my say-so. But I know for you, that isn’t reasonable given you have to play with the others. However there is still something I expect to have control over. Think for a bit; I’ll give you time. What can you not do without my permission?”

You stare at him imploringly but he just waits for your answer. You rack your mind for some clue, running over his words. He only wanted you to cum with his permission, but he was saying sex with the others was fine. So it wasn’t like you couldn’t cum at all without him around... You blink, feeling cold dread settle down your back as you come up blank. “I don’t get it, sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s disappointing.” Even as you brace yourself, the powerful vibrations shock you to your core, more intense than you remember them. Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as you rock your hips and wiggle your torso, body trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as you know you can’t. He holds you like that for what feels like an eternity, though it can’t be more than a minute or two. Finally, just as you feel like you’re going to fall apart, he takes mercy, and the vibrations cease, leaving you gasping.

“The answer I was looking for,” Hoseok explains coolly, “is masturbate. You are not allowed to masturbate as long as I am in the show. If you want that release, you’re to come to me, and I’ll decide if you’ve earned it. Is that clear?”

You open your mouth for a disingenuous yes, but he beats you to the bunch.

“And if you break that rule, don't think I won’t notice. I have mercy for mistakes but I don’t take well to direct disobedience.”

You deflate, lips turning down in a frown. It takes you a moment to commit. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” His eyes glint proudly at the power you’ve handed over to him, and you clench your thighs together, not wanting to admit just how much that look affects you. “I have one last question for you. What would you like from me?”

This feels like a question with no right answer, but still you hesitate. Ask for too much and he might chastise you. “A kiss, please, sir,” you try tentatively.

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle slowly as he smiles, standing up. “How romantic, princess.” You turn your chin up in anticipation, toes curling as he sidesteps the camera and moves closer, leather jacket shifting to reveal tantalising slips of skin, covered by the black sheer mesh. Once in front of you, he bends down painfully slowly, close enough that your eyes slip shut, the lightest brush of his lips on yours and-

He chuckles above you as the vibrations reappear with a vengeance, making you jerk violently and curse.

“Sir! Please!” you cry. Each time the vibrations come, they’re more insufferable, like they’re breaking down your defenses one pulse at a time. “Sir, please stop it, it’s too mu-uch!”

Hoseok turns it down, but not off, so that a gentle thrumming keeps you shuddering. He reaches behind you to tug your hair, pulling your head up to face him as he stands above you, tutting. “Why would I give you what you want?” he asks rhetorically. “You didn’t answer all my questions correctly. Maybe next time, hm?”

The vibrations are now the exact opposite of before - too low to bring you close to your high. “Hobi, plea- Sir, please, make me cum! I tried my best!” You round your eyes and pout, trying to plead with him.

Though he tries to hide it, his poker face falters for just a second. Just a twitch of his eye, a softening of his jaw, but you know you have him.

You let your voice soften even more, the sweetest begging. “I’ll be good for you, sir. Please just let me cum.”

Hoseok lets out a sigh, eyes melting. “Just this once, princess,” he allows, “Sir will go easy on you since you’re just learning.” He smiles at the way you moan in relief once the vibrations pick up again, the divine middle ground between too much and not enough. With your senses so heightened, it’s no surprise to feel the coil in your stomach quickly tightening, egged on by the fond way he strokes your hair, brushing it off your face to drink in your reactions. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe, hips rocking as much as you can without compromising your balance. It’s an overwhelming feeling having your arms still tied behind you. The thought that you aren’t in control of your own pleasure. Considering his prior rule, it doesn’t surprise you that he started with a scene where you didn’t even have the choice to cum without permission. Every time the silk tugs at your wrists or the metal vibe slides slightly with your grinding, it just reminds you of how you’re fully at his mercy, and you can’t wait to feel what that’s like once you finally cum. It’s not quite enough though; so wet, the metal slips more than you’d like and it frustrates you when the pressure isn’t enough, or is in the wrong place. You hiccup a sob when he turns the vibrations up just one more level, so close to your edge you could cry. “Ho-hobi, please, I need more.” You sniff at the way his brows tick. “Sir,” you cry desperately, legs widening in invitation.

Hoseok lets out a low grumble as his jaw flexes. “You’re lucky I’m going easy on you,” he announces, before dropping a hand down and cupping it over your center, pressing the vibrator right over your clit. “You better cum now, princess, I’m getting impatient. You wouldn’t want Producer Shin to walk in right now, hm? Poor man just wants to do his job, not deal with whiny little girls like you who just want to cum. Do you know why I’m not fucking you right now, princess? Because I know you couldn’t help yourself from making a mess. I bet you’re sopping wet in those panties of yours.”

With every sentence, Hoseok grinds the heel of his palm over you, jostling the vibrator against your swollen clit and before you know it, you’re cumming, leaning forward and burying your head in his chest as you latch your thighs around his hand, cresting the high.

He holds you there the whole time, vibrator jumping up another level to make you let out a squeal. As your vision begins to clear and your body returns to normal, the vibrations make you jump and whimper against him, arms flexing aggressively as you fail to pull your hands in front of you, no way of stopping the assault of sensation- unless; “Sir! Turn it off, sir, please!”

Hoseok takes mercy on you and the vibrations cease. As you gasp for breath, the sheer fabric of his shirt itching your cheek, you feel his palms slide over your shoulders and down your back, warm even through your hoodie, and reach for the length of silk. You make a low noise of disapproval at the feeling of being untied, not wanting the scene to be over, but he just shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Your shoulders twinge once your hands fall to your sides, and you follow his instructions to roll them out as he massages the muscles. While his fingers aren’t as heavenly as Taehyung’s, it does ease the ache, and you let him sit you up as he fishes the slick metal bullet out from between your legs, smirking at the way you shudder when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit.

“Now, princess,” he announces lowly, “Shin will be coming back soon, so we need to head out. But I still have one last lesson for you. Are you able to keep going? It’s nothing too crazy, I promise.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat that’s come from your heavy breaths and nod, a soft smile gracing your face with the satisfaction of a good orgasm.

Hoseok hums, pleased, and pats your cheeks warmly before holding up the black silk. “One of the most important things in a scene,” he explains, brushing your hair back with his free hand, his knuckles light against the sensitive skin of your neck, “is trust. So we’re going to take a walk back to the house together, princess. Only you’ll be wearing this.”

Your breath hitches as the silk comes over your eyes, cool on your lids and temples as he ties it in a knot at the back, tight enough that it won’t slip but making sure it isn’t catching your hair or digging in. It’s a new kind of vulnerability, having your hands free but your sight prohibited, and you find your head tilting up blindly, seeking him out in the void.

“Oh, Y/n,” you hear him chant in a whisper, “you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You shiver, hands clutching at him, slippery fabric and sharp teeth of a zip scratching your palms. “Sir,” you say, no words coming to mind but his title as his hands grasp your sides, lifting you off the stool. You stumble a but, hands flying out to steady yourself in the darkness. Your heart races when you realise your hands are empty, and as you wave them around, it’s all open air, feeling deep like a crevasse. “Hobi?”

Hoseok ignores the slip, his voice coming slightly to your right, but at a distance. “Follow my voice, princess. I’ll keep you safe. Come.”

Your mouth hangs open and your feet feel leadened to the floor. As fear begins to roil in your chest, you slide your feet forward, shuffling closer, hands scanning the air in front of you. With no sight, every inch feels like walking up to the edge of a cliff, hands grasping for contact that never comes. Your breath hitches, lungs not expanding fully. “H-hoseok, yellow,” you gasp, eyes tearing at the fear that grips your heart. “I don’t like it.”

“Okay, shh, you’re alright, I’m here,” Hoseok comforts, his voice closer, and you let out a sob of relief when your hands touch the mesh of his shirt, elbows buckling as he pulls you into a tight hug. The restriction on your ribs falls away the moment his chin rests on the crown of your head and his hands rub soothingly at your back. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he murmurs gently, “too far, hm? Are you still okay with the blindfold?”

You sniff and nod, bottom lip trembling so much that you don’t dare speak.

“So not being able to touch me was too much? That’s okay, don’t get upset, we don’t have to do that. Do you think you could walk to the house with me if I hold your hand? Would you like to try that instead?”

As he speaks, he slips a hand into yours, squeezing tightly. You take a steadying breath, feeling those sickly stresses fade away. “I wanna try, Sir,” you decide, voice only wobbling a little.

“Are you sure?” You hum in confirmation, and he rewards you with another soft kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s go, princess. Walk this way with me.”

It’s still scary stepping out blindly, but Hoseok reassures you every few moments, and his hand is like an anchor in the black ocean, keeping you steady. His hands are surprisingly slender, but they just fit into yours all the better, warm and strong and tugging you along slowly.

The first thing you feel once you leave the shed is the spots of rain on your cheeks, air fresh with moisture. Rather than be a negative, however, the lighter downpour soothes you, as well as gives you an incentive to walk faster.

There’s a slight lip where the patio begins, and once Hoseok guides you to step up on it, the rain ceases to hit you, now a soothing patter against the eaves of the house and the roof over the outdoor dining area. The swish of a glass sliding door, and finally you’re led inside, Hoseok warning you about furniture you’re close to so that you don’t trip.

Even as it gets easier with time, you still let out a heavy breath of relief once he slides back a chair at the table and helps you sit, unwinding the knot and baring your eyes to the world once more.

You blink, wincing at the bright lights of the kitchen and dining room, feeling Hoseok’s hands on you, warm voice praising you. Strangely, your mind feels more fuzzy now that it’s over, and you tell Hoseok, rubbing your eyes to try and get your vision to focus on his face.

“Probably subspace,” he answers, taking the chair next to you and holding out his hands, palms up. You frown blearily at him and he just laughs, reaching out for your wrists. You look down and let out a noise of surprise. All your struggling has left harsh red lines circling your wrists, and you hiss as Hoseok gently rubs them, pressing in an almost clinical manner like he’s making sure you haven’t hurt yourself. “Typically the trust exercise alone wouldn’t make someone fall that much, but I suspect cumming first had gotten you halfway there.”

“Okay,” you answer dumbly, making his lips quirk in a smile, letting your wrists down.

“I’m going to get you a drink of water and something sugary and then we’re going to sit down at the couch and watch a movie together, okay?”

“Okay,” you say again, head feeling heavy. Perhaps you’d lie rather than sit on the couch, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You did so well for me today, princess,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you slur happily, waiting for him to duck into the kitchen and retrieve the supplies.

And so for the rest of the morning, the two of you curl up together on the couch, gradually joined by the others, until all eight of you are watching Paddington 2, Jungkook furiously playing a game on his phone to hide the fact that he’s tearing up at one of the climaxes.

It’s easy to let time pass like this; long after you feel fully clear and coherent again, you remain safe in Hoseok’s lazy embrace, his head resting against yours and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Jin and Yoongi bicker about the movie choices as the day goes on, and Taehyung demolishes enough snacks to clear the pantry, but you and Hoseok just relax, enjoying the mutual comfort after your scene.

In fact, you barely notice the afternoon drifting by until Jin stands up and announces you order in some dinner, because it was too late to cook. True to his word, it was almost 8pm, and you didn’t fancy waiting until 10 or later to eat.

It’s not you, or even Jin or Yoongi, but Jimin that notices Namjoon’s change in demeanour. The eight of you are crowded around the coffee table cross-legged (or, like Taehyung, lying on his stomach) in an uncommon silence founded by the delicious food you’re all stuffing into your mouths.

Not all, apparently, as Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. “Namjoon-ah, why aren’t you eating?”

The silence changes, then. No longer the contented hush of eating, but the frozen uncertainty of a social faux pas. You’d only known each other five days and already Jimin was using a very familiar term, one that normally you wouldn’t dare use to someone older than you. Namjoon, however, doesn’t seem offended, but rather sends the younger man a grateful look.

“I’m just not hungry,” he weakly explains, staring mournfully at the steaming dishes in front of him.

“You didn’t eat lunch either,” Jimin points out, making you raise your brows. You’d seen on many occasions that Jimin was an observer - the memory of his hand around your throat still makes you shiver - but to hear it directed at someone else’s wellbeing impressed you.

Namjoon just shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry then.”

Abandoning his own meal and ignoring the gawking stares from the others at the table, Jimin reaches out with his chopsticks, piling food from all of the dishes into Namjoon’s bowl. “You’re going to sit here and eat with us, Namjoon, and then you’re going to tell whoever you feel comfortable telling why you’re upset.”

Namjoon’s face falls, guilty. His fingers fiddle with the hair tucked behind his ears as he watches his portion grow. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he mutters softly.

“You aren’t a burden,” Jimin says firmly, sending him a firm look and sliding a set of chopsticks his way. “Just say thank you and eat.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon says in a small voice, grabbing a piece of pork cutlet first, biting into the crunchy crumb.

With a quiet smile, Jimin turns back to his own food, continuing to dig in. As if that’s the signal for the rest of you, the group returns to their bowls, a satisfied silence falling once again.

After a few mouthfuls, Jin sets his cutlery down, wiping his mouth on a stray napkin. “I think all of us are probably facing some challenges in this situation. No matter who gets voted out and when, we’re the only ones we have right now, so let’s be honest with each other and support each other. We shouldn’t expect Namjoon to be vulnerable with us without being able to do the same. So I’ll start; one thing I’ve been worrying about is that I’ll get my own feelings in the way - whether that’s affection or jealously or competitiveness - and not be able to give you all objective advice. I want you all to see me as a person you can talk to and a shoulder to lean on, so I’m worried if I get too in the game I may no longer be able to do that.”

Finished, Jin returns calmly to eating, pulling a long trail of cheese ramen into from the bowl into his waiting mouth. To your surprise, it’s Jungkook that speaks up next; the boy having kept quiet this whole time.

“I’m worried-” he begins, before his nose twitches violently like he’s fighting the urge to tear up. “I’m worried that I’ll miss you guys. If I get voted out or any of you get voted out. Like; once the competition is over we can still hang out at stuff sometimes, and we can still talk, but it won’t be the same.”

You coo as he presses the back of his hand to his nose, blinking hard. Sitting beside him, you leave your own food and wrap your arms around him in a sideways hug, resting your head on his shoulder. He sniffs, but his head tips to the side to lean against yours, and you feel his body relax into the embrace.

“I worry about that too, Jungkookie,” you admit. “Though my biggest fear is that whoever I vote out each time will hate me for it. I know it’s hard not to take things personal. It’s going to be an impossible decision every week, and I don’t think I could handle it if you got angry and didn’t want to speak to me again.”

“That won’t happen,” Taehyung answers certainly. “You’re so cool, Y/n, and getting a bunch of hot people to fuck you every week is the dream, but I would never want to be in your decision. We all know it’ll suck more for you than it does for us.”

You smile as the other guys at the table nod in agreement, letting out a low hum as Jungkook’s shoulder jostles beneath your head, the boy reaching forward to grab his bowl. As he lifts a hunk of white rice to his mouth, you poke him in the ribs, opening your own lips.

Though you can’t see his face, Jungkook scoffs and you can picture the reluctant grin he must sport as he changes angles, lowering it to your mouth instead. You hum happily once the warm rice fills your mouth, but it soon turns into an indignant squeak as Jungkook pulls out a cut of cooked pork with his chopsticks, eating the much better morsel. He chuckles, feeding you the next strip, and the two of you sit contentedly like that, feeding each other as the conversation continues.

It seems like it’s Hoseok’s turn. He has his gaze internal, biting at his lip. “I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up and say something wrong or do something wrong and then people at my work will think I’m a bad dom. I swear I’ve read Y/n’s limit sheet a million times but I still messed up today.”

“Hobi,” you sigh, voice soft with empathy, “that wasn’t your fault. And you handled it perfectly. Please don’t feel bad.”

Though you know the others have questions - Jimin especially is staring hard at Hoseok, not angry but burning with curiosity - nobody asks, simply letting things move on. Yoongi pats Hoseok on the back from beside him and looks towards the center of the room.

“My concern is with the editing team,” Yoongi explains. “We don’t really have any way of knowing how much is going to be shown in the episodes on the website, and I don’t want people to watch this and get altered perceptions of things. I’m sure it can’t be avoided, but I do sometimes wonder how much the audience even sees.”

“I bet if one of us takes our clothes off, they’ll air this part,” Jin offers between mouthfuls of meat. “If you ever want to make sure something gets on the show, just remember it’s a porn website. I bet I could get five minutes of me talking about the economic state of Poland on the show if someone was going down on me at the time.”

Namjoon chokes on a sip of his water and you laugh heartily at the satisfied grin on Jin’s face. Always one to lighten the mood, the eldest seemed relieved at the way Namjoon blushes, but still chuckles, looking less anxious.

“Alright, then,” the virgin announces shyly. “I’ll get it off my chest. I’ve wanted to make my move this whole week but I keep chickening out. I’m worried that I’ll get to Sunday and not have done anything.”

You straighten up off of Jungkook. “That’s easy, Namjoonie. I’ll just make a move for you. After dinner, let’s go to your room.”

He chuckles nervously, but the whole room burst into a joyous cheer when he nods at you.

“Namjoonie, you casanova!” Hoseok jokes, but you can see how his eyes glimmer with pride, all the guys genuinely happy for him.

Namjoon senses it too, and some of his nerves seem to dissipate. He laughs, rocking his fist like a small punch of victory, and sends you a grateful smile. “Anyway,” he says once the celebration calms down, “we still have Taehyungie and Jimin to hear from.”

“I’ll go first,” Taehyung insists, jumping up from his spot lying on the floor to sit instead, placing his hands palms-down on the table like he’s divulging state secrets. His eyes narrow, his voice lowers. “My deepest, darkest fear is that either I or Jimin-hyung will get voted out before I get the chance to give him a massage.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as everyone oohs at the confession, but he can’t hide the upwards twitch of his lips. “Go on, then,” he allows, cheeks plumped as they fight to hold back his grin. “I need to be loosened up to admit my feelings anyway.”

Taehyung hoots, springing up and stepping around limbs and bodies until he’s sitting on the couch behind Jimin, legs on either side of the older man’s body. “You’ll have to take off your sweater,” Taehyung announces, fingering the cream-coloured fabric around his shoulders, “it’s too thick.”

Once again Jimin surprises you by actually removing his sweater, delicately slipping the ends of the sleeves over his wrists before lifting it up. He’s not shirtless - underneath the sweater is a thin cotton tank, tucked into his white jeans - but it’s the most skin you’ve seen on him, and you gape at his bare arms, lithe and pale.

The atmosphere in the room has changed very suddenly, everyone’s eyes on the pair as Taehyung rubs his palms together, warming them before laying them over Jimin’s shoulders with an excited grin. Jimin sighs almost inaudibly, lips parting as Taehyung begins to work his magic.

“Tell us then, hyung,” the masseuse requests, “what’s eating Park Jimin?”

Jimin’s lids flutter, the tension returning to his face with a frown. “That none of you would like me. That I’d get voted off just to make things less awkward for the rest of you.”

Taehyung’s hands freeze, his face falling. “We love having you here, hyung,” he insists lowly. “You’re a tough egg to crack, but I bet you’re a softie deep down. We’ll get there.”

“Thank you,” Jimin replies shortly, feeling considerably uncomfortable with the eyes on him for once. “I do hope that wasn’t the end of the massage, Tae, you barely sat down.” His tone is flat, but he lifts his head up to send the younger boy a sidelong grin.

Taehyung winks back at him, gently turning Jimin’s head back to face the front. “Of course, not, that was just the warm-up. You’ll be so relaxed when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk up to your room.”

Jimin lets out a little laugh as Taehyung begins pressing his fingers in more deeply, the flesh rippling beneath his touch. The masseuse, however, glances up to the rest of you, jerking his chin away like he’s asking you all to leave. Privacy, he mouths, and you fight the urge to nod in understanding.

Jimin probably wouldn’t let himself relax like that if all of you were just sitting there staring at him; you can see the way he nibbles lightly on his bottom lip that he feels out of his comfort zone.

Jin takes the first iniative, letting out a satisfied sigh and standing up. “I’m full,” he announces, “who’s gonna come help me do the dishes?”

And like that, you all clear out and leave Taehyung and Jimin behind, Jimin’s shoulders dropping in relief when he thinks nobody can see. Instead of helping clear up, Jin tells you to take Namjoon upstairs, and before you can really comprehend it, the two of you are sitting on the end of his bed in his room, kicking your legs out awkwardly.

“Well,” you say after a moment, Namjoon jumping slightly like he hadn’t expected you to speak, “how would you like to do this, Namjoonie? Lying down, sitting up, standing?”

He swallows, fiddling with the ends of his hair. “I think sitting,” he answers. “Could we, um, do it under the covers?”

“The blowjob?” you ask in surprise, and Namjoon nods, cheeks bright red.

“Nobody’s seen me naked before, and it doesn’t matter if I get disqualified for not showing everything because I’m going to get the penalty anyway for not doing it outside.”

“That’s fine,” you coo, “whatever makes you comfortable. How about I turn away while you get undressed?”

He nods, and you face the wall, listening to the sound of him hastily undressing, like he was worried you’d get impatient and turn around.

“You do realise I’m going to see you naked anyway?” you call out. “I can’t suck your dick with my eyes shut. Well-” Your voice lifts up as you consider it. “I suppose I could.”

Namjoon laughs, and you let yourself smile proudly at the sound. “You can turn around now,” he instructs, and you do, smile widening at the way he sits up in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest cutely.

“Namjoonie,” you sigh, stepping over to perch on the side of the bed, “I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready. Are you sure about this? I don’t mind waiting.”

He mulls it over for a moment, chin pressing out as he tenses his jaw. “I think I’ll be fine once we get into it, you know? I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get into it,” you announce, fishing out your phone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Namjoon’s shoulders deflate. “What are you doing?”

You smile softly, selecting a romantic playlist to set the tone a little; a slow, soothing guitar and husky male vocals emanating from your phone. “Setting the mood,” you answer, placing it on his nightstand and turning to him. “You’ve kissed before, yeah?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes widening once you stand up, shimmying out of your clothes. “I- y- mhm. Oh, god.”

“What?” you ask innocently, like you didn’t just get naked in front of him. This whole ‘being filmed 24/7’ thing had done wonders for your body confidence, and so you boldly straddle him, the duvet being the only thing that separates you. “We’ll just start with something you know, then.”

He makes a little muffled squeak of surprise when you press your mouth to his, but it shocks you just how quickly he seems to calm down and kiss you back. Perhaps he was a natural, or he had more experience than he’d let on, but in few short moments he begins to take control of it, deepening it and making your mind hazy with slips of his tongue.

“Wow,” you gasp out between kisses, “how did you learn to - mmph! - kiss like this?”

“Sorry,” he replies, voice already husky with arousal, “I’m excited.”

“Good,” you chime with a light giggle, “are you excited all over?”

“N- Yes,” Namjoon admits, stricken.

“So soon?” you question teasingly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pulling away and clenching his eyes shut like it pains him. “You’re really pretty.”

To hide your blush, you slide a hand down his chest and stomach. “Do you want me to touch you now?”

He nods quickly, jerky motions as his hands fist at his sides. “Shit, can you- This duvet was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey,” you interrupt softly, standing up off him. He makes a low noise of loss and opens his eyes, widening when he’s visually reminded of just how naked you are. “We can take the duvet off, don’t worry. It’s easier this way, too.”

Once he nods his consent, you flip the covers back, revealing his naked body.

Your mouth drops open. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Namjoon frowns, brows knitting together. “That’s not a good reaction,” he says unsurely, hands tucking over his hardness. He’s huge - big enough to rival Seokjin’s - and he’s practically leaking precum like a faucet, his tip looking so red it must be painful.

“Oh, I can assure you it most definitely is,” you gush. “God, I’m so lucky. How did I get this lucky?” you ask yourself in wonder, stradding him again. This time, you sit lower so that you can bend over and take him in your hand, marvelling at the weight of it.

With that simple touch, Namjoon’s head falls back and knocks loudly on the headboard, making him hiss. “Y/n, if you don’t put your mouth on me now, I swear...”

Your eyes widen, mouth in question falling open in shock. “So Namjoon’s a baby dom, hm?”

He lifts his head off the wall, staring at you like he can’t believe the words that came from his own lips. “Sorry, was that rude? I’m going crazy, I want you so bad.”

“Don’t apologise,” you croon, running a single nail lightly up his side, “I like it. I’m going to suck you off now, okay? Tell me what feels good.”

He nods, a small amount of his prior nerves returning, but before they can take over, you dip your head, wrapping your lips around his tip and simply sucking off the precum that pools there.

“Fuck! God, oh my god,” Namjoon all-but shouts, and you can’t help but chuckle around him. “Don’t laugh,” he chastises, a hand winding its way in your hair to pull it back from your face.

You glance up at him, lips still on him, and slowly sink down, letting his hardness fill your mouth all the way to the back. He’s barely halfway in, but when you flick your tongue against one of the veins on his underside, it looks like he’s reached nirvana. You pull up, licking your lips, and use your hand to spread the wetness around his length. “Good?”

“Good, just keep - fuck - keep going.” You grin when his lips press together and he visibly forces himself from saying please, now that you’ve said you liked his dominant streak.

Always one to please, you drop your mouth onto him again, this time building up into a bobbing rhythm, a salty tang hitting your tongue as sweat and precum mingle. As you jerk off what can’t fit in your mouth, Namjoon curses lowly and his hips rise off the bed, pushing himself deeper so that his tip begins to breach your throat. You gag in shock, but he just groans louder at the obscene noise.

Expecting him to do it again, you try and relax your throat, but instead you feel tugging on your scalp as he pulls you up by your hair. He’s still slow enough to be painless, but he seems more comfortable taking some control and it makes you grin when you get pulled up off him, sucking air into your lungs.

“I want to try something,” Namjoon admits with wide, lust-ridden eyes. “I won’t push if you don’t want to.” He swallows, fingers tightening in your hair. “Can I fuck your face?”

Your mouth drops open even more, but your grin only broadens. “Fuck, yes,” you enthuse. “Is like this okay, or do you wanna change positions?”

“Like this,” he says, and his other arm moves down so that he can hold your head with both hands, fingers brushing back the hair that’s fallen in your face. “Just hit me if it’s too much?”

Your heart warms at the thought of him worrying about your safety, and you nod, taking the initiative to lean down, opening your mouth to rest his tip on your tongue, glancing up at him.

“Okay,” he breathes, and begins.

Rather than fucking up into you, he first starts by guiding you up and down on his cock with his grip on your head, each time a little lower, a little deeper down the back of your throat like he’s readying you. After only a few pulls up and down, his head tips back again, smacking noisily against the headboard as he speeds up, eyes shutting in pleasure.

It’s only once his eyes have closed that his hips begin to thrust up too. Like he’s letting himself get lost in the pleasure and just feel. You get lost in it, too. It’s easy to go passive like a doll, just focusing on the way he fills your throat. The way he hisses when you gag, and moans when you swirl your tongue in time with his thrusts.

Your eyes tear up with the intensity of it, breathing through your nose and trying not to cough on him, but you’re in heaven, a hand slipping down between your legs to give yourself some much-needed friction.

It’s once you start touching yourself that everything suddenly happens much faster. The rush of pleasure makes you moan around him, which makes him open his eyes blearily to look down at you, slowling his thrusts when he sees your hand between your legs. Once he realises what you’re doing, he curses again, and his hips pick up their speed, surpassing it until you’re gagging on every thrust, your jaw aching and tears streaming, but still you rock against your hand and moan onto him, caught in the pleasure of feeling, watching, and hearing him fall apart as you fall apart yourself.

As you grow close, a hair’s breadth away from orgasm, you reach your free hand between his legs and cup his balls, softly rolling them in your grasp.

Namjoon shouts as he reaches his orgasm, and suddenly he’s pressing you still against him, cumming down your throat with a stream of intense groans, thighs shaking.

You can’t catch your breath; his cock triggering your gag reflex but staying deep inside you, and it’s that desperation, that lack of control that brings you over the edge yourself, soaking your hand and the sheets below it with the force of your orgasm. He lifts you up as you’re riding your high, spent himself, but the sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs only heightens your pleasure, and you collapse, face pressed against his stomach as you cum and suck in air and cum some more.

Your own legs are shaking by the time you finish, core throbbing with aftershocks, and it takes all of your energy to push yourself up beside him so that you can lie against his bare chest again.

The room is filled with nothing but panting for a few moments, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you tight.

Namjoon is the first to speak, his voice low even in the silence of his bedroom. “Will you stay?”

You swallow back the hoarseness in your throat, using your foot to hook the duvet back up and over your lower halves, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll stay.”

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lucky-dreamfisher · 3 years

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Queer Subtext in The Illusion of Living - Part 3/?

Yes, you read that right, there will be more parts. This book is a gift that keeps on giving.

As Joey had to work at his father’s shop from a young age, he didn’t really have friends, up until he joined the army at 15 and met Donaldson and Eckhart, as well as Nathan Arch. All three of whom aggressively pressured him to comply with heteronormative behavior: bullying him to go on dates with the army girls, and making fun of him for liking girl stuff.

“The men made fun of me: "Reading a romance there, Drew?" (...) I knew before Donaldson and Eckhart had teased me that supposedly men who were "real men" as someone, maybe Arch, had put it, read about real subjects, nonfiction.” TIOL, page 62

That experience must have left a deep mark on him, because this ‘real man’ complex resurfaces later in TIOL, and even in DCTL:

But his friends also sexted him from across the ocean, which he still recalls fondly decades later:

“Eckhart and Donaldson were still alive, sending me letters with dirty limericks from overseas.” TIOL, page 113

Also worth noting is the difference in how he feels about women asking him to go out versus men doing the same.

“When they were shipped overseas, I genuinely missed them. They were the first gents I'd ever met who could convince me to go out and spend an evening dancing and socializing instead of studying. They showed me that there was some-thing positive about escaping the daily grind that way.

(...)

I had once tried to explain to them that it wasn't that I didn't like girls, or didn't enjoy their company, I just didn't have time for them. I didn't want to go out on nights I needed to stay in.” TIOL, page 28

Girls ask me out = girls bad :(

Boys ask me out = boys hot :)

But then we get to Detective Sinclair, and things get… interesting.

Joey meets Detective Sinclair shortly after leaving the army and moving to New York in 1920, when the man comes to question him about the mysterious murder of his old army colleague. After noting the similarity between the detective and that of Joey’s (mostly gay) neighbors in Greenwich Village, Joey invites him over to his apartment, where they immediately proceed to establish which of them is the alpha male, and it isn’t Joey:

“Once again Detective Adam Sinclair didn't show any sign that he heard me, that he agreed or didn't with my invitation, he just walked into my studio and stood in the middle of the room. He looked around, slowly, taking in the space.” TIOL, page 99

“Too bad.” He flicked the butt of his second cigarette onto my floor and stepped on it thoughtfully. I wasn't going to tell him how rude that was. I wanted the gig and it was obvious he knew. It was also obvious he wanted me to say something about the cigarette.” TIOL, page 110

Joey is utterly fascinated by this display of complete lack of respect for him and begs the detective to let him be his apprentice. He lies about having an interest in becoming a detective someday, but in reality he gives no shit about the work, or the case. His interest is solely in Sinclair.

“(...)this fellow fascinated me.” TIOL, page 100

“I rushed over to my one window to watch as he left the building. He was a hulking shadow again, wandering away from my building without a glance backward. A fantastic character really.” TIOL, page 110

“Detective Sinclair didn't say anything more and again I was following him. I didn't know how he chose who to talk to, and by the time the evening was over I'd forgotten to ask. (...) I tried to do my own detective work about the detective as he went about asking questions.” TIOL, page 115

This wouldn’t be the only time he gets instantly smitten by a man with a cigarette and an air of indifference, and the similarity between Sinclair and Sammy’s introduction is pretty interesting:

"And what's a Joey Drew Studios?" asked Sammy, lighting a cigarette from the darkness by the stone wall at the edge of the terrace. Yes, he said it in that dismissive tone. I didn't understand why he needed to talk to me like that.” TIOL, page 188

Joey himself wonders whether the detective’s behavior is a result of him correctly predicting Joey’s… preferences.

“Fascinating. Detective Sinclair's tone was very different here. He was less curt talking to her, there was a softness almost in his speech. It occurred to me that he was attempting to reflect what he saw in her personality to make her more comfortable. Trying to give her what she wanted without her knowing she wanted anything. It made me wonder what trick he'd used with me. I didn't like the idea, but it was a very interesting one.” TIOL, page 188

So the text confirms that Joey has a type, and that type seems to be men, who refuse to give him the attention he craves (and smoke cigarettes, apparently. Resisting the urge to make a joke about phallic symbolism).

And boy, does Joey crave Sinclair’s attention!

You see, even though solving the case was not at all interesting to Joey, there was something else, which was of great importance to him: making sure that Sinclair finds him physically attractive.

“He was memorizing it, adding it to the appendix of his story. I was determined not to be some small character who might not even rate a name. I wasn't going to be a description only, "Tall, lean, handsome young man" or the like.” TIOL, page 100

“He wore his large overcoat and hat like always, his five o'clock shadow too, which made me all the more annoyed that I'd cared to look presentable. Not that I wouldn't have dressed appropriately—such things matter—I just resented I had cared as much as I had about the detective's particular opinion. I got in next to him with-out any conversation. Without really any sign he noticed me at all. He just stared forward as the car drove off, and I was so grumpy from the train ride I was happy to sit in silence.” TIOL, page 129

When senpai doesn’t notice you :(

“I assumed that Detective Sinclair had opinions on everyone, and probably bad opinions. Just like he thought I couldn't look presentable when I most certainly could.” TIOL, page 130

Note that at no point in the story does Sinclair give any indication of his opinion about Joey’s appearance. This is happening entirely inside Joey’s own mind.

In addition to his looks, Joey is also deeply concerned about not appearing childish and weak in front of the detective:

“My eyes were watering now It looked like I was crying and I felt humiliated at the thought.” TIOL, page 122

“I felt even more annoyed now, and rightfully so. Detective Sinclair had said I could come along on his investigations, obviously it had been a lie. It felt very much like he didn't want me there for any of the one-on-ones, like I'd spoil it or something. Quite frankly, I didn’t enjoy being treated like a child this way.

“You can take a seat, Joey," said Detective Sinclair. I rolled my eyes inwardly; nope, did not enjoy being treated like a child at all. "Sit next to me, love," said Mrs. Pepper, enthusiastically petting the spot beside her. I smiled because she was being kind and I did as she requested.” TIOL, page 133

Once again we see a stark contrast in how he reacts to a man offering him a seat vs a woman doing the same. He wants Sinclair to treat him as an equal, an adult, a “real man”, and he doesn’t much care about the opinion of Mrs. Pepper.

And then this happens:

"Detective Sinclair, thank you for your time, (...)You should leave, no one needs you anymore!” Detective Sinclair didn't say anything back. That was when I finally saw the man behind the character. A weak man who needed validation just like the rest of them. (...) I felt uncomfortable, a little disgusted even. Here was a man I'd admired despite it all, and here he was at the end, with nothing. I saw it now, the other illusion: the role of detective he was wearing, indifferent, cold, emotionless. None of it was true. (...)I knew he wanted me to go with him, but I didn't. His part in my story was done now.” TIOL, page 144

I think this moment speaks more about Joey’s character than it does about Sinclair’s. After spending dozens of pages seeking validation and approval from this man, Joey instantly discards him the moment he realizes that Sinclair isn’t actually the living embodiment of this idealized image of a “Real Man” that he has internalized in his formative years.

Perhaps the thing that initially drove him to Sinclair (and later to Sammy) was the qualities he saw in them, that he wishes he could possess himself. Perhaps he has convinced himself that if he could get these men to recognize him as an equal, a fellow “god”, his “illusion” would finally be complete and he could truly live up to the standards set by the society he was raised in.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #batim #bendy: the illusion of living #detective adam sinclair #sammy lawrence #joey drew #nathan arch #dreamfisher certified

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thatsamericano · 3 years

Text

I Know My Love Should Be Celebrated, But You Tolerate It

Pairing: America/Romano, human AU

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, mild angst and some homophobia from human OCs.

Word Count: 2100

Summary: Alfred needs to tell his mother he’s engaged, but he knows she won’t be happy for him the way Matthew was when he got the news.

Alfred was sitting on the couch with his hand clasped in Savino’s, staring at the cell phone that was resting on the coffee table. Part of him didn’t want to pick it up to tell his mother that he was engaged now, because he knew she wouldn’t have the reaction he was hoping for.

Last night, he’d called Mattie only a few minutes after Savino had proposed. Matthew said congratulations, told Alfred he was happy for him, and most importantly, sounded completely sincere and not just like he was saying what he was supposed to. He listened while Alfred gushed about the proposal and possible wedding plans and chuckled quietly at some of Alfred’s more outlandish ideas. He was just as amused as he would’ve been if they’d been there in person and he’d been able to see Savino curled up into his side, blushing and with that fond, disbelieving grin only Alfred could put on his face. They talked for an hour and a half until Savino pointed out that it was past midnight, and Matthew might need to end the call so he could get enough sleep before he had to go into work the next day.

Alfred knew that his mother wouldn’t react like that. The first time he’d brought Vinny home to meet his family, his father shook his head and walked out of the room while muttering under his breath. Alfred had heard the car starting up outside as his mom gave them an extremely fake smile and asked them if they’d like something to drink. Later, she’d pulled Alfred aside to scold him for not “warning” his parents ahead of time that Savino was his boyfriend, not just his friend. She asked about his sexuality, and he hadn’t been able to answer to her satisfaction, because to him it wasn’t a question of men vs. women. It was a question of Savino vs. every other human being on the planet. If he couldn’t be with Vinny, he’d rather be with no one at all.

It had been two years since then, but Alfred could still vividly remember the look his mom gave him, which was identical to the look she’d give Baxter when he was a puppy and peed on the carpet. Like she loved him, because Alfred was her son and she had no other choice, but was deeply, deeply disappointed in him.

Alfred stared at the phone and jiggled his leg nervously. Savino squeezed his hand.

“You’ll have to pick up the phone eventually, tesoro.”

Alfred heaved out a sigh. “I know. It’s not like I don’t wanna tell her. I wanna tell everybody. Last night, when you asked me to marry you, was the happiest moment of my life. But I know if I tell her, she’s gonna try to make me change my mind.”

Savino smiled weakly. “But she’s not going to be able to, is she?”

Alfred shook his head and glanced back at his cell phone. “No. Nothing could ever make me change my mind.”

Vinny rubbed his hand over the back of Alfred’s hand. “I’ll be here when you call her. You won’t have to do this alone.”

He could do it. With Vinny holding his hand, he could swallow down his anxiety and tell his parents. Alfred picked up his cell phone, went to his contacts, and called his mom.

The phone rang twice before his mom answered. “Hello, Alfred.”

“Hey, Mom. I’ve got some big news to share with you.” He figured it was best to tell her right away. He glanced over at his fiancé, who was nodding in approval.

“Is it good news?”

“The best news. I’m engaged. Vinny asked me to marry him last night.” Alfred grinned, because it felt amazing to say that out loud. Some part of Alfred still couldn’t believe it was real. He was gonna marry Vinny, who was smirking because he knew it was taking every ounce of Alfred’s self-control to avoid squealing or screaming down the phone line like he had when he called Mattie the night before. Savino was adorable 24/7, but especially when he smirked like that, like he was the lucky one in this relationship. Alfred would’ve kissed him if he wasn’t waiting to hear his mom’s reaction.

He waited. And he waited. As he waited, the grin gradually fell away from his face. Alfred hadn’t been expecting anything different, but the way she couldn’t even feign a congratulations hurt.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I suppose you won’t be holding the, uh, ceremony, in a church, will you?”

“I don’t know. Vinny and I haven’t talked about that yet.” He knew they couldn’t get married in the church Alfred had been raised in, and that they couldn’t have a Catholic wedding either. Alfred noticed how she had avoided the word wedding but pretended everything was still fine.

“Will there be a gift registry?”

Alfred frowned. “Like I said, I don’t know. We just got engaged last night.”

“Then why did you call me?” His mom sounded irritated, like she had when he was five and wanted to show her a drawing he did in kindergarten and ran in while she was in the middle of doing work in her home office. That dismissal had hurt at the time, but not as much as telling his mom he was engaged and getting the same kind of reaction as a little kid clamoring for attention while their parent had something more important to focus on.

Alfred shrunk down mentally to that same age. “I just wanted to tell you because you’re my mom. I’m happy, so I thought maybe you’d be happy for me, even if you can’t be proud of me.” Tears were pricking at his eyes, and Alfred bit his lip so his mother couldn’t hear how upset he was. Savino scooted closer, so that he was pressed up against Alfred’s side. He couldn’t be closer without crawling onto Alfred’s lap.

His mother sighed, and she sounded so tired. Tired of him more than anything else. “Alfred, your father and I have been patient about this. We’ve been as tolerant as we can be.”

Alfred laughed miserably. “Sure. Dad won’t even acknowledge Vinny exists, and you tell all your snooty friends that Vinny is my roommate instead of my boyfriend. But you haven’t disowned me yet, so I’m supposed to be grateful, right?”

“There’s no need for you to get so hostile.”

Right. Because it wasn’t hostile for his parents to treat his fiancé like shit and to act like him being in love and happy was something horrible they had to tolerate and be patient about. Alfred bit his tongue to keep those nasty thoughts inside his head, and Savino nuzzled into his neck.

“I’m so sorry she’s doing this to you, caro,” Vinny murmured. Alfred silently kissed the top of his head and listened as his mother started lecturing him again.

“You’re so young. I remember being that age. You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“I’m older than you were when you married Dad.”

His mother ignored what he said, just like he’d known she would. “I love you, Alfie. And it’s because I love you that I’m trying to help you avoid making a mistake you’ll end up regretting someday.”

Tears were leaking out of his eyes, but Alfred was so angry that his words came out as a growl rather than pathetic blubbering. Vinny deserved better than this bullshit. “Savino is the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. I told you that two goddamn years ago. He’s been nothing but respectful to you and dad, but you guys never even gave him a chance. He isn’t a mistake, and I don’t regret anything about being with him. The only thing I regret is listening to you put him down for so fucking long.”

“Alfred, that’s—”

“I’m done. Call me when you can at least pretend to love me for who I am, instead of who you want me to be.” Alfred hung up the phone before his mother could say anything else, and Vinny immediately shifted onto his lap and started wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

Alfred sobbed harder at Savino’s kindness. “I hate her. I hate her so much for trying to talk me out of marrying you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and the only reason she can’t see it is because you’re a guy.”

Savino kissed his face and made soothing noises. “I love you so much. I wanted to rip her to shreds the second she made you cry.”

Alfred laughed wetly. “You sound so hot when you say stuff like that.”

Savino rolled his eyes and blushed at the compliment, like he blushed every single time Alfred tried to seduce him, no matter how cheesy his attempt was. “Idiota.”

Alfred surged up to kiss his fiancé, and Savino made a muffled sound of confusion but reciprocated a second later. Vinny was being too adorable and perfect for Alfred to not kiss him, but that wasn’t the only reason. He needed to feel something real, something lasting that wasn’t the rejection of the woman who brought him into this world. Savino’s hands planted on his shoulders, the warm weight of his body on top of him, and the soft pressure of their lips pressed together made Alfred feel safe and loved in a way nothing else could.

By the time they separated, Alfred was no longer crying. He felt significantly calmer as he petted Savino’s hair. “I don’t think I want my parents at the wedding.” It wasn’t a decision he would ever feel completely okay about. In an ideal world, his parents would be there in the front row, crying nostalgic tears as they watched him get married because they were so proud of him. But Alfred didn’t live in an ideal world, and he couldn’t keep pretending that he did.

Savino pressed a tiny kiss to his temple. “If you don’t want them there, then we won’t invite them. We should invite people who can celebrate with us. Unless your parents have a miraculous change of heart, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Alfred scoffed. “If they decided to come, they’d probably act like they were going to my funeral instead of my wedding. Or they’d try to convince me I shouldn’t marry you, and I’d lose it on them a lot worse than I did today.” Alfred had been putting up with his mother’s bullshit for far too long, and he probably would’ve continued to put up with it if she had only been insulting him and not his fiancé. Alfred could take his parents’ disapproval, but he wouldn’t listen to anyone implying that Vinny wasn’t good enough for him.

Savino hummed in consideration. “We shouldn’t tell them until after the fact. Send them a postcard when we’re on our honeymoon and it’s too late for them to do anything about it.”

Alfred chuckled. “That sounds devious. I like it.” He grinned and rubbed his hands up and down Vinny’s thighs. “You should make evil plans more often. It’s sexy as hell.”

Savino snorted in disbelief, but he was grinning in the flattered, flustered way Alfred was so familiar with as he fiddled with the top button of Alfred’s shirt. “Amore, you’re hopeless. You think the way I breathe is sexy.”

“Anyone with working eyes or ears would. Which makes me a pretty lucky guy.” Alfred winked up at him, which he’d learned early on was a good way to flirt with Vinny. He wasn’t really good at this whole flirting thing, since Vinny was the only person he’d ever wanted to flirt with. All he’d ever been able to do was be a little too honest, recite lines from TV or movies, wink, and carry heavy stuff to show off his muscles. Miraculously, his clumsy attempts had actually worked.

They were working pretty well now, obviously, because Savino was leaning in less than an inch away from his mouth. “We’re both lucky, Fredo. Ti amo.”

Hearing that made Alfred weak-kneed even though he was sitting down. When Savino leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him, a shiver swept through him, even though he wasn’t cold. He grabbed at the back of Vinny’s neck and moaned when Vinny licked his way into his mouth. His mother’s reaction to his engagement, along with any other problems he had, ceased to exist as long as his fiancé was kissing him.

#hetalia #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post #tw homophobia

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fablesrose · 3 years

Text

Tell Me a Story 3

Summary: It’s go time

Word count: 2,188

Pairing: cop?!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: Crack

Warnings: shooting

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

A/n: For @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo. This only has a little bit of crack, but it was sure fun to write! One more part after this!

“Hey Angel.”

“Hey Hot Shot,” I smiled as I held my phone to my ear, the nicknames had settled in for us over the past couple of weeks, and I couldn’t deny that I liked using them. “The next monthly meeting is tonight, you ready to put on a show?”

He laughed, “Like it’s ever an act with you sweetheart.”

I snorted, “Yeah, sure.” I sighed, “Alright, for real though, be a loving boyfriend, but don’t be stupid.”

“Roger roger.”

“I guess I’ll meet you there.”

“Yup.” He hung up the phone promptly, leaving me in silence.

I rubbed my hands all over my face, “He’s a professional who’s only acting this way to make it natural and so he can get some sort of promotion. Don’t look too far into it. You’re probably going to go to prison anyway once this is all over with.” Despite telling myself this over and over, it really didn’t make a difference. I groaned and tried to force my face to relax from the smile I was wearing.

I banged my head once against a nearby wall, “Okay, time to get ready to get this over with.”

Before I knew it I was watching Dean pull up and park near my apartment as I walked to the meeting building.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your car?”

“Only every time you see her,” Dean fell into stride beside me.

“I thought we were gonna meet there.”

Dean grabbed my hand, “And how would that look, the boyfriend not escorting his very important girlfriend into an extremely dangerous crowd?”

“Fair point,” I squeezed his hand, smiling softly to myself.

The door squeaked as we opened it, giggling at nothing.

“Glad you love birds could join us.” Chuck sat at the front of the room, looking rather impatient.

I took my place, Dean beside me, and nodded soberly.

“Let’s begin.”

Naomi stepped forward, “Of course, sir. I have some things that need to be looked-”

“I don’t care about that,” Chuck waved his hand as he cut her off.

It took everything in me not to laugh.

“Some of my… sources, have told me that Doctor Hess wants to make a deal with me.”

There was a couple beats of silence before Meg got brave, “Uh, and who is that?”

“The leader of the Lettermen, obviously.”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Letterboys? Really?”

“Yes,” Chuck snapped at us, trying to shut us up, “and Y/n is going to set it all up.”

That sobered me up quickly, “Pardon?”

“You are going to set up the deal. You’re gonna be our middle man.”

I felt my insides shrivel. What he means is that I’ll be the scapegoat.

“Sir, I’d like to accompany her on this assignment if you don’t mind,” Dean said as he took a half step forward.

“I do mind. Starling will be working this alone, directly with me.”

“But sir-”

I placed a hand on his arm, “Dean.” I shook my head, telling him it wasn’t worth it.

He set his jaw and didn’t press any further.

“So, It’s settled then,” Chuck clapped his hands together once, “that’ll be all, you’re dismissed.”

I glanced at Naomi who looked annoyed at not getting her business done, but she wasn’t brave enough to get snapped at again.

It wasn’t much time later when me and Dean were walking back, alone again.

“Why did you do that?”

“Dean-”

“Why did you stop me from pairing up with you?”

“Because, you were doing a great job at being a loving boyfriend, but I also told you not to be stupid. What you were about to do was incredibly stupid.”

“So you’re gonna do it alone?!” Dean sounded angry, I wasn’t exactly sure why.

I turned to face him, “Yeah, I am! I’ve done stuff like this before, and I’ll have to do it again! But do you understand what this means for us??”

“No, I don’t.”

I grabbed him by the shoulders, “We can do something with this… Maybe I can…”

“We can do some sort of sting operation,” Dean quieted down like he was understanding.

“Exactly! I’ll set something up, I’ll feed you all the information...” I nodded my head, “we can do this.”

“Fine,” he turned and started walking again, “you’re still going to be doing most of this alone though.”

“Don’t worry Dean, I won’t mess it up.”

I thought I heard Dean mumble something, but I didn’t ask what it was. The rest of the walk was quiet until we reached where his car was parked.

I ran my hand along her, looking for scratches that didn’t exist.

“Stay safe, alright? I can’t be losing you now, Angel.”

“I will, don’t you worry Hot Shot.” I smiled at waved as he started her up and drove away.

Let’s cut to me probably doing something stupid, but it is the fastest way to get stuff done in these situations.

“I think you’re on the wrong side of town, ma’am.” A group of boys approached me as I walked a quiet street, deep in Lettermen territory.

I sighed, “You’re probably right, but I also heard through the grapevine that a Doctor Hess wants to make a deal. That ring any bells?”

They all glanced at each other before one addressed me, “Stay here.”

I leaned against a nearby building, choosing not to answer him vocally.

After a while, a man closer to my own age approached me.

“Doctor Hess?”

He laughed, “No, my name is Mick Davies. I’m more of a spokesperson. And I’m assuming you’re not Chuck.”

I smiled back at him, both of us keeping our distance, “Yeah, you wish. It’s Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

His smile dropped into a more serious expression, “You are correct when you mentioned a deal. Details are still in need of some finalizing, of course, but the basics are, if you share with us some of your… resources that we hear you have, helping us get on our feet, we’ll give you a part of the profits and keep our boys on our side of the line.”

“Intriguing...” This could be big. If I played my cards right, I could maybe bring down the mobs on both sides of the city. Now to play some cards… “If we come to an agreement of terms, Chuck wants a face to face settlement to seal the deal.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” He pulled out a card from his pocket, “My contact information, so we can work out the details before the deal.”

I stepped forward and took it, “Well, it’s been a pleasure, hope I see the least amount possible.”

“Likewise.”

And like that we both turned and went out opposite directions.

That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe this will be easy.

But now to convince Chuck.

“They want the sealing of the deal face to face or it won’t happen.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe this will be easy.

Now to tell Dean the good news!

“Dean, call me back.”

“Dean, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Hot Shot, if you don’t answer this damn phone I swear I’m not going put this meeting up.”

Why was this not easy.

The meeting was set. It was to happen in an isolated location just outside of town, two weeks away. Chuck was going to bring the goods, loads of weapons and drugs. I had to be there to back Chuck up, as I’m sure Mick would be there to do the same for this Doctor Hess.

“Dean, I sent the information to your phone, please be there with as many men as possible. From your old job, just to be safe.”

I wanted to actually talk to him. I shouldn’t want that. I’ve gotten too close. It doesn’t matter anymore though. He’s stopped talking to me mid job. The worst case scenario is that I somehow get found out and killed. The absolute best case scenario is that everyone goes to jail except me. The one I was fearing most though was the one where I never see Dean again. Unfortunately there were a bunch of options where that happens.

I kept telling myself that it was just a job to him. That this would benefit him. That he would never want to associate with someone from the mafia in normal circumstances.

Maybe going to jail would be good for me.

My phone rang with an unknown number popping up on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey Angel, sorry, I broke my phone.”

“God dammit!” All that worrying for nothing. All the stress that he was somehow dead or leaving me to deal with Chuck by myself. Wasted.

“What?”

“I have been trying to reach you all day. I got the meeting set up, its in two weeks. I’ll send you the place. Both Chuck and Doctor Hess are going to be there with a metric ton of damning evidence in the form of illegal weapons and drugs.”

“That… is awesome!”

“I know right?? I’m gonna need you to bring in all your people.” I soaked it in for a couple of breathes, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he’s arrested.”

“You’re not going to be there.” His voice was firm, it was commanding like there was no room for argument.

“Dean...” I spoke regretfully, oh how I wish I could listen to him, “if I’m not there, this all falls apart. This isn’t a personal choice, I have to be there.”

“You could get hurt.”

“Same with every day of my life.”

He sighed, “Fine, but you’re gonna wear a wire so we can communicate.”

“Dean, Chuck may be stupid enough to let you in as a cop, and he may be stupid enough to do this meeting face to face, but he’s not stupid enough-” I paused, “I take that back, he may be that stupid.”

“So it’s settled, you’re going to wear a wire, and I’m gonna bring in all the law enforcement fire power you could ever dream of.”

I laughed, “Deal.”

The meeting came all too quickly. I was wearing a wire, like Dean asked me, but I did not enjoy it, it seemed to be all that was on my mind. Everyone arrived separately. It was decided that I would arrive first and scout out the area, kicking out any lurkers. Then Mick was to show, then the bosses.

Dean was talking in my ear, telling me that they were ready, that anytime now Chuck and Doctor Hess was going to be arrested.

“The profits of the supplies will be split 70/30 right?” Chuck was chatting with Doctor Hess, me and Mick farther out.

Hess huffed, “That’s hardly enough to cover our other expenses, 50/50 split.”

“Come on Doc, there has to be something in it for me, 60/40.”

Her stare was withering, but Chuck was always an idiot, “Fine.”

They shook on it and Chuck directed her to the product a little ways away.

“Chopper is coming in to get eyes, then we’ll fall in,” Dean said.

I hummed discretely to tell him I heard and started to glance around the dark sky, supposedly looking for stars.

Eventually the helicopter flew in with a spotlight shining down on us.

“Finally,” I spoke out loud, glad this was going to be over.

But I might have spoken a bit too loudly since Chuck pulled out a gun, “You bitch!”

I faced him, my arms crossed against my chest, “Been called a lot worse you motherfucker.”

“FBI! Drop the weapon!” Dean was at the front of the group in an FBI vest, aiming his gun at Chuck. The rest of the agents surrounded the area and quickly started arresting Hess and Mick.

Chuck hesitated, but in the end he shot at me. I tried to move quickly but he still grazed my shoulder. Chuck looked like he wanted to shoot me again, but Dean took two shots before he could, one to the hand holding the gun and another to his leg, effectively making him drop the gun and fall to the ground. Dean directed a couple of agents to Chuck while he ran over to me.

“Man, you really are a hot shot Hot Shot.” I laughed as I pressed a hand against my shoulder.

“I can’t believe you just stood there as Chuck aimed a gun at you. That is so dangerous,” he made sure I was comfortable before he called for a medic.

“Chuck isn’t that great with precision weapons, look, he just grazed me!” I laid my clean hand on his arm, “Thank you. This means so much to me, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

The medics came and started to push Dean back so she could get to me.

“You helped get Sam out, how ‘bout we stay in touch and we’ll call it even?”

I nodded, “You got it Hot Shot.”

“They’ll take good care of you, Angel.”

Best Buds: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

TMAS: @flamencodiva

#dean x reader #cop!dean #mafia!reader #spncreatorsdaily #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #make me feel bingo #fbi!dean #dean winchester #crack #tell me a story 3

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letitrainathousandflames · 3 years

Text

There Was No Father

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: force pregnancy, forced pregnancy, force rape (technically), sith mind tricks, foreshadowing, slavery, sexual slavery mention, childbirth, ask to tag

The atmosphere is hot, stifling. The black-haired woman squints at the sunlight, standing in line with other slaves, some human like her, others from different species.

The only thing she carries from the life she had before slavery is the name her mother had given her. Shmi. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture her mother’s face, feel the scent and warmth of her embrace back when she was only a child.

Now Shmi is twenty-eight, and her mother is long gone, worked to death as a slave at a mining planet. Her current owner, an angry-looking Rodian, pokes a nautolan slave with a shock staff. The nautolan screams.

“Fix that posture!” The slave master barks “We have a very important client arriving! If any of you wanna be purchased by this rich looking fellow, you better look decent and get me a good deal!”

The slave master walks away, most likely to greet the new customer.

Shmi sighs heavily, squaring her shoulders as best as she can with little hope. She doubts any new master will be much different from this one, of the one before. Being a slave is always a nightmare and all she could hope is that this one wouldn’t be amused by hitting her or not allowing her to eat.

She hears her master approaching and keep her eyes low on the dirt. She knows better than daring to look a potential buyer in the eyes without permission.

“-sure you don’t want to take off that cape? It’s very hot out here, sir. I hear the only place hotter than this is Tattooine, a couple of sectors away. If this one sun is nearly baking me alive, can’t imagine what two of ‘em must be like. By the way, where did you say you were from?”

Shmi hears a voice that is somehow soft spoken but at the same time carries a coldness that’s sends shivers down her spine.

“That is none of your business.”

Her master seems displeased at that.

“Now, listen, there is no need to-”

Shmi could feel the temperature drop, which would be pleasant any other day in this scorching planet, but all she could do was shiver, her entire body tensing up.

“I have crossed several systems looking for something that is in your possession. I do not have time to exchange inane words with an ignorant creature in this speck of uselessness you call a planet. You will show me your slaves, now."

The slaves held their breath, already anticipating their master's explosive outburst. Instead, he spoke in a dazed tone:

"I will show you my slaves now..." at the corner of her eye, Shmi could see the master and a man clad in a black cloak stand before a lean, battered wookiee "This one's mighty strong, good for hefting heavy stuff, can work for hours on end-"

"No. This isn't what I'm looking for."

"Well, then there is this human here, he's good at fixing stuff, got a couple droids back in business when-"

"This is not the one."

They kept going through the line quickly, approaching Shmi at every step and every discarded option. Shmi swallowed down, setting her jaw. At their steady approaching, she felt colder and colder, shivers creeping down her spine. Her breathing was shallow, her chest feeling tight.

The man in the cloak stood right in front of her, and Shmi felt like she was being engulfed by the cold, her body sweaty from the weather but every hair on her body standing up with her shivers. Her eyes were still on the ground, and she could notice the expensive material of the man's cloak and the robes underneath it, everything black, a strange choice of clothes for such a hot environment.

"...this one. Where did you find her?"

"Ah, I bought her off at an auction in Saleucami. Don't be fooled by her frail looks - this one is strong, can work all day long even without food."

The man's sharp tone shifted into a much softer, gentler one.

"Look at me, young one."

"Ah, sir, don't bother talking to the slave, I can tell you everything you need to know-"

"You will stop talking now." the man spoke harshly to the master "I can appraise her worth myself."

Once again, unexplainably, the master merely nodded, taking a couple of steps back and standing in silence. The man in the cloak spoke again, in a low, gentle voice:

“I said look at me, young one.”

Shmi forced herself to raise her face, looking up at the man in front of her. His face was partially hidden in the shadow of his hood, but with the closeness she could make him to be a man in his late forties or early fifties. His eyes gleamed at her, yellow irises surrounded by a red rim shifting into a gentle blue so quickly she wondered if she had seen it wrong.

The man brought a hand to her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. His touch was strangely cold and unwelcome but Shmi tried her best to stay perfectly still. However, she swallowed down tensely, taking the risk of stating her limits, even though she knew that doing so might’ve warranted a slap across the very face he caressed.

“Sir, I am not that kind of slave.”

The man clicked his tongue dismissively, moving his hand to tuck his pointer finger under her chin and making her face him properly.

“How old are you?”

Oh, moons, he was looking for a bedchamber slave. Shmi gulps down, trying to keep the disgust off her features. Her master would often tell her to lie and take about five years off her actual age, but since he was being so complacent and Shmi would rather work to death like her mother rather than losing the very last shred of dignity she still had, she said the truth:

“I’m twenty-eight, sir. Will be twenty-nine in a few rotations. I-I am good with crops. A-and droids, I’m not as good as Jayden there, but I can fix a wiring or two. I’m strong, as my master said, quite used to heavy work.”

She raised her hands between the two of them, showing the scrapped and chipped nails and the dry, calloused fingers of a worker. Most men were put off by this, and Shmi would purposefully have her disheveled hair tied up in an unflattering low bun to warrant off any advances. At twenty-eight she was still a virgin, and she had no interest in laying with men, masters or otherwise, without any kind of connection, of love between them.

“Twenty-eight…” the man repeated, sizing her up with a gaze that swept up and down her form “Pity. A tad too old, I’m afraid.”

Shmi was simultaneously offended and relieved, lowering her hands at her sides; did that mean the man wasn’t interested in keeping her as a bedchamber slave?

“However, I cannot let this go to waste. Such power… If only you were young enough to be trained.”

Suddenly, Shmi could feel her entire body stiffen, as if she was being held by invisible ropes that tied every inch of her from head to toe. The man tilted his head to the side, smirking, and he brought his hand to her middle, right over her lower stomach.

“Hey!” her master shouted “Hands off the merchandise!”

The man ignored him, and Shmi could only whimper, trying to break free from the power holding her still.

“This will be very interesting.” The man muttered, and Shmi could feel a sudden warmth in her stomach, her skin tingling and her abdomen tightening; the feeling was as unwelcome as the cold that preceded it

Get your hands off me! Shmi thought, her face cringing in disgust, Stop touching me!

The man released her with a smirk, pulling his hand away. Shmi felt the power restraining her finally release her body and nearly collapsed, struggling to stay on her feet. Her body felt strange, and the warm sensation in her stomach did not cease.

“I believe this will be all. Goodbye.”

The man turned and left, leaving Shmi unsettled and her master furious, screaming at her to never say her true age in a sale ever again, but Shmi wasn’t really listening, her hands falling over her stomach. Something had happened, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t understand what it was.

A month later she had long forgotten about that particular incident, finding it very strange that she missed her period. On the following weeks, she would start feeling nauseous every morning. Two months later, she would notice her stomach swelling despite her poor diet. Several months later, on one late night of work all alone in a tool shed, she would collapse on the floor with the pain of her stomach contractions, muffling her screams in a cloth not to wake up her master and struggling for hours until she gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby.

“There was no father”, she would say, and no one would believe her.

#shmi skywalker #sheev palpatine #THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC IN THE LEAST FOR FUCK'S SAKE #PLEASE DONT TAG THIS AS SHIP EW!!!

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haiq-trash · 4 years

Text

By Your Side (1/19)

Series Master-list

♡━━━━━━ ◦ ✤ ◦ ━━━━━━♡

The shop's tv was switching on and off. People passed by not paying much attention. After all, this was Tokyo, the city was kept alive by always moving, always busy.

The unnoticed TV the 10 o'clock news played out. Begging to be noticed by the civilians.

“Viria Tech has just been named Japan’s top 10 tech business in only a few years while the CEO and Founder had been named Forbes Richest Self Made Entrepreneur!” The show host’s blond prim hair swished side to side as she shook her head in disbelief.

Her co-host feigned a gasp, “ I also heard that the CEO of the Viria Tech branch, Y/n L/n was asked to model and be in the cover of Forbes but denied it!”

“I wonder why? She’s a woman in power, could she be shy? Aww” The blond host’s comment wasn’t one that rang with true concern, it was tinged with pettiness and snide remarks.

“Who knows? I wonder what she’s doing right now? After all, she is so secretive about everything!”

♡━━━━━━ ◦ ✤ ◦━━━━━━♡

The steel doors slid back, scratching the smooth floor slightly. Inventors, scientists, data analysts, and more gathered around the room.

The walls were tall and plain white. The sounds of typing, low conversations, and the movement of objects echoed through the big room.

“Miss, here is this week's new data developments, the success rate of each one” Akita, one of Viria Tech’s lead scientists handed you a form.

Looking over the various numbers, symbols, and marks you gave a nod in approval. Handing it back you sighed as you eventually clicked your tongue.

“Hand these to my assistant and tell him to leave this and this week developing files at my desk”

“Your assistant is……?” Akita said bashfully.

For a moment you had forgotten that Akashi wasn’t by your side most of that day and it didn’t help that this new lead scientist was new too.

“Akashi Keiji, he is on his lunch break with Hinata from HR. So go give it to him and tell Hinata I wanna talk to him later on in my office. No later than 8 pm, I have a business meeting with the investors at 9. Got it?”

Akita nodded, you could tell by his shoulders that he was tense and he speed-walked away. You looked down to adjust your shirt, one of the collar buttons had been undone.

“Y/n”

You turned around, (E/C) eyes slanting slightly as you looked and saw Kozume Kenna in front of you.

Kenma was one out of three people in the whole company to refer to you as your name. Maybe it was because of all that time you were with him in College.

“Yes?” You asked, Kenma never bothered you with much….

“Some idiot intern was messing with the new Data Software without supervision and-“

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you slightly gripped your fist. You were professional.

“Tell him to come to my office….now and whoever recommended him as well”

Kenma’s eyes slightly widened but he nodded, jotting it down on his Digi-journal and walked away, “got it.”

As for yourself? You walked alone back to your office, it was likely on the top floor. Your heels hitting the floor with a small tick-tack, you passed by your secretary, Kiyoko

You nodded at her, she was a great employee, professional, team player, and organized.

Kiyoko nodded back and flashed you a small smile but by that time you were gone inside your office.

It was a solid color, the black cashmere rug was on the cold floor, the only “personality” it had was the two pictures in the backdrop of your black mahogany desk that was slapped in the middle of the room.

The two pictures made you smile and were extremely important in times like right now.

The first was you at Hinata and Kageyama’s wedding on a beautiful beach in Brazil. Hinata was wearing a white tux while Kageyama was in black. A younger you were squished in the middle, a bright smile on your face as you snapped the candid pic.

The second picture was of you when you were in college. It was a picture of you and Kenma, both with tired eyes and computer lights reflecting on your faces, but complimenting your under eyes was a huge smile. That was the day, Viria Tech was finally official.

“Y/n” a small familiar voice hit your ears and snapped you out of your reminiscing of the past years.

“Yes, Akashi?” You turned to see your glasses eye assistant, in his vest clutching the papers, he left them on the desk while he kept talking.

“Hinata says he’s available at 7 pm is that okay? HR has been flooding with workers lately and since he’s head of the department he’s been busy”

You nodded as you let out a small sigh and ran your hand through your hair, “Sure, I’ll be cutting it close so can you go to my apartment and grab an outfit that’s on the bed? I laid them out in case this happened”

Akashi gave you a small smile, “Nothing ever passes you does it?”

If you had energy, you would have smiled back, instead, you just shrugged, “If it does, well that’s what I have you for Akashi”

He nodded and stretched out his hand to receive your keys and as you handed them to him you spoke.

“By the way, tell Kiyoko to let in the intern and employee now on your way out”

Akashi’s smile flatlined, “okay, should I give Hinata a heads up?”

As you sat down in your chair and shifted through the papers he had left you, you nodded.

Akashi exited the room and two males entered. One was Rae. He had been working for Viria Tech for two years now, the intern was around his mid-20s near your age.

He seemed surprised by that, “You’re the CEO of Viria Tech?!”

You nodded as you motioned them to sit down, they did so. The older employee gently jabbed the intern in with his shoulder.

“Do you know why you are here?” You asked out, coolly.

The older employee nodded, “ Because...of the incident right?”

“And who are you required to report to when making these mistakes?”

“Kozume, the head of Software development, miss” the younger one spoke out.

“Yet none of you reported it? One of your coworkers did…..”

“We didn’t think it was that serious of a mistake!”

You grabbed and laid down documents in front of them, one by one.

“Yet, as these documents say. Your little mishap has just made Viria Tech lose most of our new software development data for this July’s new project launch with Sony….”

Both of them paled as they looked over at the papers, you continued.

“ Not only that but this will make a lot of the Software Development block stay overtime with pay that will make a mark on this month’s budget for the company.”

“Boss, we are so sorry!”

You gave them a small pressed smile, as the two men in front of you begged for forgiveness. From the corner of your eye, you saw the time read 6 pm.

You had to wrap things up soon, so you took out two sheets of a white document with a red box in the upper corner and handed it to them.

“Here are your dismissal slips, have all your things packed out and ready to move by next week. Any more questions ask Kiyoko, my secretary.”

“What?! Wait, I can’t get fired, my rents due this month?!”

“I've been working here for two years, surely you can oversee this right?”

Your pressed smile had fallen and your eyes slightly narrowed at them both, “If I oversee this what type of example am I setting? This mishap will hurt both the company and your ex-fellow employees. I cannot overlook this, take the papers, and leave.”

“Wait boss please!” The younger one pleaded as the older one dragged him by the collar.

“Please leave or I will ask security to escort you out”

And like that they left. Sighing when you looked at the clock, it read 7 pm. Hinata should be here any sec-

“Y/n! How have you been?” Hinata’s orange hair entered your vision and you almost cracked a smile that wasn’t forced.

“Seen better days, how’s stuff in HR?”

Hinata sat down in the chair that was occupied prior moments, “Busy! Gah! So many people have been applying and we are already at full employee numbers right now!”

“Well we just lost a Software Developer and an intern so could you hop on that? Also, we might need to overhire more workers for the development team…”

Hinata looked at you, his eyebrows knitting in concern, “Why?”

“Mishap with the data for the new Tech collab with Sony. The intern was left unsupervised and decided to tinker with it”

Hinata groaned, “Isn’t this gonna hit the budget for this month? I’ll get the temporary employees but-“

“I’ll cover it, don’t worry. But please when finding extra developers to hire, make them sign NDA’s, I don’t want word of this getting out. It will make other companies hesitate to work with us and look so unprofessional”

Hinata nodded, “got it is that all?”

You sighed as you stretched your arms, you leaned in closer to him.

“Yeah, I also wanted to catch up. We haven’t talked and we work in the same building…”

Hinata nodded sheepishly, “Yeah I guess we’re both really busy”

“Do you need help in managing HR? I can get another employee to help you with your workload? Maybe an assistant? Kenma’s been wanting one….”

Hinata shook his head, “No! I can manage, really I’m doing fine.” A small laugh left him, “Of course Kenma would want one, he’s always saying he wants more free time to game…”

A small smile slipped on to your face, “Well he’s Kenma, I’m just glad he has a passion for what he’s doing. We’ve been trying to get a deal with Nintendo but I haven’t told him, I’m sure he’ll be excited about it it goes through”

Hinata’s eyes sparkled, “ Really! That’s so cool! I can’t believe it!”

“Yeah, I’m making Akashi network a bit more before jumping on to it. Plus I think I might have to push it further back since we’re now behind working on the Sony data and we have August’s release of the new analytics for the stockholders since our popularity outside Japan had increased”

Hinata let out a groan, “So much jumble, Ne? Y/n don’t you get stressed?”

Of course I- but you cut off the thought and said, “Sometimes, but I can handle it”

Hinata looked at you with shiny brown eyes, you ruffled his hair and asked, “So how’s stuff with your hubby?”

Hinata flushed red and played with his hands, “I and Kageyama are doing good! Right now he’s also been busy with work so we haven’t seen each other much.”

“But you guys are still going strong right?”

Hinata grinned, “Three years and counting!” He looked over to the side of your shoulder, “I can’t believe you still have the wedding picture”

You let out a grin, “You got married once we graduated! I had to celebrate seeing as you weren’t gonna be a single with me for my mid-Twenties!”

Hinata laughed, “Oh they’ve been crazy but not in the way we thought huh?”

Your smile slightly slipped, “Yeah, now we’re midway with them and I still have-“

A knock interrupted your words, Akashi entered the room with your clothes. You looked over at the clock, it read 8 pm.

Standing up you squeezed Hinata’s shoulder and smiled at him, “I have a business meeting at 9.”

Hinata nodded, “No worries I get it”

“We’ll talk soon, tell Kageyama I said hi”

But as Hinata flashed you a smile, you were sure he wasn’t convinced about your promise of catching up soon.

He left and you grabbed your clothes from Akashi thanking him but later interjected, “Make sure Hinata once he’s hired the extra employees for this mishap takes some time off. Make sure Kiyoko jots it down and notifies Yamaguchi that he’ll be in charge of HR for the time being that Hinata’s out”

Akashi nodded as he got it down on his planner, “Got it, your drivers waiting outside. You have around 20 minutes to get ready and head to the Ibadan Restaurant”

“Got it”

“Are you going alone? Would you like me to come?” Akashi asked.

You shook our head, “Akashi you’re off the clock and you’re 24 and young so go spend some time with your boyfriend I’ll be fine”

Akashi nodded as he left the room but you heard him say, “Y/n you’re only a year older…”

Grabbing your (F/C) dress you rush to put it on and touch up our makeup in 10 minutes and are downstairs in the car in 3. The driver didn’t chat which you enjoyed as you were bombarded with messages from your friends asking what you were doing that night.

Meeting with old 40-year-old men for dinner to convince them to invest in the company, you thought tiredly.

“She’s in a bad mood so watch out!” Whispered one of the employers to the other.

The room went silent as you walked into the Software Development meeting you called. Akashi on your heels with a journal and glasses.

All eyes landed on you and you saw Kenma sitting out on the opposite side of the table’s tail, you at the head.

Akashi sat next to you on the side, “I’m calling this meeting because last night we had a successful meeting with investors from the US”

The head software team was listening carefully, “They have invested so I need everyone here to work hard to discreetly clean up the mishap that happened yesterday understood? I want the work to be top tier. You have till the end of the July”

“But that’s only a month!” One of them protested.

Your eyes slanted a bit but did not form a glare, “Its either finish it or lose the investment. The investors are looking into July’s output and growth and will take back their investment if there are no results. Our Development Data for Sony is that months biggest profit...if we don’t make it I will need to cut down on employees”

``We'll get it done” Kenma spoke who had been eerily quiet. Your gazes met and you nodded.

“That will be all the meeting has ended” and you walked out. Akashi was hot on your trail and as you entered the elevator he looked at you with concerned eyes.

“Are you not going to talk about what happened last night? I should have gone with you-“

“No” and that was all you left out. For your throat burned too much and the nerves in your body denied your air.

The elevator was silent.

♡━━━━━━ ◦ ✤ ◦ ━━━━━━♡

Tag-list Open (Reply to be added!)

@fatal-impact

@ambabhie

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googlyeyephone · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3

I opened my eyes to see tall, white grass surrounding me. I looked around and saw a gate with a beautiful city behind it. I lifted myself up, looking down at myself. I was wearing a white cloth dress. The kind you see in murals at a church or renaissance paintings. I walked towards the gate, the cloth dragging behind me. Standing at the front of the gate, I pondered my actions. With a loud clang, the gate opened. I stood there with no care in the world. I walked past the gates to a building with a path guarded by walls. The building was smaller, looking like a welcome center. It had a few steps leading to a normal sized door. I opened the door. There was a longer, round desk sitting by the wall with a being sitting behind it. They were tall and skinny with an awkward frame that gave him a feeling of remembrance but he didn’t know why. They looked too big for the desk. I went into the building, seeing a bunch of beings sitting along the walls. I walked up to the desk.

“Hello?” I said quietly, feeling timid.

“Hello,” the being said in a welcoming tone but not looking up from their computer, “sorry. I’m writing an important email so that’s why I’m not looking at you.”

“Ok,” I mumbled.

“What’s your name?” they said, sending the email and switching to a different, more official looking website.

“What?” I asked.

“Your name?” they said, their scroll wheel making a familiar sound.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly.

“I’m sure you can remember your name. The transition isn’t that-”

Their sentence cut off with a gasp when they looked at me, a sense of dread upon their face. They frantically made a phone call, their voice in a hushed but frantic tone. They hung up the phone and seconds later, a gust of wind and sparkles hit me. Next to the desk was a more feminine being. They had a beautiful off-white dress on with a matching pair of low heels. They had an articulate wand in their hand. Their ears were long and pointed, curving in the middle. They had short, puffy, white hair and pure white skin. They had a very prominent hourglass frame and plump lips. Their eyes had no pupils as well.

“Is this them?” they said to the taller being.

“Yes,” they said, nodding rapidly.

They turned to me.

“Hi. I’m Ophelia. You will be coming with me,” they said, holding their hand out.

I took their hand and with a gust of sparkles, we were out of the building and in a different building. This one looked magnificent. It had beautiful arches and paintings across the walls and amazingly tall ceilings. It led to large and decorated doors that went from the floor to the ceiling and had no handles. The paintings were in various colors but no dark colors, red, orange, or black. There were arches lining the ceiling with articulate designs in a magnificent gold hue.

“Come with me,” Ophelia said, still holding my hand.

They led me to the giant doors. Holding the wand in their free hand, they inserted it into a wand-shaped mold. The doors made a giant woosh noise as they opened. The wand disappeared, dissolving into thin air with very light pink smoke and shimmers. As we waited for the door to open, they led me to the middle of the hall. The doors opened all the way and we headed inside. There were gigantic books floating around the room. They had magical designs and glowed all different colors unlike regular books. There were paintings on the walls but they seemed to serve more of a purpose, tell more of a story than the other paintings I saw.

Sitting in the middle of the room was a beautiful woman with long, curly hair. Her dark hair flowed down to her mid-back. She was sitting on a white chair with a holographic screen in front of her. And she was tall. Like, 40 feet tall. I felt small.

“Excuse me, my god,” Ophelia spoke up, once we were closer to her.

“Ophelia. How lovely to see you,” the woman said, dismissing her screen.

“You as well, my god,” they said smiling.

“Who is your little friend you have with you?” she asked.

“Well that’s why we’re here,” they said.

“Who is she?” I asked Ophelia.

“This is God,” Ophelia answered.

“Don’t new spirits know who I am usually?” God asked, not hurt nor happy.

“Well, that’s the thing. They’re not a spirit. It’s rare for this to happen but we think their soul travelled here while in a coma on the mortal realm,” Ophelia explained.

“Oh stars,” God said.

“That’s what I was thinking as well, my god,” Ophelia said, “we asked them for their name and they don't even remember that.”

“Let me look for them in the mortal directory,” God said, pulling up her screen.

Suddenly, from a little door on the same wall as the big door, came a being with curly black hair and pale white skin like Ophelia. They were wearing a white clown-looking costume with three fuzzy, large, black “buttons” going down the front of his suit. They gasped.

“Ophelia! Oh! And a new friend!” they said, jumping and floating down next to us.

“Hey Atlas. We have a mortal here who’s body is in a coma in the mortal realm and soul is here,” Ophelia said, “we found them at the welcome center after Luther called.”

“He couldn’t scan their face and look them up?” Atlas said.

“I mean, no. They don’t have certain features, like their irises and pupils,” Ophelia said.

“Well God can do it, like she is now,” Atlas said to me, “and you’re with Ophelia! She’s great at figuring things out.”

“Atlas, stop,” she said, blushing.

They giggled.

“Oh!” Ophelia said turning to me, “this is Atlas. He’s God’s jester.”

“What’s a jester?” I asked quietly.

“It’s basically someone who is a friend to the Greats,” Atlas said.

“Who are the Greats?” I asked.

“There’s God, Father Time, Mother Earth, and Satan,” Ophelia said.

Before we could continue, God had finished her search.

“I found him,” she said, “come here, my child.”

She reached down a hand and I stepped onto it. She lifted me up and put me on one of the arm rests, where I could see her screen. There was a picture on the screen of someone with blondish-orange hair and a small but very happy smile. Next to it, there was a ton of information. Birthday, likes, dislikes, etc.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“That’s you my child. You just don’t remember. You look so different. Your hair is lighter with gray streaks and your face is weary, sunken in, and tired. Even though you always have bags under your eyes and you’re fairly thin, you look different. Soulless.”

I studied the pictures. They seemed so familiar. I knew it was me but I couldn’t feel that it was me. I couldn’t remember it was me. I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

“My child, what is wrong?” God asked, worried.

“I can’t remember any of this,” I said, feeling a pit in my stomach and my breathing getting choppy.

“Your name is Leo Holt-Morley. You have two loving and caring dads, a sister who would protect you at all means, and, well, your brother. You have a boyfriend named Austin and so many loving friends,” she said, lifting my chin gently with her finger, “you have Tourette’s as well as an anxiety disorder. You love to play video games and read books. You are such a smart individual, my child. All of the things that make you you have been taken away.”

I felt a spark in my mind. A feeling of remembrance. I just couldn’t grasp it. She flipped the screen to someone’s view in the mortal realm. It was two men. One with black, smooth hair and palish skin trying to comfort the other man who had blondish-brown curly hair and slightly tanner skin. The brunette was trying not to cry and failing while the blonde was a mess, letting out every single tear.

“Those are your fathers. They’re upset because of your current state in the mortal realm,” God said.

I felt my heart squeeze and tears spilling out of my eyes.

“Why am I feeling like this?” I asked.

“Your friends are upset as well,” God said as she switched views.

People around his age were all expressing their feelings in different ways: crying, shutting people out, being alone.

“Your most happy and loved memories,” she said, swiping through memories where joy and love were the most prominent emotions.

Instead of a pit in his stomach and a tight feeling in his chest, he felt like his body was going to explode in movement and he felt his heart swell with joy.

“And your last memory,” she said as she swiped to the next screen.

This time it seemed to be in my view. And there seemed to be a tense feeling in the air. Voices rose and yelling began. It got louder until I heard my voice yell to the girl driving. There was a flash of light and then nothing.

Then, it came back to me. The dam of forgetting broke and memories flooded in. I held my head in my hands and fell to my knees, folding into myself. It felt like my head was going to explode and I was going to throw up at the same time. The memories came back in the order God had told me. My name, my dads, Olivia and Jackson, Austin, my friends, my Tourette’s and my anxiety, my hobbies, and the crash. The argument we had.

After it had all settled, I sat up.

“Are you ok, my child?” God said.

“I can’t see,” I said.

She laughed softly and summoned my exact glasses. I slid them on, blinking and adjusting.

“Wait,” I said, my flinch tic making itself present

“Yes, my child?” God said, looking at me.

“Where is Austin? And Jackson and Olivia?” I asked.

“They’re in comas as well,” she said.

“So, they’re- pew- in heaven as well?” I asked hopefully.

“Well, there’s something I’ve been waiting to tell you,” Ophelia spoke up, “there’s only been a couple hundred cases of a soul leaving a mortal body and coming to a realm. But if the same thing happens to four people at once they get split up into the four different realms.”

“Do they all lose their memories- pew- and stuff like I did?” I questioned.

She jumped up to the arm rest followed by Atlas.

“From what I found in my studies of this, only the one who goes to heaven does because they actually have a chance of getting their memories restored. That’s the pattern I saw. Every recorded case of four mortals being split up among the realms, only the one in heaven lost their memory. No one knows why. But I need you to know something Leo,” she said, grabbing my hands, “the split among the realms doesn’t mean anything. What matters the most about this piece of information is that you tell the person who went to the hell realm that it means nothing that they went down there. And yes, the person who comes to heaven is usually the nicest among the four but it does not matter where the other three goes.”

“Ok. H- wow~- how do I find them?” I asked.

“Well, you would need to go to each realm and try to speak to the Great of that realm,” Ophelia said.

“But,” I flinched again, “I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know- wow~- anything about these realms.”

God spoke up.

“I think I may know someone.”

#ocs #oc story #original writing #original story #road trip to the afterlife #lgbtq #lgbt characters #lgbt

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takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years

Text

Save Me: Chapter 13 - Surprises and Questions

~Hey guys! This is Chapter 13 of ‘Save Me’ ❤️ Molly and Negan have deep chats about their past lives and Molly deals with her jealousy...I hope you enjoy and chapter 14 will be out on Wednesday ✌🏻Lemme know what you think so far!~

Molly was now at the top, earning the favour of the King. She was infiltrating his every thought, controlling his every move and she knew it. But with both of them playing the same game, one was bound to lose. Unless, someone decides to change the rules...

I felt powerful being in that meeting room.

It was like knights of the round table type shit, Negan sitting at the top and all of us lower down, Dwight, Simon, Arat, Laura and now me.

I was expecting to uncover something important, maybe their plans of attack on my family, but nothing. Not even a word. I knew they must be retaliating, we had taken out one of their outposts, killed over fifty of their men and all Negan wanted to discuss was farming and food supply.

Perhaps he didn't trust me. Perhaps he had separate meetings, ones where I wasn't there and they discussed Rick then.

I looked around the room, each one of them kept staring at me. Dwight just looked down. He knew something, I always recognised that guilty face.

Negan asked each one of us for our ideas, all of them came up with something similar to the set up they already had.

I suggested that while they were already growing crops at the Sanctuary and that was kind of working, the land wasn't fertile enough being a factory area, so they should outsource a plot of land at one of the farming communities.

Provide the seeds, they grow them and give them more than just 'protection' in return for their service. It would not only lighten the load from the communities needing to scavenge to provide for the Saviours but it would make them more subservient and get them on their side.

Negan sat in silence as I explained, just slowly nodding and smiled widely once I'd finished.

'How lucky am I, my gal's a genius!' he said whacking Lucille down onto the table as he chuckled.

Simon just scowled at me.

'Alright, plan A that works and we don't kill anyone, plan B if they resist we take a flyer on the place and kill everyone there. Unfortunate play, but other communities will get the message' Simon barked.

Negan scowled at him and slammed Lucille onto the table, adding more marks to the table's surface.

'People are a resource', whack!, 'money on the table. People are the foundation of what we are building here!' he yelled, hitting Lucille onto the table on every word.

I jumped slightly, everyone else looked down while Simon was wide eyed, like a rabbit in headlights.

He glared at Simon, breathing heavily and lent over the table, hands pressed firmly on the surface. 'Who the hell do you think you're talking to?' he said calmly but sternly.

'Are you confused about who we are? Are you confused about who is in charge? Are we backsliding Simon?, please tell me we're not backsliding' he growled almost smirking.

Simon was nervous and almost stuttered 'we are not...backsliding' he forced out quietly.

A smile grew across Negan's face as he stated, 'plan A, they get the fuck on board willingly, plan B, we kill the right people, including Rick, in an instructive and public way and make everyone get on board'.

Simon just sat silently, as did we all before he dismissed the room.

'Darlin, wait' he said calmly as I tried to walk out.

Worry crept across my face as he mentioned Rick, but I hid it well turning around to face him.

Simon looked back as he walked out, scowling at me as he did so.

'Sorry about all that. I knew you were a goddamn smartypants' he said tiredly, I smiled back at him as he said that.

I didn't know how to bring up his plan for Rick, even though I knew it was set in stone ever since we attacked them.

'I want you to come on a run later' he added.

I paused not knowing how to answer.

'What you got plans doll?' he said mockingly.

'No, thanks to you. A run where?' I asked curiously.

'Don't worry it won't be to visit your buddies. Just to this office building, Arat checked it out briefly the other day but said it would need back up. So, you in?' he said smirking and bending down almost pulling me in for a hug.

I smiled, looking into his beautiful eyes and said 'depends, would you be there?'.

He chuckled, saying 'Aw darlin, have you got a soft spot for me?!'.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. 'In your dreams. Besides I thought you didn't do that stuff you call 'grunt work'' I said teasingly.

'Well maybe I could be persuaded...ya know, to keep an eye on you' he said jokingly.

I scoffed 'ha! I don't need your protection, we both know that. But fine, it'll be nice to not be a prisoner anymore'.

'You're one of us now doll, but don't go making eyes at the boss' he said smirking and strutting out of the meeting room, leaving me speechless.

Later that day...

A couple hours later, Dwight knocked on my door and told me it was time to go.

I felt strangely nervous yet excited.

I hadn't been outside the compound in months and finally I could go out and kill something again.

Trust me, small victories.

Plus, when I went down to the armoury I got my gun back with my engraving M.C. on the handle plus my two machetes.

I suited up, putting my knives into the holsters on my thighs and the gun in my waist band.

I packed my bag but left my bow behind, thinking I wouldn't need it.

Boy, was I wrong.

As I stepped outside to see the group chatting away and Negan leaning against the truck waiting.

He was looking at Lucille till he looked up and saw me.

His eyes seemed to light up, engulfed in flames as his brown eyes caught a glimpse of the sun.

This was the first time I had my weapons back and I felt complete, I was finally not a prisoner but an equal.

But never a Saviour, more like the help.

His eyes widened as a smile rose across his face, revealing his pearly whites.

I smiled back as he audibly said whew! 'Look. At. You!' he said leaning.

'C'mon darlin, hop in' he said opening the front door of the truck.

I looked confused and turned around saying 'but, I mean? Up front? With you?'.

He just nodded 'uh huh'.

I smiled slightly at this, he only ever let his right hand man sit up front but after what went down in the meeting, Simon was more like public enemy number one.

I hopped in and buckled up while he passed me Lucille. I'd never held her and even though she was just a bat, I didn't want to disrespect him so I placed her carefully in the middle of our seats on top of my bag.

Looking out the window, Simon looked genuinely worried about his position as he saw me in his seat, he hated me now for sure.

We set off, I looked out of my window for most of the journey, rolling it down and smelling the warm sun soaked grass and trees as we drove past forests.

A smile spread its way across my face without even realising. In this moment, I was content and felt truly safe.

When I shifted in my seat to look straight ahead, I caught Negan in my peripheral staring at me for a split second in awe.

When he turned back to look straight ahead, he was smiling.

It was different this time, no smugness, no humour just happiness.

He felt just as content as I did.

It was peaceful.

Time seemed to fly by and before we knew it we were here.

It was a tower of a building and looked fairly untouched, strangely there were only a few walkers around which we took out easily before walking inside.

Negan had instructed everyone to split up and work on different levels of the building, gathering up any worthwhile shit they could find and load it back into the truck.

I immediately made my way up the stairs all the way to the top floor.

Negan spotted me and called out 'Molly, what the hell you doin?'.

'I used to work in an office like this one, all the best shit is always kept on the top floor' I shouted back down climbing up further.

He chuckled.

'Of course you would know that' he said following me up the stairs.

Once we got up the top, I was bending down to sort through a stack of papers when a walker came for me out of the closet.

As I spun around, hearing it growl and gargle, Negan entered the room just in time to take it out in one swift blow.

He exhaled and said chuckling 'what was that you said about not needing me doll?'.

'I would've got it' I said shrugging my shoulders.

He rolled his eyes in response before going to work in another room.

It felt like we'd been searching for supplies for ages.

We'd found most of the food supply on the top floor, people radioed Negan to let him know that they'd found ammo and a bunch of water coolers.

As we were just packing up, Arat radioed Negan to let him know that they'd packed up and were ready to go back if he wanted.

Just as everyone was gathering into the trucks, Negan radioed that we'd be right down.

It was now that I got up and looked out of the window to see a hoard of walkers seconds away from the back of the building. Fuck.

I shouted for Negan, he came running in and we both saw them.

Arat radioed that they were surrounded and wouldn't make it out if they didn't get back right now. She made the decision to drive away, the other trucks following, leaving us stranded.

As soon as we made our way down to the first floor, we saw walkers at every window on every side of the room. We were surrounded and couldn't get out at any side.

I placed my bag down carefully, pointed silently to one side and then mouthed to him 'you go that way'.

He nodded and readied Lucille in his hands as I stealthily walked in the opposite direction with my knives up to my chin.

I tried to be as quiet as possible as I moved swiftly between the five walkers on my side, stabbing at their skulls as I ducked and lunged.

As much as I tried to keep my focus on the walkers, my gaze drifted across the room to make sure Negan was okay.

I heard the bat smashing something but when I looked over in his direction he had smashed the windows in and pushed the walkers out.

The last walker lunged at my face while I wasn't looking and I gasped as I stuck my knife in the side of its brain in reaction.

It dropped at my feet I exhaled and swept a loose strand of hair from my face.

I walked over to him and said 'that was too close'.

He just ignored me and took off his leather jacket.

I knew something was off with him, but I didn't know what.

Negan wasn't as angry as I thought he would be, he just slumped down to sit on the floor against a wall.

'Aren't you even the least bit pissed that they left?!' I said breathlessly.

'Arat did the right thing. They'll work something out' he said calmly, like he wasn't the least bit phased.

I just shrugged my shoulders before sitting down next to him.

He was silent for a while before saying 'you've got the chance to take me out now like you wanted to. You could escape, find your way back to Rick the prick and his band of merry men and without me, the Saviour's would crumble'.

I looked down, he wasn't trying to get a rise out of me, he was simply stating facts. 'I could. But I wouldn't, you know I wouldn't' I said softly.

This made him smile sweetly as he said almost mockingly, 'is that so? So you do have a soft spot for me after all'.

I scoffed, trying to deflect from what I was feeling inside and said 'and again, you wish' as I patted him on the arm.

Usually he laughed at our banter but instead he just sat silently in reflection.

I turned my head to the side to look at him and frowned at his stern expression. 'What is it?' I asked, knowing this wasn't about the situation with the Saviours.

He squinted before looking down and then to me, 'Alright, let's talk. We can pass the time while we wait for the walkers to die down. I wanna know more about you'.

I raised my eyebrows and said 'alright' sceptically.

'You said you were a lawyer before?' he asked softly.

I looked in his eyes and nodded.

'I was an attorney in DC. I went to Dartmouth before that'.

His eyebrows rose at this before he chuckled, 'goddamn! alright smartypants'.

I could tell he was relaxed now that we were talking more openly. He took a moment, though I knew exactly what he wanted to ask next.

'What about your family? Was there a Mr. Chambler?' he asked sadly.

I looked at him quizzically 'how did you know my last name?'.

'Arat and Dwight looked through your backpack after you tried to kill me and found a necklace' he said bemusedly.

I nodded smiling and reminiscing, 'my locket' I said softly knowing the engraving of my initials on the silver and our names on Tara's photograph.

I looked down, cleared my throat before saying quietly, 'there was. I was married, but he didn't make it'.

He looked at me attentively, 'i'm sorry' he said, all the while leaning in, wanting to know more.

'His uh name was Henry. He was in the army and when I came back home to Georgia to see my family, he had wanted to surprise me. This was before everything went to shit and he was the first person I saw turn. He had gotten bit and I found him in our house, I was the one who had to put him down' I said sadly.

I looked down at the ground sadly, thinking about how strong and brave he was and how I'd changed since that day.

I continued, 'he was strong like me...so it's his gun that I carry now'.

He nodded and looked down, like he understood completely but also scared to tell me what he had wanted for a while.

He suddenly picked up Lucille and traced his fingers along its barbed wire. 'I had a wife. A real wife. Her name was Lucille, she had cancer and uh died just before all this' he said nervously.

He started to tear up as he said 'I was weak back then, I couldn't put her down when she turned. But she got me through that life, so I named the bat after her so she could get me through this one'.

I looked at him, it was like seeing him again for the first time, he was different.

Somehow he seemed less monstrous now, more human.

'So I guess we're not different after all' I said stroking his arm. He smiled up at me and wrapped an arm around me.

'Now you're about to tell me that you survived because Rick saved you and gave you a real family' he said mockingly.

I turned to him seriously, 'They are my family and Rick did save me', at this he rolled his eyes.

'After I lost my dad, it was just me and my sisters for a long time so I will always be grateful to Rick for letting me in' I retorted, almost angrily when he insulted Rick.

He nodded, smirking at my defence of Rick. 'Where are they now? Your sisters?'.

I looked down, 'they're dead'.

His face dropped, 'jesus doll, I'm sorry', I just nodded.

I couldn't tell him about Tara. No matter how much I wanted to trust him, trusting people gets you killed and more importantly it would put Tara at risk and I couldn't lose her.

I looked up at his face, examining him more intensely now, trying to figure out whether or not I should trust him.

His face was cut up pretty bad when he broke the glass window. I don't even know what he was thinking but I couldn't help but feel bad for him.

I took his hand in mine and ushered him over to a crate so he could sit down. He looked at me sceptically, wondering what I was up to but still silently obeying my command.

I brought my bag over and took out my med kit.

'Your face is a mess, hold still' I said as I stood in front of him.

He looked up at me confused, like he was amazed that I would help him.

I gazed back at him as I took out an alcohol wipe and some gauze.

'It's gonna sting, sorry' I said as I stood closer and held his face while I dabbed the wounds across his cheek. He didn't even flinch or wince at all.

'You don't have to do this ya know darlin' he said softly as I applied some antiseptic to the areas.

I smiled slightly, 'I know but I can't help it. I care about people, and this would get infected if I didn't treat it'.

He smiled sweetly and his hands trailed up the sides of my legs until he rested on my hips, wrapping his arms around me.

'You care about me?' he asked mockingly.

I rolled my eyes at this as he pulled me closer, smiling at me with a twinkle in his eyes. 'I said people, not you specifically' I chuckled as he nodded like he didn't believe me. I applied the gauze now with a smile etched across my face.

'You are something else you know that?' he said still staring at me.

I tried to focus on the wounds but my eyes kept finding his, 'I'm just being a decent person, I'm not a hero' I mocked.

He stood up once I'd finished and held my hands in his as he towered over me.

'No, I know you hate me and yet you still help me. That's just who you are...' he said softly as his lips came closer to mine.

'I don't hate you' I whispered against his lips as he brushed against mine, literally millimetres between our lips pressing against each other's.

I closed my eyes tightly in frustration and stepped back, 'I can't, I cant betray Rick'.

Negan sighed and opened his eyes. He started to frown when I mentioned Rick.

'You do know that your friend Rick is an asshole right?' he said seriously.

'You do know that you're an asshole right?' I retorted.

He chuckled 'yeah, I am. But he killed dozens of my people'.

I was silent for a minute before saying quietly, 'So did I'.

He looked at me seriously with a raised brow as he said 'what?' and stepped back.

I sighed before saying that 'I was there, that night at the outpost'.

He was hurt and as I looked up at him slowly he scoffed and started to pace around the room.

'Oh, you killed my people while they were sleeping. Well look at you!' he said spinning around, looking genuinely upset now.

'I also blew up your guys on motorcycles' I said softly.

He was angry and surprised, I could tell because of the smile that he did that was overly sarcastic and his eyes were hardened and piercing.

'That was you that blew up little Timmy and the dick brigade?!' he scoffed, almost laughing.

He walked back over to me with a frown plastered across his face.

'Why are you telling me this now?' he asked sternly.

I sighed. 'I just wanted you to know. We don't know how long we have so I wanted to clear my conscience'.

'You wanna know what I think? I think you're sabotaging this' he said angrily.

I scoffed, 'what? what is there to sabotage?! This isn't a relationship, I don't owe you anything...'

He looked at me more hurt than angry now.

'You know what I think this is? I think you're scared, because god forbid you let anyone get close to you. You've just opened up to me about your wife and now you're backing out. That's why you have multiple wives right? Sex without any strings, so you never let yourself feel' I retorted.

'You seriously think that little of me?' he said with pain in his voice as he walked closer.

I stared back into his eyes silently, already regretting what I just said.

He looked at me for a second and nodded. 'Alright fine, we're doing this' he said sternly walking towards me.

I looked at him sceptically, wondering what he was about to bring up.

'Are you screwing Dwight?' he said scowling at me.

My mouth parted in shock, that was not where I thought he was going with this. 'Excuse me?!' I retorted.

'Or is it Fat Joseph? or both?' he said mockingly.

'Why do you care?! You don't care about anyone' I asked, filled with rage.

'Oh come on! You're telling me that those two spineless sacks of shit are sniffing around your skirts and your not even putting out?! God, I feel sorry for them' he said smiling.

That was it. I slapped him hard right across the face.

He wasn't angry, just surprised. My body was racing with conflicting emotions as my heart beat faster. I didn't know whether to punch him or kiss him.

'First of all, even if I was screwing them, which I'm not, it would be none of your goddamn business! You may think that you own people here, but you certainly don't own me' I said angrily.

I sighed, calming myself down and knowing we weren't getting anywhere.

'Admit it, you're jealous. You have feelings for me and it scares you because you're scared of losing someone again' I said seriously as I stepped closer.

He was frustrated but came closer until there was no gap between us, 'be my wife' he said softly into my ear.

I looked up at him in confusion, 'what?' I said angrily.

'I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else' he said softly.

There it was. The words that changed everything.

'You want me to be like them?! To sit in that room all day and wait to see which one of us you fancy fucking like some goddamn harem?!' I yelled tearfully.

He just looked into my eyes registering my sadness as I pushed him away defensively, feeling that he was peering into my soul.

'I've told you before, I don't want luxury and comfort. I want to be free, go on runs if I want and most importantly, be with a guy who doesn't fuck other women! If you honestly think that that would be something that I would ever want then...I guess we are different' I said sternly.

He looked down before trying to come closer before I stopped him, 'look darlin, I want you. But I'm not gonna give up my wives, even for you' he said sternly.

I smirked sadly, 'I wouldn't expect you to. So we'll just have to see which one of us gives in first'.

He started to smirk, 'Trust me doll, you'll be practically begging me soon enough'.

I chuckled 'yeah, well you'll be waiting a while then'.

Suddenly, a walker broke through a boarded up window, halting our argument as we sprung into action.

Negan looked at me thinking exactly what I was thinking.

I stuck my knife in its head while Negan pulled its body through into the room.

He used Lucille to smash it open and got down onto the floor saying 'fucking sucks, but looks like we gotta risk eating it by eating it'.

I stood over him, 'I don't understand' I said confusedly.

He squashed the body more before saying 'you never done this trick with the guts before?'.

I just nodded and said 'Uh huh'.

'These are putrid decaying organs, dead blood, piss and shit that had been cooking all day in the Virginian sun' he said sighing with a smirk.

'None of your people ever gotten sick from this?' he asked while digging out the guts.

'We're from Georgia' I said while kneeling down and started covering myself in guts.

'Aha! you lucky shits' he scoffed while he also started covering himself in guts.

We both just looked at each other in disgust, the smell was horrific but I couldn't help but smile at the fact that I knew he hated ruining his leather jacket.

'Well looks like my people aren't coming, so, let's make some noise' he said annoyed not wanting to stay here with me any longer.

He whacked Lucille against the office door while we both yelled at the top of our voices.

Negan opened the door and we both stood there in silence as they flooded into the room.

Negan walked out first, bat in hand and it was working. We moved through the crowd of walkers, none of them bothered by us until I tripped over a walker lying on the ground.

As I fell, I saw it snapping its jaws at me which triggered others to come after me.

I rose to my feet just as a walker tried to grab onto me, Negan turned around and whacked it across its head.

This triggered more of them to turn to us, one tried to grab onto Negan when I shot it in the head, sending it tumbling down.

We carried on moving swiftly, Negan using Lucille to shove them away as I shot others who came around us.

Suddenly, Negan virtually battery rammed a walker into a wall outside the building, cracking its head open and clearing my path.

They had started to crowd around me, encircling me further when he reached his hand out as he did when we first met and pulled me from out of their grasp, intertwining our fingers with each others.

Through the gate and shutting it swiftly behind us, we had made it. We had survived together. We walked for miles, both of us exhausted and even though we didn't need to hold hands any longer, we did so.

It just felt right being with him. So we walked, side by side, hands interlocked in each other's all the way back to the Sanctuary. We were still in a fight but that wasn't on our minds right now.

When we eventually got back, we were met with complete commotion in the hallway.

Simon and Arat were yelling at people to stay calm and ensured them that they would try and rescue Negan when they could. Nothing about me. What assholes.

We could hear Simon ranting about how even if Negan was gone, he would take his place and run the Sanctuary now. Negan's smirk turned into a scowl as we walked around the corner.

We heard Regina and a gunshot, someone had asked 'where is Negan?!' and she shot them saying 'I am Negan!'.

Screaming and commotion ensued until Negan started to whistle.

As we appeared in front of them, Simon was wide eyed and everyone was shocked, all of them falling to their knees.

Negan chuckled, 'Ah Regina! Now why d'ya have to go and do that. I am guessing that a lot of you fine folks thought I was dead, chewed up never to be crapped out again. Well, here's a little refresher on who the hell I am, I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille and my nut sack is made of steel. I am not dying until I am damn good and ready!'.

He turned to look at me briefly before saying 'now, if you'll all excuse me I am in deep need of a sandwich, a shower and some of that ah wilting lion orchid deep tissue shit that Frankie learned in San Francisco. Hell, I might do it all at once'.

He was punishing me, psychological warfare just took on a whole new meaning. Talking about Frankie, one of his wives. Knowing that she would be touching him, rubbing him.

Stop thinking about it, I told myself. I snapped out of fixating on my jealousy and returned to what Negan was saying.

He looked at me again briefly, smirking at the effect his words had had on me.

'But after that, we got some serious business to attend to, like talking to my right hand man. You see, we gotta figure out how all this could happen, like it happened, and then, then we're gonna get back to what we're doin' what we have always done...we will save people!'.

Negan turned to walk away just as a woman shouted 'thank you Negan! Thank God for you!'.

He smiled, turning back around to me 'and that is why I am here' he said quietly.

He looked at his guys, 'Gentlemen, gently escort Molly to her room. Gently' he said warningly.

They came up either side of me and said 'this way please', one walking in front and one behind all the way to my room. A freaking escort, what was I gonna do? Run?

I couldn't sleep that night, all I could think of was Frankie's hands all over Negan. Goddamnit. She probably slept with him after.

I was pissed and I couldn't be, that was the worst feeling.

Well, two can play at that game. I smirked, closing my eyes ready to sleep.

A plan already hatching in my mind that would destroy him.

#negan x original female character #twd negan #negan #negan imagine #twd #twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction #slowburn #thewalkingdead #jdm #negan fic #negans thirst squad #lucille #romance #twdromance #daryldixon #rickgrimes #negan smut

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juhyenblog1 · 3 years

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Exploiting Your Girl's Erotic Weaknesses

When it comes to making love, women are generally more into the fantasy aspect of the erotic build-up than they are the simple thrill of getting undressed with someone they know and love (or maybe DON'T know and/or love) like most of us guys.. So how to make a girl erotic in a way that we really want her to be? Well, enticing a woman to yield to your deepest and most secret desires requires that you gradually draw her into your worldview by making yourself into a unique High Value Lover, and then doing so again and again on a consistent basis until you secure her complete and total enchantment. At that point, like it or not, she's yours. You weave this seductive magic by CUSTOMIZING each and every experience in bed for her based on some careful investigation on your part. Great sex for most women can be defined as erotic in a way that she doesn't consider inappropriately perverted with a man who has learned to deliver the goods in a way that she enjoys, time after time. Imposing task? Not necessarily. Here's a three step plan to help you navigate this special road into the erotic heart of any woman... The first step is to figure out what sort of cheap sex tricks will send any particular girl into orbit. How?... Experiment! Maybe she likes to be dirty-talked or verbally coaxed? Perhaps she wants you to control her in some way? Or maybe she wants to control YOU? Try all sorts of things with her... spanking, tickling, toys, take some nasty pictures, do it out in the bushes, try some stuff in the shower, swap positions, etc. Use your porno powers here that you've spent years (likely all by yourself) "cultivating". Some of this mayhem may turn her off, but there's usually SOMETHING that will get a woman red-lining off the meter -- and it's your job to discover what that is and then learn how to play it like a fiddle! If you liked this short article and you would certainly such as to receive more info pertaining to 着エロ kindly browse through the site. If she refuses to go very much beyond plain vanilla missionary-style, then you may have run across a chick with low sex drive or other pressing issues on her mind that she feels must be more important. Rather than be angry about it, count your blessings. It's fortunate to uncover such crucial knowledge of incompatibility about a partner as soon as possible because it will head off a ton of future misery. Turning someone this sexually uninterested towards your more open-minded, erotically-experimental direction can be an impossible task. I've always felt that the best sex occurs between two child-like adults, and by that I mean people who don't take themselves too seriously. At least not to the point where they feel sex has become "kid stuff" and somehow beneath their dignity. People who've taken on too much responsibility in life are likely to end up this way by middle-age. Just a warning. Anyway, regular work between the sheets will eventually uncover where all her high water marks are located, and her limits as well. Keep notes on what you're doing to make a girl erotic and of her reactions to your experimental prodding -- silly as this may sound. After you fill a few pages of such notes, go back and search for clues. Look for those things that she seems to enjoy the most and figure out a few clever ways to focus in on them. Now you're ready to lock her Heart up tight, and lock Yourself into the drivers' seat! Once you think you have some idea of what a woman's erotic weaknesses could be (in the sense that she has an intense desire or a "weakness" for certain sorts of positions, fetishes, fantasies, etc.) then you're ready to zoom in on them, expand upon whatever they may be and make them more elaborate. The idea is to become really good at delivering the best CUSTOM sexual experience that she's ever had... and do so time after time. If she wonders what the deal is with your sudden enthusiasm, just tell her that she makes you feel uninhibited like no woman ever has before. This freaks many girls out because most women think that all guys are natural sex-fiends to some degree and don't realize that it often takes someone SPECIAL to actually bring this quality out in them... And for you, that person is HER! Such an attempt to reach out and connect your soul with hers through raw physical pleasure makes a powerful impact that cannot be easily dismissed. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies such feelings will serve to weld these unique moments deep into her unconscious mind. And they will all be connected to YOU... you will always be "that guy" who did "that thing" the night you were both together at "that place". Now you're beginning to see Romantic Enchantment in action! Look, most people pretty much wing it when it comes to sex - they know a few basic moves and make the rest up as they go along. The fact that you have 1) studied your "prey" and determined what really turns her on, and 2) are making an effort to satisfy her in specific ways that tie into these revelations, will surely paint you as a totally different breed of cat. And that's good! Before long you'll be seen as a champion among all the men she's known -- and really, you'll hardly have done anything all that amazing. You'll just be doing things with a little more purpose, direction and creativity than the average Joe. That's male seductive power in action. While the task of enchanting a woman is mainly one of carefully feeding her thrills and absorbing her fears based on what you've learned from your study of her sexual proclivities, one warning however... never bust this illusion by announcing what you're up to. Don't say, "I'm going to make you addicted to me!... " For that matter, NEVER reveal that you're actually seducing a woman either. Once people begin to think they're being manipulated they will throw up massive resistance.

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phroyd · 5 years

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Doris Day, the freckle-faced movie actress whose irrepressible personality and golden voice made her America’s top box-office star in the early 1960s, died on Monday at her home in Carmel Valley, Calif. She was 97.

The Doris Day Animal Foundation announced her death.

Ms. Day began her career as a big-band vocalist, and she was successful almost from the start: One of her first records, “Sentimental Journey,” released in 1945, sold more than a million copies, and she went on to have numerous other hits. The bandleader Les Brown, with whom she sang for several years, once said, “As a singer Doris belongs in the company of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra.”

But it was the movies that made her a star.

Between “Romance on the High Seas” in 1948 and “With Six You Get Eggroll” in 1968, she starred in nearly 40 movies. On the screen she turned from the perky girl next door in the 1950s to the woman next door in a series of 1960s sex comedies that brought her four first-place rankings in the yearly popularity poll of theater owners, an accomplishment equaled by no other actress except Shirley Temple.

In the 1950s she starred, and most often sang, in comedies (“Teacher’s Pet,” “The Tunnel of Love”), musicals (“Calamity Jane,” “April in Paris,” “The Pajama Game”) and melodramas (“Young Man With a Horn,” the Alfred Hitchcock thriller “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” “Love Me or Leave Me”).

James Cagney, her co-star in “Love Me or Leave Me,” said Ms. Day had “the ability to project the simple, direct statement of a simple, direct idea without cluttering it.” He compared her performance to Laurette Taylor’s in “The Glass Menagerie” on Broadway in 1945, widely hailed as one of the greatest performances ever given by an American actor.

She went on to appear in “Pillow Talk” (1959), “Lover Come Back” (1961) and “That Touch of Mink” (1962), fast-paced comedies in which she fended off the advances of Rock Hudson (in the first two films) and Cary Grant (in the third). Those movies, often derided today as examples of the repressed sexuality of the ’50s, were considered daring at the time.

“I suppose she was so clean-cut, with perfect uncapped teeth, freckles and turned-up nose, that people just thought she fitted the concept of a virgin,” Mr. Hudson once said of Ms. Day. “But when we began ‘Pillow Talk’ we thought we’d ruin our careers because the script was pretty daring stuff.” The movie’s plot, he said, “involved nothing more than me trying to seduce Doris for eight reels.”

Following “Pillow Talk,” which won Ms. Day her sole Academy Award nomination, she was called on to defend her virtue for the rest of her career in similar but lesser movies, while Hollywood turned to more honest and graphic screen sex to keep up with the revolution sweeping the world after the introduction of the birth control pill.

Ms. Day turned down the part of Mrs. Robinson, the middle-aged temptress who seduces Dustin Hoffman, in the groundbreaking 1967 film “The Graduate,” because, she said, the notion of an older woman seducing a young man “offended my sense of values.” The part went to Anne Bancroft, who was nominated for an Academy Award.

By the time she retired in 1973, after starring for five years on the hit CBS comedy “The Doris Day Show,” Ms. Day had been dismissed as a goody-two-shoes, the leader of Hollywood’s chastity brigade, and, in the words of the film critic Pauline Kael, ”the all-American middle-aged girl.” The critic Dwight Macdonald wrote of “the Doris Day Syndrome” and defined her as “wholesome as a bowl of cornflakes and at least as sexy.”

But the passing decades have brought a reappraisal, especially by some feminists, of Ms. Day’s screen personality and her achievements. In her book “Holding My Own in No Man’s Land” (1997), the critic Molly Haskell described Ms. Day as ��challenging, in her working-woman roles, the limited destiny of women to marry, live happily ever after and never be heard from again.”

Ms. Day in fact was one of the few actresses of the 1950s and ’60s to play women who had a real profession, and her characters were often more passionate about their career than about their co-stars.

“My public image is unshakably that of America’s wholesome virgin, the girl next door, carefree and brimming with happiness,” she said in “Doris Day: Her Own Story,” a 1976 book by A. E. Hotchner based on a series of interviews he conducted with Ms. Day. “An image, I can assure you, more make-believe than any film part I ever played. But I am Miss Chastity Belt, and that’s all there is to it.”

An Aspiring Dancer

Doris Day was born Doris Mary Anne Kappelhoff in Cincinnati on April 3, 1922. (For years most sources gave her birth year as 1924, and so did she. But shortly before her birthday in 2017, The Associated Press obtained a copy of her birth certificate from the Ohio Office of Vital Statistics and established that she had been born two years earlier. After Ms. Day was shown the evidence, she said in a statement, “I’ve always said that age is just a number and I have never paid much attention to birthdays, but it’s great to finally know how old I really am.”) She was the second child of Frederick William von Kappelhoff, a choral master and piano teacher who later managed restaurants and taverns in Cincinnati, and Alma Sophia (Welz) Kappelhoff. Her parents separated when she was a child.

Ms. Day never wanted to be a movie star. At 15 she was a good enough dancer to win the $500 first prize in an amateur contest. Her mother and the parents of her 12-year-old partner used the money to take them both to Los Angeles for professional dancing lessons. The families intended to move west permanently, but Doris’s right leg was shattered when the automobile in which she was riding was hit by a train.

To distract Doris during the year it took the leg to mend, her mother — who had named her after a movie star, Doris Kenyon — paid for singing lessons. She was a natural.

Ms. Day told Mr. Hotchner that another important thing happened during her year of recuperation: She was given a small dog. “It was the start of what was, for me, a lifelong love affair with the dog,” she said.

That first dog, Tiny, was killed by a car when Ms. Day, still on crutches, took him for a walk without a leash. Nearly 40 years later she spoke of how she had betrayed him. During the last decades of her life, through her foundation, Ms. Day spent much of her time rescuing and finding homes for stray dogs, even personally checking out the backyards and fencing of people who wanted to adopt, and she worked to end the use of animals in cosmetic and household-products research.

After the accident, Ms. Day never went back to school. At 17, having traded her crutches for a cane, she sang in a local club where the owner changed her name because Kappelhoff wouldn’t fit on the marquee. After a few months as a singer with Bob Crosby and His Bobcats in Chicago, she joined Les Brown and His Blue Devils.

Singing was just something to do until she married. ”From the time I was a little girl,” she told Mr. Hotchner, “my only true ambition in life was to get married and tend house and have a family.”

But while Ms. Day was instantly successful as a singer and a movie actress, she was fated always to marry the wrong men. By the time she made her first movie she had been married and divorced twice.

Her first husband, Al Jorden, a trombone player, was violently jealous and had an uncontrollable temper. He hit her on the second day of their marriage and continued to beat her when she became pregnant and refused to have an abortion. She was married at 19, divorced and a mother at 20.

But she was undaunted. “All my life,” she told Mr. Hotchner, “I have known that I could work at whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.”

Her second husband, George Weidler, a saxophonist, was a gentle man. She was happily living with him in a trailer park in Los Angeles when he left, after telling her that he thought she was going to become a big star and that he didn’t want to be Mr. Doris Day.

She was approached at a Hollywood party by the songwriters Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne, who had written the score for “Romance on the High Seas,” a movie planned for Judy Garland. But Garland had turned the role down and Betty Hutton, her replacement, was withdrawing because she was pregnant. Warner Bros. was desperate, and the songwriters insisted that Ms. Day audition for the part.

“Acting in films had never so much as crossed my mind,” she later said.

As candid in real life as her perky screen characters, Ms. Day admitted to the movie’s director, Michael Curtiz, that she had never acted before. But “from the first take onward, I never had any trepidation about what I was called on to do,” she said. “Movie acting came to me with greater ease and naturalness than anything else I had ever done.”

Reviewing “Romance on the High Seas” in The New York Herald Tribune, Howard Barnes wrote, “She has much to learn about acting, but she has personality enough to take her time about it.”

Playing the Wholesome Girl

Under personal contract to Mr. Curtiz, Ms. Day followed “Romance on the High Seas” with a series of musical comedies in which she played the pert and wholesome girl with hair and personality the color of sunlight. But even in the early 1950s she was nobody’s fool, and her characters had an unusual resilience, cockiness and competence.

In “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” (1953), about the trials of a small-town family, Ms. Day is first seen repairing her boyfriend’s car. If her fearless sharpshooting title character in “Calamity Jane” (1953) is finally induced to exchange her buckskins for a dress to wed Howard Keel’s Wild Bill Hickock, she still slips her six-shooter into her pocket to take along on the honeymoon.

And when Ms. Day opened her mouth to sing, the effect was magical. She had a perfectly controlled voice that brimmed with emotion. “It’s Magic,” which she sang in “Romance on the High Seas,” and “I’ll Never Stop Loving You,” which she sang in ”Love Me or Leave Me,” were nominated for Academy Awards for best song. The two with which she is especially identified, “Secret Love,” from “Calamity Jane,” and “Que Sera, Sera,” from “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” won Oscars.

“Doris Day was the most underrated film musical performer of all time,” said Miles Kreuger, president of the Institute of the American Musical. “If only she had been at MGM instead of Warner Bros., they’d have given her challenging roles.”

When Ms. Day did get a chance to stretch as an actress, she could be memorable. In “Love Me or Leave Me” (1955), she gave a stirring performance as the singer Ruth Etting, whose life and career were dominated by a violent manager-husband who had ties to gangsters. She held her own against James Cagney’s powerful performance as the husband and flawlessly sang Etting classics like “Ten Cents a Dance” and “Chasing the Blues Away.”

Ms. Day married for a third time in 1951. Although that marriage, to Martin Melcher, her manager, seemed happy, she discovered after Mr. Melcher’s death in 1968 that he and his lawyer had embezzled or frittered away the $20 million she had earned and had left her $500,000 in debt. She agreed to star in a situation comedy to earn the money to pay off her debts.

That proved to be a wise move financially; “The Doris Day Show” had an extremely successful five-year run. (It underwent a number of changes in that time. Ms. Day’s character, a widow who lived on a ranch with her two children, got a job at a magazine in San Francisco in the show’s second season, and by the fourth season her children had been written out of the show.)

James Garner, who co-starred with Ms. Day in two 1963 films, “The Thrill of It All” and “Move Over, Darling,” told Mr. Hotchner, “Marty was a hustler, a shallow, insecure hustler who always ripped off $50,000 on every one of Doris’s films as the price for making the deal.”

Ms. Day sued the lawyer, Jerome Rosenthal, and eventually won a judgment for more than $22 million in 1974. In a 1986 interview Terry Melcher, her son by Al Jorden, said that she eventually got some of the money from an insurance company but “nothing like that amount.”

In 1976 Ms. Day married Barry Comden, a sometime restaurant manager 11 years her junior. They were divorced in 1981. During her marriage to Mr. Comden, she moved from Los Angeles to Carmel, the picture-postcard town along the California coast where she and her son became part owners of the pet-friendly Cypress Inn. For the rest of her life she lived on a seven-acre estate with many more dogs than the zoning laws allowed. In the 1985-86 television season she was the host of “Doris Day’s Best Friends,” on the Christian Broadcasting Network, which focused on animal welfare.

Terry Melcher, her only child, who became a successful record producer, died in 2004.

In 2011, three years after she received a lifetime achievement Grammy Award, Ms. Day surprised a lot of people by releasing her first album in almost 20 years, “My Heart,” which consisted mostly of songs she had recorded for “Doris Day’s Best Friends” but never released commercially.

Ms. Day, who summed up her fatalistic philosophy in the words of one of her biggest hits, “Que Sera, Sera” (“What will be, will be”), never liked unhappy endings. She told one interviewer: “It upsets me when the hero or heroine dies. I would like them to live happily ever after.”

But, except in movies, nobody lives happily ever after. Ms. Day told Mr. Hotchner: “During the painful and bleak periods I’ve suffered through these past years, my animal family has been a source of joy and strength to me. I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent, devoted companionship of your pets that you can get from no other source.”

“I have never found in a human being,” she added, “loyalty comparable to that of any pet.”

Phroyd

#music #film #doris day

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

ask your destiny to dance [3] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“I think I’m going to start wearing sequins to work.” It’s an idle thought that Ash speaks into existence on Wednesday afternoon in the back of a lecture hall. Freddie’s slumped over his desk, barely paying attention to the professor at the front, and makes a noise of agreement.

“You should; more people should wear sequins to work.” Yawning loudly, he waves off the professor’s stare with a weak smile, before resting his head on his arms to look at Ash. “You’ve already got it ready, don’t you?” Half-smiling as she nods, grinning bashfully.

“Black sequinned, button up, sleeveless.” Whistling low through her teeth, Ash’s eyes glazed over at the mere thought of the shirt. “I’m gonna get so many tips.” After a beat, she flushed, turning her mischievous expression on Freddie. “And Smile’s playing, so Dave’ll be in the back room all night.” At his confused look, Ash leaned down to rest her own cheek against the desk, eye to eye with her friend. “Okay, so they’re the only uni band we hire, usually it’s just middle-aged dudes trying to be hip,” she rolls her eyes at that, and Freddie has to repress a smile of his own, “and good ol’ Uncle Dave takes one look at ‘em walking through the front door and he’ll grab a bottle o’ rum from the back shelf and wave me over to them,” her voice has dropped so that only Freddie could hear her, and he can see her barely contained laughter, “which, while hilarious, means I can wear basically anything I want.”

“Don’t you do that anyways?” Freddie’s grinning outright now, amused at Ash’s quiet passion, but she doesn’t seem offended by the question, just laughs.

“I mean, yeah, but Dave’s always there and I don’t want him seeing me with like, more than three buttons undone.” Sighing wistfully, Ash closes her eyes, lets herself relax against the desk. “But every time Smile plays, he fucks off, I can undo a few extra buttons- Fred, I made like fifty pounds in tips last time! Fifty! Ate like a king at McDonalds that night.” It took everything Freddie had in him not to burst out laughing at her content expression, but moments later when the class was dismissed, he couldn’t help himself.

“At least buy yourself some real food now that you’ve got a job.” He admonishes her, ignoring her groan of protest.

“But no shops are open at two in the morning, Freds,” she whined, dragging her feet as she trailed behind him, cutting through the swathe of other students as they headed to the exit, “at that point I’m just hungry, and hamburgers are easy to find and so good.”

“How you function in regular society continues to baffle me.” He said fondly as the two of them made their way to their favourite afternoon coffee spot, bickering back and forth as they were often want to do. The week passes relatively uneventfully, and by the time it’s Friday, and Dave has complimented her appropriately buttoned, sequinned shirt, - “It’s nice; it’ll go over well with the kids.” - he’s all but absconded into his office as the band walks through the door.

“Evenin’ boys!” Maureen greets them warmly from behind the bar, drying off cups and hanging them up. Ash is already making her way around to greet them, grinning brightly at the trio.

“Hey, how’s it going boys? Ready for a good show?” It’s the fifth time they’ve performed here in just over two months, and Ash feels like she’s really getting to know them. After their final set for the past three times she’s taken a smoke break, the first time she and Brian shared a cigarette, the two of them looking up at the stars as he tried to point out constellations around the light pollution.

“You really know a lot about this stuff, don’t you?” She smiles at him, fondly amused, and he smiles back, a toothy grin filled with pride.

“I’d hope so, uni’s too bloody expensive to have it wasted.” And that’s how she learns he’s studying astrophysics. He joins her again the next time, though she’s quiet, listening as he and Roger banter back and forth about the quality of their performances for the night. Her hatred of Roger had softened somewhat, though it’s probably because she refuses to speak more than three words to him outside of serving him at the bar, so she feels like she hasn’t had to really deal with him.

She’s seen him, of course, picking up pretty girls at Maureen’s end of the bar, the way they practically drape themselves over him at the sofa by the stage, has heard Brian complain more than once;

“At least go to her place, need I remind you how thin our walls are?” And maybe when she hears it for the first time she chokes on smoke in her lungs and Brian has to slap her on the back to try and help her through it. And maybe the second time her pencil presses down on the line of the dress she’s sketching a little too harshly, a little off from where she wanted, enough that she has to scrap the whole page, but that’s just what he’s like, she knew it from the moment she saw him, and part of her thinks she’s happy to be proven right.

The last time they’d played, Tim talked her ear off about his own performance while Roger and Brian loaded their stuff into the back of Roger’s van, and while Tim’s self-importance bored her almost to tears, she amused herself watching Roger become increasingly annoyed. Small victories.

“It’s going well, thanks Rocket, how about you?” Brian puts his guitar case down by the stage to walk forward and wrap Ash in a hug, which she returns.

“I’m good; always better with you guys around, I can pretend I’m in charge.” And she’s grinning brightly when she steps back. Brian’s always been the friendliest of the bunch, well, Roger may take the top spot for that in general, but not in the way that counts. Speaking of Roger, when she spots him, he’s actually giving her a smile, though his eyes are fixed more on her shirt.

“You’re very sparkly tonight, Ash.” Tim’s mild grin snaps her out of where she was forming a suspicious glare at the drummer, and she smoothed out her shirt, enjoying the sensation of the sequins passing beneath her fingers.

“It’s a good look on you.” Roger adds, gaze moving up to look at her face, and she gives him a proud little smirk in return.

“Made it myself.” And she lets herself bathe in the surprised compliments they offered, ignoring Maureen laughing over by the bar. The boys start setting up and Ash heads back to grab them each a drink before students start pouring in.

By the time the first set’s finished, she’s unbuttoned two more buttons on her blouse and had an old man who looked very out of place surrounded by students try and slip £10 directly into her cleavage. Taking the money from him and placing it there herself, she gives him his drink and her most winning smile before turning to the next customer.

“So that’s what it’s for, to distract hapless young men so you can take their cash?” Roger was grinning at her across the bar and Ash felt her whole body tense.

“What?” She snapped, not taking her eyes off of his as she tucked the note further out of sight, though his own eyes followed the movement.

“The shiny shirt.” He explained, finally pulling his gaze back up to meet hers. Gaze icy, she cocked her hip, crossing her arms beneath her chest. A single raised eyebrow was all the answer he received, though it seemed to be enough of a confirmation for him as his smile stretched into one of mischief, and he ordered another round of drinks for the band. She gives him her sharpest smile when she passes them over, but doesn’t say anything, and he leaves with a smirk and an eye roll.

“This whole passive-aggressive ‘hating-me’ thing is getting old, Pocket Rocket.” He’s the only one of the band members who uses the full nickname anymore, and she’s pretty sure he’s taking the piss every time he does. The other two band members are still inside when she goes on her break after they finish for the night. She hasn’t even pulled out her lighter when the back door comes crashing open and Roger walks through; he doesn’t even see her before he starts talking, just knows she’s there.

“Alright, I’ll drop the passive;” she said, focusing on the flick of her her lighter and taking the first puff of the cigarette before looking up at him, “fuck off.” The words were spoken around the cigarette, but even so, a phrase that universal was understandable no matter how it’s said.

“I’m just wondering what I did to warrant it.” Turning, he leaned against the closed doors of the van, crossing his arms as he looks back at her.

“I don’t like you, Roger,” Ash leaned back in kind, kicking her legs out in front of her, crossing her ankles as she relaxed against the brick wall, “because you’re the sort of boy who breaks pretty girls’ hearts.” As if to punctuate her statement, she takes another draft on her cigarette, and tries not to read into the way Roger’s regarding her curiously.

“Pretty girls like you?” It takes her a moment to recognise his tone, not that she hadn’t heard it before, not that hadn’t even used it herself before, but because he’d never been so brazen about it with her. He was flirting! The nerve!

“Oh, you wish.” Ashe couldn’t help but laugh at that, hating the blush that rose in her cheeks as she looked away, casting her gaze to the road at the edge of the car park. Roger watched for a long moment, enjoying the genuine, if amused, smile that lit up her face; he was so used to seeing the artificial mask she put up whenever she focused on him.

“You’re a hypocrite, love.” He calls, and the smile is gone in an instant, replaced with a frown that she levels directly at him. It doesn’t deter him, however, it was something he’d been wanting to bring up for the past two weeks, after he did a little digging about her, seeing if any of his friends from uni knew about her. “Yeah, I know about you and your first year, Ashley.” Her blood runs cold, expression was unreadable, which only served to make him more smug. “We do have a few friends in common, you know; pretty boys with broken hearts.” And finally he felt like he had clawed back to an inch of moral high ground.

For a long moment, she looks at him, expression fading to a thoughtful frown, cigarette sizzling away in her grip, though she did nothing about it. It’s still mostly intact, but she throws it on the ground, stamping the cigarette out with the heel of her boot against the gravel.

“‘s not the same.” Her voice is hollow, lips pursed, avoiding his gaze. Standing, she seems to hover for a moment, unsure of whether or not she was going to head back inside. “I’m a slut but I’m not a romantic about it, I’m not some wannabe rockstar reeling in boys with doe-eyed looks that promise the world, unlike some people.” Whole demeanour shifting, Roger’s surprised when she steps towards him, sneering.

“I never really went for boys.” Roger mused, deliberately missing the point of her words as he moved from the van, meeting her halfway.

“You know what I’m saying; I only ever promised one night, don’t flatter me by thinking that’s all it takes for me to break a heart.” Her voice was a dangerous purr, the two of them standing barely a foot apart.

“And you think one night with me- ?” He’s grinning at her, nothing but amused in the face of her anger.

“Don’t flatter yourself either, you prey upon girls who already think you hang stars in the sky, it’s not the night that breaks them, it’s the morning after.” Ash snarls, her rant having filled her with adrenaline, and she waits, buzzing with anticipating about how he’d respond.

“You willing to test that theory?” With a tilt of his head and a slight smile, he looks her up and down, quietly delighting in the way her expression shifts from thinly veiled rage to shock.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words spill from her mouth, as if she’s barely aware of them, but Roger huffs out a laugh.

“I’m willing to try anything to get you to stop glaring at me when I come up for a beer.” He murmured with a cheeky grin, and there’s that rage again, clear as day in her eyes. “Love, you’re like me,” he says it like it’s a compliment, reaching his hand to hold her chin. Something in his heart grew warm watching the way the gentle touch changed her expression from furious to softly surprised, “so we can both know it’s just a bit of fun, nothing more.”

“So which girl do you have lined up for when I say no?” Her voice tone was quietly accusing, and Roger raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“None.” He admitted easily. “I’m only promising one night, and you get to test that broken heart theory of yours.”

“God, you’re so fucking arrogant,” she mumbled under her breath, squinting up at him; “one night,” she agrees, “and no I don’t think you hang stars in the sky, so there’s no chance of heartbreak.”

“But what if you’re the heart breaker?” Roger asks, mostly joking, though he’s already sliding his hand around her waist, pulling her close.

“Then you should have developed a harder heart before trying to sleep your way across the UK.” And she’s smiling in return, moving with him as he pulls her in for a kiss. He tastes like beer mostly, the scents of the pub sticking to him as she wraps her arms around him. Pulse racing, she’s the one who deepens the kiss, shifting to her tiptoes to get closer to him, but that only makes him laugh and pull away.

“This is the single worst pick up I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.” She purses her lips, breaking the embrace as she begins to step back to the bar.

“Does that include the middle-aged man slipped a tenner in between your boobs?” Roger calls after her, and to his surprise, Ash is smiling back at him when she looks over her shoulder, sunny and amused.

“Well yeah, I got a ten pounds out of it, didn’t I?” And he can’t really argue with her logic as he begins to follow her back inside to the rest of the band. “What do I get from you?” She smirks, and Roger lengthens his stride to join her as she walks through the door.

“I can’t tell you with company around.” His voice low as he murmured in her ear.grinning as she let out a quiet squeak of surprise. “But it’ll be worth it.”

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe @laueecakee@smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings@2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times@heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98

[buy me a coffee?]

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #brian may #ask your destiny to dance fic #the angry lizard writes

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silverineontherun · 5 years

Text

A Shance/Jeith Valentine’s Fic

No, aliens didn’t brainwash me. I’m still your good ol’ KL stan, but this time I’m bringing a humble (and late) offering to my two wives, kunfetti and @birdsandivory, who deal with me on a daily basis, support me and make my life better. Also, I admit I’m like a lousy husband who smashes together two festivities because this was going to be a Xmas present, but the whole premise was much better for Valentine’s so... here we are. I hope you like it! <3

There are three parts: An introduction, a Shance fic and a Jeith fic. You can pick which one to read first, or not read the other if it isn’t your cup of tea! // LINKS MAY NOT WORK ON MOBILE, please try reading on pc in that case!

T rated, around 2.5k each part, Canon divergence, set somewhere in S8 I guess (but who cares, right?), Atlas background. Lance and James make a deal to get their men on this special date. Enjoy!

*****

It’s the most unlikely alliance to ever exist. It entails swallowing his pride and clenching his teeth for it. But all’s fair in love and war, and there’s really no better way to achieve the goal this time.

At least that is Lance’s conclusion, as he waits for the missing piece of the puzzle to appear, hoping his plan will work.

“Griffin,” he calls, intercepting James just outside the gym. The pilot raises an eyebrow and gets closer to the paladin, drinking from his water bottle and making a questioning grunt.

Lance sighs. They never exchanged more words than necessary before, given that silent bad blood they had since their Garrison days but... he thinks this is necessary, after all.

“Hey, dude. So, uh, been meaning to ask… What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”

James chokes on his water, spitting part of it. Lance gets out of the way just in time, frowning.

“Gross!”

“Wh-why are you even asking, McClain?!” asks James, still coughing.

Lance realizes too late that his wording may have been slightly confusing and, scrunching his nose, he hurries to add:

“Wait, no, nonono, no one is asking you out! Jeez, dude. I just have something important to discuss with you about it.” He crosses his arms and cocks his hip, staring at James from head to toe, the pilot looking flustered in his gym attire. Surprisingly, not at bad sight. Would this really work? In all fairness, if it did, he’d be doing a favor for a bro in the way, so it’s not like he is twisting things for his own benefit only… right?

Right. But he needs to confirm his suspicions first, and since time presses, subtlety is a luxury he can’t afford. So…

“Say, Griffin... You have the hots for Keith, don’t you?” he asks, blunt and direct.

Another fit of coughing has James now tearing up, completely flushed. Lance growls, irritated.

“C’mon, dude, pull yourself together!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” yells James, but when other members of the Atlas crew look at him scandalized, he lowers his tone, still beet red. “Why are you asking me these things?!”

“I said I need to discuss something important! Actually, more like ask for a favor, I guess, though I think it could work both ways,” confesses Lance, scratching his chin.

“What does it have to do with— What the—?”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

“I HAVEN’T—”

“Ugh, man, c’mon! Okay, listen, I have no reason to trust you, and you have no reason to trust me, but know that if I’m doing this, it’s only because I’m desperate,” Lance declares. His eyebrows knit in the middle as he gets menacingly close to James. “So, I need your help and I’m gonna explain why. However, if you tell anybody about what you’re about to hear, you’ll find yourself mysteriously tossed into the trash shuttle to never be found again…”

“You come to me, attack me with random questions, threaten me and expect me to help you? Are you serious?” asks James, baffled.

“Yes! Exactly. And now I’m about to tell you a secret that you’ll protect with your life, Unibang,” mumbles Lance, looking side to side and behind him before getting even closer to James, who touches his bangs on reflex and is boiling with irritation. “So. I may be in need of some time alone with uhm… Captain Shirogane. To settle some matters. Personal matters, if you catch my meaning...”

James’ irritation gives way to a mocking scoff.

“Pff, that’s no secret. Anyone with two eyes knows that already,” he sneers.

“Excuse me?!” exclaims Lance, eyes wide-open.

“Not very subtle about that crush, McClain. You’re a paladin and all, but you’re still a loudmouth clown,” says James, one corner of his mouth crooking in a shit-eating grin. Lance blushes, clenching his fists in a comical pouty expression.

“Says who? Mullet-lover? Number one member of Keith’s fans club, sighing in the corners for him?” he retorts, going for his most annoying voice, the same he used multiple times with Keith himself.

“What?!” James’ smile disappears, and red tint smears his cheeks and ears again. Lance laughs.

“No use denying it! I can smell that sexual tension between you two from across the Atlas, it’s honestly distracting…”

“There’s no such thing!”

“Dude. The looks. Are you serious?” asks Lance.

“There’s no such thing,” repeats James, this time softer. He lowers his eyes. “He doesn’t look at me that way. You’re wrong.”

There’s a small pause, while a group of cadets leaves the gym waving at Lance, who waves back at them casually smiling before crossing his arms and tilting his body towards James.

“Oh my god, you’re pitiful,” he deadpans.

“Shut up!”

“No, for real dude, now I think I’m the one who’ll do you a favor,” says Lance, pity seeping into his voice, making James wince.

“I’m not helping you!” he growls.

“Helping me? Bro, you need more help than me. Listen, this is our chance to spend some time with these two oblivious numbskulls. Quality time, I mean?” mutters Lance, and James can’t help but feel his interest peaking.

“How?” he asks, resigned to prove Lance right. The twitch on the paladin’s lip shows he noticed that, but at least he has the delicacy to not tease him about it this time.

“Well, this is our first Valentine’s aboard the Atlas, and the non-humans are all crazy about it, they find it so cute.” Lance rolls his eyes, but smiles. “I guess it is. From what I heard, everyone is preparing for tomorrow but that means getting free time will be harder than usual... So people are trying to take shifts with their friends and preparing weird gifts… do you have any friends, by the way?” asks Lance, putting a condescending hand on the pilot’s shoulder.

“Of course I do, jerk,” answers James, slapping the hand away.

“Oh, too bad. Because you’ll have to ditch them,” Lance shrugs.

“And for what?” grumbles James, starting to lose his patience.

“Well. Here’s the thing. If I want to spend some time with Shiro tomorrow, I need an excuse for Keith to go somewhere else, because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what Valentine’s is... so that means he’ll stay glued to Shiro like any ordinary day,” explains Lance.

These words seem to affect James. He makes an angry pout, crossing his arms.

“Haven’t you considered that maybe that’s what they want? Why would we get in their way?” he asks, in a tone way too resentful.

That pouty face shifts to anger when Lance snorts and then lets a sing-song laugh resound through the corridor.

“Oh, man. Ooooh man. If that’s what worries you, let me tell you: we’ll do them a favor too. When they are together they only have these long-ass conversations about life and duty that are NOT for people their age,” says Lance. Smirking, he adds: “It’s like going to prom with your sister, dude. For real, Griffin, get your head in the game... now I see why you’re doing zero progress.”

“Well, excuse me for knowing nothing about your personal affairs, paladins,” grunts James, offended. And, yeah, he won’t admit it, but clearly relieved too. Lance can't help grinning.

“I’m giving you privileged info here, you’re welcome! Anyways, that’s still a problem, because they are two crazy workaholics and you can bet your ass that Keith will go to Shiro if he gets bored with no one around. And since everyone else is busy… I need you to distract him. See where I’m going?” he asks, making finger guns at James, who looks at him unimpressed.

“In fact, no.”

“C’mon! I’m asking you to be Keith’s date tomorrow!” exclaims Lance, and James blushes again.

“What makes you think he’ll accept something like that?”

“He doesn’t have to! You can casually go meet him and distract him with, I don’t know, some work related stuff I guess. Knives and cosmic wolves are other topics he enjoys if that tickles your fancy,” says Lance, rolling his eyes. “You stay with him, I stay with Shiro, and we both win. Easy peasy.”

James opens his mouth to protest and refuse, but he discovers that, surprisingly, there’s no real reason to say no. Frowning, he sweeps his fingers through his face, thinking.

What’s the worst that could happen? If he goes to Keith and he is dismissed it’ll be alright. Of course, if he lets Keith go back to Shiro he’ll never hear the end of it from Lance, but asides from that… what’s there to lose?

This conclusion must appear on his face because Lance smirks at his expression, cunning and mischievous.

“So… I take it we have a deal?��

And James can’t even believe when he hears himself say:

“Yeah... Yeah, alright.”

*****

They are outside the first floor common lounge. People are loud all around and in the halls, some working, some enjoying the sudden Valentine’s spirit forced into the Atlas corridors, though some interpretations are kind of questionable. They see a few people wearing weird costumes and eating strange things, and Lance and James look at each other confused, but too nervous to comment on it. The paladin taps his foot insistently, while the pilot watches how people start disappearing into other rooms and floors, signaling that it’s time for them to move. Their intel told them they have two objectives to cover: The Captain’s quarters, and the Lion’s Bay.

“You ready?” asks Lance.

“... Yeah,” answers James, not ready at all.

“I need more conviction than that, please,” demands Lance, twisting his hands, tense. James eyes his motions with curiosity.

“This was your idea, why are you so nervous?” he asks.

Lance stops moving and stares at James with an abnormally soft expression.

“I have my reasons, dude. Unlike you, I think I only have a fifty percent chance to succeed, at most. That’s, like... fifty percent chance to fail and die of embarrassment too.”

For once, Lance is devoid of all his usual flair and confidence, and James feels like he is finally catching a glimpse of the real McClain under these loud, colorful layers. And, honestly? This dude is not so bad.

“Who’s pitiful now?” he asks, but it’s not ill-intended. Lance gives him a look, but then scoffs and the smirk stays on his face.

“Yeah, enjoy gloating while I try to save our Valentine’s Day. Friendly reminder that you’d be weeping in a corner forever if not for my brilliant idea, though. I’m not letting you live it down,” he says, bumping their shoulders.

“Maybe I’ll be weeping in a corner tomorrow,” mumbles James.

It’s weird how easily he is allowing himself to show his fear, wondering if he isn’t making a mistake, putting himself in such a vulnerable spot. But the hand that comes to rest over his shoulder this time is not condescending, but encouraging.

“Relax, it’ll be alright,” assures Lance, shaking James’ shoulder. “Believe it or not… I consider Keith a friend. And I know him enough to say I’m not joking about the tension between you two. Things will work out, but! You gotta be tough as nails, Mullet-man can be a handful if he wants to.”

James laughs, already feeling better.

“I’ll take your word, then. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. But please don’t piss him off, if he storms in while I’m working my magic with Shiro, I’ll die and my ghost is gonna haunt you forever,” warns him Lance, pointing a finger at him. James scrunches his nose.

“Do I want to know…?”

“Nope,” cuts Lance. But then the accusing finger becomes an extended hand and James, after doubting a second, takes it in a brotherly clasp.

“Good luck, dude. Don’t mess it up,” says Lance.

“You too. Go for the good fifty percent,” answers James, making the other smile cheekily.

“Hah. You bet!”

After that, they let go and walk in opposite directions, both shivering slightly, scared and excited in equal parts. And also, even though they don’t know it, both making a mental note to let the other know at breakfast how everything goes. Maybe to cry in each other’s shoulder, should it all go really, really, really bad.

If it even goes, to begin with…

So, who would you like to follow?

FOLLOW LANCE FOLLOW JAMES

(Links may not work on mobile, I’m trying to figure this out. Stupid app.)

#shance #jeith #jaith #vld fic #silv writes

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themadamelibrarian · 5 years

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Written By: @themadamelibrarian & @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Lucifer/Sam Winchester Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural), Lucifer (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Porn, Angelcest, Daddy!Kink, Spanking, Of the fun variety, Light Bondage, Orgasm Denial, Anal Sex, Double Anal Penetration, Age Regression/De-Aging, Non Sexual Age Regression, cursing, wing!kink, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Insecure!Lucifer, Nesting, Regressed!Lucifer, Disapproving!Dean, Do you want to build a demon?, Bottom!Gabriel, Top!Sam, Switch!Lucifer, Cuddling Series: Part 2 of Loving Heart Summary: It's fairly soon after Lucifer realizes that he's safe and that he's not going to be punished by Dean, Castiel, Sam and Gabriel for his past sins. He finds most comfort in Gabriel and Sam, but he still has difficulties expressing his love for them.

Author Note: This Aesthetic was made by the lovely @wearywinchester. It’s perfect and I love it. Thank you, Weary, from the bottom of my heart.

Share this story and show support for the creator!

Tagging: @thenanahunter @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @idabbleincrazy @copperseraphim

Chapter 1

It’d been nearly a year since Lucifer had accepted the fact that the other inhabitants of the bunker, namely Castiel, Gabriel and then the Winchesters, weren’t going to punish him for past sins. Since then, the angels had built their nest in Lucifer’s room and now more often than not the five of them would end up there, curled around each other like a pile of newborn kittens. Other than that the day to day lives of the hunters hadn’t changed all that much. They still went out to kill the monsters threatening innocent lives while Lucifer and Gabriel hung back and did their own thing. They’d found early on that for the average hunt having two archangels, a seraph and two seasoned hunters was over kill.

On this particular night, the two eldest angels found themselves just enjoying the quiet of their home while the others took care of a werewolf four states away. Gabriel also used this as an opportunity to continue his mission to make sure Lucifer stayed current on the latest movies. So that’s how the previous Lord and Master of Hell found himself curled up in the nest while Gabriel loaded Frozen into their disk player.

“You’ll love it, Luci’. You can’t go wrong with Disney.” Gabriel chirped happily as he bounded back to the nest and burrowed into the blankets piled in the center.

Lucifer laughed and snuggled deeper under the covers. “If you say so, Gabriel,” he said.

“I don’t say so, I know so. Now shush...it’s starting.” Gabriel said as he leaned against Lucifer.

Twenty minutes into the movie and Gabriel raised his eyebrow at the screen. “I may have been wrong about this movie. Is it just me or is the relationship Kristoff has with that reindeer disturbingly close?”

“Thanks for putting mental images in my head that I don’t want,” Lucifer said with a shudder. “Say, Gabe. . . “ He grinned at his younger brother. “Do you wanna build a demon?” he sang to the tune of “Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?”

Gabriel scoffed as he playfully shoved Lucifer. “No, I don’t. You tried that once and look how Lilith turned out. All creepy white eyes and vapid.”

“Yes, Lilith had some flaws. But she was my first. Now Cain. . .” Lucifer chuckled. “He was a masterpiece. One of the best. As well as Alastair.”

Gabriel nodded as he thought about it. “I’ll give you kudos for Cain for the sacrifice factor but Alastair was a sadistic narcissist.” Gabriel stopped and tilted his head in thought. “Or was that pride?”

“Definitely pride, but that pride was well deserved,” Lucifer purred softly. “Alastair was an artist with a bloody canvas. His nickname was Picasso with a Razor, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel turned his head from where it rested on Lucifer’s stomach. “You realize that Picasso was nearsighted and couldn’t line up eyes properly, right?”

“Where do you think the Picasso lineage came from, brother mine?” Lucifer asked with an arched brow.

“Great, another artist inspired by demon kind. As if we needed more of them after the dark and middle ages.” He said, rolling back over to watch the movie. “But to answer your original question, No I don’t want to build a demon. I built a platypus already. My life goals are complete"

Lucifer laughed. “So are mine.” He paused. “Never mind. Sam’s still on the list.”

Gabriel sat up suddenly and glared at Lucifer like he’d just tried to steal away a favorite toy. Which in the Trickster’s mind, wouldn’t be too far from the truth. For months he’d been harboring a crush, for lack of a better description, on the youngest Winchester, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to do anything about it. “Sam?! What the hell is Sam doing on your bucket list?”

Lucifer coughed. “Nothing, it’s nothing of importance,” he said hastily.

“I call bullshit, Morningstar.” Gabriel snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you wanting with Sam?”

Lucifer gave his brother a plaintive look. “Nope. Not saying.” He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

“Well, whatever you’re planning you can just forget about it.” Gabriel unwound himself and crawled out of the nest, clearly disturbed, but not wanting to admit to Lucifer that he has feelings for the human. He wasn’t even completely sure if Sam was even into men, but there were subtle hints that it was a possibility. So subtle that Gabriel figured that Dean didn’t even guess at his own brothers preferences.

“Oh, and why is that, Gabriel?” Lucifer asked, giving his brother a look. “Is it because you have feelings for him?”

Gabriel sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe..I don’t know.”

Lucifer smiled warmly “You do,” he hummed.

“Yea, well. I’m too chicken to tell him. What if he doesn’t even like males? I’m too set in this vessel to go changing now.” Gabriel turned to look at his brother forlornly.

Lucifer gave his younger brother a look. “Did it ever occur to you to ask me since I’ve inhabited Sam Winchester?” he asked. “Sam’s bi, he goes for both genders.”

“Really?” Gabriel’s face brightened at the news but it didn’t last long. “So, does you having plans for him mean you want him too?”

“Can you blame me?” Lucifer asked softly, almost too soft for Gabriel to hear. “He’s helped me, a lot. Not saying the rest of you haven’t, but it’s. . . it’s different with Sam, you know?” He shrugged. “Just. . . the way I’ve always felt. But like he’s ever going to consider me as a dating partner. I mean, yeah, I know he’s forgiven me and all, but I still am not exactly the kind of man you want to bring home to big brother.”

“No one wants to be brought home to Dean.” Gabriel said with a shrug. “Except maybe Cas.” Sighing he crawled back into the nest and curled against Lucifer’s side. “What a pair we are. Both of us the first born of the Host and scared of what a human thinks. A really great human.”

Lucifer nodded, tucking himself around his brother. “One of Father’s best.” he agreed, nosing Gabriel’s hair. An idea struck him. “Gabe. What if weboth approach Sam?” he asked. “Like. . . Together. Offer us as a package deal?”

“I don’t know, Luci’. Us as a package deal for Sam might freak him out.” Gabriel toyed with the collar of Lucifer’s shirt. “It’s toeing a few human taboos.”

“Like Sam hasn’t broken a few human taboos and a couple of the supernatural ones as well,” Lucifer pointed out. “I mean, the stuff he did with Ruby. . . “ he whistled. “And the couple other things. . . well, Sam’s not as clean cut and neat like Dean is in the bedroom.”

“We really need to get you and Castiel to stop gossiping about Dean.” Gabriel said with a chuckle.

Lucifer chuckled and shrugged. “But it’d work, don’t you think?”

“It might. How do we go about it? Wine him and dine him?” Gabriel asked as he pulled back to look up at Lucifer.

Lucifer hummed as he thought. “Bluntness is usually the best course of action with Sam,” he said. “No tricks. Just lay out what we want on the table, and let him know it’s up for negotiation. Both in and out of the bedroom, although we should start with out of the bedroom first.”

“That sounds reasonable. But I would suggest we do it when Dean is out of the bunker.” Gabriel laid back and stared at the ceiling above as he thought of the logistics of asking someone to participate in such a relationship. “The last thing we want is for him to go Papa Bear on our asses.”

Lucifer shuddered. “Agreed. Say, think we should send the lovebirds on vacation?” he said, looking over at Gabriel. “Motel out in Cali, along the beach, honeymoon suite, the whole kit and kaboodle?”

“I know Cas would enjoy it.” He turned and smiled at Lucifer. “Not sure Dean would but he’s a sucker for making Cas happy.”

Lucifer nodded and smiled back. “So, we should come up with our own things that we want from Sam so we know exactly what we’re presenting him with.” He said. “Or each other,” he added underneath his breath.

“I’m a simple being. I just want him. To be with him and make him smile.” Gabriel turned on his side and wound his fingers with Lucifer’s. “But you. Our history runs so far back it’s hard to quantify us.”

Lucifer smiled and squeezed his interlinked hand. “It does, doesn’t it?” he agreed. “Lots of history. Good and bad.”

“The big question is are we ready to take this kind of step with each other?” Gabriel looked a bit worried. “It’s been a very long time since either of us have been with our own kind.”

Lucifer cupped the side of his face with his free hand. “I think we are,” he admitted.

Gabriel leaned towards Lucifer and kissed him softly to test the waters, so to speak. His lips moved tentatively as a thrill ran through him at kissing someone who mattered to him and wasn’t dismissible when it was over. Someone he cared about and cared for him in return.

Lucifer moved his hand to the back of his brother’s head and returned the kiss with a soft sigh, feeling like a spark of electricity went through him at the idea of being someone who actually liked him for him, who didn’t care about what he had done in the past.

Letting out a needy sounding whimper, Gabriel grasped Lucifer’s waist with his free hand, leaning further into the kiss. The tip of his tongue flicking across the older angel’s plump bottom lip. “Luci’.” He whispered as the desire for more was quickly growing inside him.

“Gabe,” Lucifer whispered back, running his hand down Gabriel’s back with a light touch, still holding on tightly to Gabriel’s other hand. “Want you. Need you.” He’s felt these desires before, but never had they arisen so quickly. It scared and excited the older angel and he dove back into the younger’s mouth, desperate and needy for more.

Gabriel rolled so that he was draped on top of Lucifer, his thigh falling in between his brother’s. Licking his way into Lucifer’s mouth, his hands rucked up his shirt in search of the warm flesh underneath. Finding what he craved, Gabriel carefully scraped his nails along Lucifer’s abdomen, drawing out tantalizing sounds from the other angel.

Lucifer moaned quietly, so soft it could barely be heard as he used his own hands to push up Gabriel’s shirt, running his hands gently up and down the expanse of Gabriel’s back, trapping his brother’s leg with his own.

Pulling back from the kiss with a gasp for air, he looked down at Lucifer as he rolled his hips. The slide of his hardening cock against the blade of Lucifer’s hip dragged a low, filthy moan from his throat.

Lucifer moaned low as he arched his back and tilted his head, exposing the long column of his pale throat. He rolled his hips in reply, his own hardening cock gliding smoothly against Gabriel’s thigh.

“Heylel.” The smaller archangel whispered as he kissed down Lucifer’s throat to nip at his exposed collarbone. Shifting his thigh to grind against Lucifer. “Please tell me you’re a top.”

Lucifer groaned and ground back against Gabriel. “I’m whatever you want me to be, Gabe,” he whispered, leaning up to nip at Gabriel’s jaw. “Can be either or.”

Gabriel sighed happily as he reached down between them to palm at Lucifer’s erection. “Then I want you inside me.”

Lucifer groaned and rocked his hips up and into Gabriel’s hand. “Then I suggest you hop on, the,” he whispered.

Sitting up, Gabriel peeled off his shirt and tossed it into the jumble of blankets in the nest. “This’ll add a new and interesting layer of smells to the nest.” He smiled as he ran a hand down Lucifer’s chest. “And that’s what you have too many of. Layers.”

Lucifer laughed and pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. “Better?” he teased.

“Much.” Gabriel pushed his sleep pants off his legs and moved to straddle Lucifer’s hips as he snaps his fingers, willing a bottle of lube into his hand. “Care to help me get ready for you?”

“Of course,” Lucifer hummed, sitting up slightly and taking the lube out of Gabriel’s hand. He opened it and poured a generous amount onto his fingers, warming it up a bit before reaching around and beginning to run his finger lightly over his brother’s hole. “One day,” he breathed into Gabriel’s ear. “I wanna open you up with my tongue, taste you.”

“Oh fuck, Heylel.” He moaned as he pushed his hips back in an attempt to get Lucifer’s fingers into him. “Want that too. Want your tongue in me while I suck you.”

Lucifer groaned and slowly pushed the first finger in. “Fuck, Gabriel,” he whispered. “Yes, I’d love that. Having two things filling you up, getting you nice and wet for me. And let me tell you, you’ll be so thankful for my tongue by the time I deem you’re ready for my cock. It’ll open you up so nicely as I slide right in, attacking these lips.” He brought his free hand and ran his thumb along Gabriel’s lower lip. “Bet these get nice and shiny and wet when you suck me off, with the prettiest red color.”

“Let’s find out.” Gabriel bit at the pad of his brother’s thumb before backing away without breaking eye contact. “Gonna suck you right now while you fuck me open with those lovely, long fingers of yours.” He swung his legs around so that he was kneeling beside Lucifer, presenting his ass in the air. Reaching into Lucifer’s pants, Gabriel pulled out his hard cock and gave it a few strokes before wrapping his lips around the tip, sucking lightly as if he were kissing it.

Lucifer groaned and pressed his finger deeper into Gabriel’s plush rear. “Fuck, Gabe, your mouth,” he praised. His second finger absently rubbed the outside of Gabriel’s rim, his free hand coming up to grab his brother’s ass.

“Knew my lollipop habit would pay off.” Gabriel groaned at the feel of Lucifer’s finger stroking inside him. Opening his mouth a little wider, he took Lucifer in as far as he could go, his hand stroking along the part of the shaft he couldn’t fit. Hollowing his cheeks, Gabriel drew up to the tip and swirled his tongue over the slit.

Lucifer moaned and rocked his hips gently, his head resting back on his shoulders as he slowly inserted the second finger into Gabriel. “Fuck, you’re good, yes, keep doing that,” he groaned.

With sharp intake of breath, he twisted his hips, driving Lucifer’s fingers deeper into him as his muscles clench around them. “I won’t stop if you don’t.” Swallowing Lucifer’s cock once more, he started moving quickly up and down the hard length of him, all the while moaning and whimpering around him. Gabriel’s own cock hanging heavy between his legs, leaving a clear trail of precome on Lucifer’s chest.

Lucifer began to scissor Gabriel open, swearing elegantly as he did so. His hips rocked in time to Gabriel’s bobbing, his other hand still grabbing and squeezing Gabriel’s rear.

“Oh..oh..right there, Heylel..” Gabriel plead as he pulled off of Lucifer’s cock to take his own in hand, lazily stroking as pleasurable pressure courses through him, building up into what he expects will be a phenomenal orgasm. “Could come from your fingers alone.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Lucifer chuckled, giving Gabriel a light spank as he inserted the third finger. “And maybe one day, we’ll explore that, hmmm? But I want to see you ride me, wanna feel you clenching around my cock as you lose control.”

“Please…” Gabriel moaned as he released the grip on his cock “Give it to me..need to feel your cock in me..I’m so damned ready.”

Lucifer withdrew his fingers and landed another smack on his ass. “Hurry up, then,” he growled softly.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?” Gabriel grinned as he turned around to face him. Unfurling his wings with a flap that sounded like sun dried sheets snapping in the wind. Grabbing the base of Lucifer’s cock, he guided the head to his slicked hole and slowly lowered himself down. His mouth falling open in a silent moan, he kept going until he got his brother buried deep inside with their hips flush together.

Lucifer groaned and arched his back, bringing out his own wings as Gabriel made sure he was buried deep inside of him. His long fingers gripped Gabriel’s hips tightly, hard enough to bruise the skin beneath of them, looking up at his brother. “Fuck, Gabe, you’re gorgeous,” he said softly.

Leaning down, Gabriel kissed him softly as he rolled his hips, moving in slow circles to enjoy the pleasurable burn of being stretched open on his brother’s cock. “Not as beautiful as you, my Morningstar.” He panted out.

Lucifer kissed him back just as softly, rubbing small circles on Gabriel’s hips with his thumbs. “If you say so.” he groaned out. He rolled his hips underneath of him as a counter to his brother’s. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he added, kissing him again. “My Messenger.”

Groaning into the kiss, Gabriel lifted himself up to the tip of Lucifer’s cock before slamming his hips down again. The motion dragging a choked sob from Gabriel’s throat. With quick, sharp movements his hand clawed at Lucifer’s side. His cries filling the room as he sought to get as close to his brother as possible. “More, Heylel. Need more.”

Lucifer roughly kissed Gabriel as he began to snap his hips furiously against Gabriel’s. His nails digging into his hips, leaving half moon indentations into the tender skin. “This enough or do you need even more?” he rasped against Gabriel's lips.

Reaching around Lucifer’s shoulders, Gabriel dug his fingers into the downy lining of his wings as his moans turn into guttural gasps as the edge of his orgasm rushed on. “Per..perfect.”

Lucifer gasped and grabbed tightly onto the soft gold primary feathers of his brother’s wings, bucking his hips up vigorously into his brother. “Come on, Gabe, cum for me,” he groaned. “Cum for me.”

Opening his golden eyes to look into Lucifer’s, his jaw dropping open in a silent scream, his back arching up as his cock jerked between them. Come spurting in thick ropes, leaving behind a coating on Lucifer’s stomach.

Lucifer managed to thrust into Gabriel a few more times before slamming Gabriel’s hips down onto his own as he came deep inside of him.

Wings quivering above them, Gabriel clenched around Lucifer as he rode him through both of their peaks. When most of the shudders and spasms had passed, Gabriel slumped against his brother’s shoulder with a contented sigh, his grace singing within him in a way that he’d not experienced in millennia, perhaps even eons. “I’ve missed feeling someone real.”

Lucifer panted and held his brother close, running gentle hands up and down his back. He nodded in agreement. “I’ve missed feeling someone in general.” he admitted.

Tilting his face, he placed a soft kiss just below Lucifer’s ear. “You have me now.” He whispered. “Barring everything else, you’ll have me, Heylel.”

Lucifer shivered and buried his nose into his brother’s hair. “Thank Father for that,” he whispered back.

With a slight wince, Gabriel shifted, letting Lucifer slip out of him so that he could curl up against his side. His finger trailing through the mess he left behind while he thought. “Do you really think this will work? I mean with you, me and Sam?”

“I think it will,” Lucifer said. “We’ll need to work as a team, but we’ve done that before. Just have faith, brother.”

“Faith. I almost forget what that’s like.” Gabriel said softly as he wrapped his wing around them. “But I can try.”

#Madamelibrarian writing with friends #My Writing #Supernatural #Fanfiction #spn fanfic #Gabriel/Sam/Lucifer #sam winchester #gabriel #lucifer

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