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punemy-spotted · 3 years

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The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #steve rogers x reader #mob!au #mob!steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #dark!fic #dark captain america #captain america #writing challenge

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thewritingmagician2022 · 2 years

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Lover - Taylor Swift - Brothers and Dateables

Lucifer: False God

They say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith But we might just get away with it Religion's in your lips Even if it's a false god We'd still worship this love

Sacrilegious Lucifer? It’s more likely than you think. The smooth jazz sound of this sound, the blatant sexuality laced with tenderness, the blasphemy of considering your relationship with a demon as a religion all its own. It’s perfect. Lucifer would absolutely fuck you to this song.

Mammon: Paper Rings

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings You're the one I want I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Darling, you're the one I want

Greedy, greedy Mammon who is obsessed with having the best of the best but would give it all up in a heartbeat if you asked him to. He was just supposed to be your demon nanny but somehow you managed to burrow right under his skin and make a home for yourself, you stupid lovely human. Even though he’d never willingly admit it, he’d marry you with paper rings or even no rings if it meant he could have you. What does stuff matter when he has you?

Levi: Nice to Have a Friend

"Wanna hang out?" Yeah, sounds like fun Video games, you pass me a note Sleeping in tents It's nice to have a friend

A HIGHLY underrated song from this album and one of my favorites. It’s so so soft and fits your friendship/relationship with Levi perfectly. The slow progression from friends playing video games to confidants to lovers; all paired with the underlying theme of being best friends at the core and that being the most important aspect. Chefs kiss.

Satan: Lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Another very soft song. A promise of dedication to someone, of building a life together where the other will always have a seat saved for them. You and Satan could absolutely dance around listening to this song, and it got him thinking about his past and how he never fully felt he could be more than Lucifer’s wrath until you showed up and taught him he can be his own person.

Asmo: I Think He Knows

He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans He's so obsessed with me, and boy I understand

Another highly underrated song on the album. A wonderful bop for that infatuation stage you first have with someone new in your life. This song sounds how I imagine Asmo would make you feel: a quick beating heart, an extra skip to your step, and constantly daydreaming about him. Of course, he would be the same way, and I love the energy of knowing the person you’re obsessed with is just as into you.

Beel: London Boy

He likes my American smile Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

I think this particular section is the entire selling point. London Boy may not work super well with Beel, though maybe it does considering the stoic nature of the British/demons compared to the exuberance of Americans/humans and you being shown all around his homeland, but mainly I was sold by the idea of Beel being absolutely smitten with his curious, bubbly human who loves him so openly and deeply despite his sin and demonic nature.

Belphie: Cruel Summer

Killing me slow, out the window I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

If the song doesn’t make you feel a little unhinged, can it really be paired with Belphie? I swear this song always makes me feral, the same way he does. It’s knowing something is such a bad decision and doing it anyway (helping him out of the attic) and then inevitably falling for that person when you know it can’t be a thing because the people around you (and the murder) make it impossible. You accidentally fell in love with your murderer and, honestly, I can’t think of a crueler love or a better brother to fit “he looks up grinning like a devil”.

Diavolo: Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

It's you and me There's nothing like this Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince We're so sad, we paint the town blue Voted most likely to run away with you

One of my first UR cards was Diavolo’s “it’s lonely being me” and I’ve been tormented by the idea of how isolating Diavolo’s life must be and then the birthday event really solidified the fact that this poor man believes he really has subjects, not friends. You’re the only person he knows wants him for him, not his status, and you’re so genuine in every interaction with him. He would love to just run away with you and you would, if he asked.

Barbatos: The Archer

All the king's horses, all the king's men Couldn't put me together again 'Cause all of my enemies started out friends Help me hold onto you

This choice is heavily influenced by the sound of the song; slow and steady until the emotional build up at the end where you can hear the desperate need for a lasting connection. It makes me think of Barbatos and his inability to dedicate his life/time to others due to his role and how his experience with time travel would make him even more susceptible to the sadness of trying to hold onto something or someone.

Solomon: Cornelia Street

Barefoot in the kitchen Sacred new beginnings That became my religion, listen I hope I never lose you I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

Same vulnerability as The Archer but on the positive side rather than the sad side. A hopeful new beginning with someone that you want so badly to keep hold of, especially after months of back and forth where you’re trying to figure out exactly where you stand with that person and if you even have a chance. It’s the wonderful feeling of finally getting what you wanted so badly and then being terrified that you’re going to lose it again. It’s Solomon’s state of being for this relationship.

Simeon: Daylight

I once believed love would be burning red But it's golden Like daylight, like daylight

I don’t know how to explain how I know it but I know that loving Simeon and being loved by him feels like stepping out into the first warm sunlight in spring after a long winter. It’s going from a passionate roller coaster of a relationship to comforting stability and steady love. It’s everything. Just let me love him please.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon

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saintqueer · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I’m the anon that came to you asking for advice on how to celebrate my queerness at my Harry concert without possibly outing myself to anyone who would see photos/videos of me after. I’m back with my report essay, teach!

First off, I need to say I really appreciate you taking the time to not only answer me and give so many options/so much advice, but you really made me feel like I was not alone. I’m in my mid-twenties and came into my sexuality fairly recently and my only queer friends have known and been out basically their whole lives, so I feel weirdly alone in my experiences sometimes. I’ll get the feeling that I’m abnormal and that feeling eats away at me until I have little to no joy to experience anymore, and I was very scared for that to happen at the concert. Logic never applies to this feeling, so even though I knew I wasn’t the only queer person there, I knew I wasn’t the only… “non-het fan” there, my demons were still in the back of my head threatening to steal my joy.

I’m glad to report that that was not the case and I had the time of my life. We ended up very rushed for time before the concert, so my planned rainbow underwear (it was too funny not to do) didn’t happen, but I did take a moment on our way to the venue to think over what H and his music means to me, how he and L (and the other boys) have helped me through so much and continue to do so. I have a rainbow TPWK keychain that I had hooked to my pocket wallet (and hand sanitizer, duh) and I used that like a worry stone while in line. I just tried to prepare myself for the spiritual experience I knew the concert would be.

And man… did I experience something. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so hard in my life? I danced so hard my legs were trembling all night, I sang/screamed so loud I had no voice left, I cried so much, and I went so extra gay and lost my mind for every little gay thing that there was no question of my identity. There was something about just being in the same room with H that made me feel so loved and welcomed and free. I don’t know how he does it, but it felt like a welcome home hug. It’s a little funny, like why was I so nervous in the first place? (I’m not going to lie, there were points that I wasn’t entirely comfortable and definitely retreated into my shell a bit (mostly before the show, seeing some absurd signs that were confiscated and feeling as though I was the only one who saw Harry as a fellow Not Straight™️) but they were nothing compared to the pure joy that I felt once Harry got on stage.)

Just a little extra because so much happened (and I think I may have blacked out a little bit but)… my cousin is and always has been very accepting of me, but sometimes that devil comes back and tells me it’s just an act, she really despises me, all that nonsense. And that voice was nagging me, telling me to tone down my gayness, she was embarrassed by me. And then Lights Up started. And H asked for the pride flag and he began to run. And she grabbed my hand and squeezed so tight and the love I felt in that moment (from H, from my cousin, from the screaming crowd) was so overwhelming that I began to cry some of the happiest tears in my life. The relief of seeing H in person with the flag that means so much to so many of us, to me, to him, and feeling the obvious support of my loved one was just so much. And of all times to be reminded of that love, H’s concert where he speaks of supporting each other, of having each other’s backs just a little bit more.. it felt very powerful.

Anyway. Rambling aside, I want to thank you for the advice and open arms. You are a wonderful example as to how fandom isn’t just about being a fan, it’s also about being a community. Sending you the biggest hug, all of the love and joy. Thank you. <3

(Also the fact that he decided to sing TBSL the next night and not when I was there felt like a hate crime but that’s beside the point).

MY FRIEND!!!!!! I was just thinking about you yesterday!!!! Now you are here and when i tell you this message made me cry, it REALLY made me cry. But it was happy tears so many happy tears i haven't had in a while.

It means the world to know every little tidbit you shared. It sounds like the best time. I'm like hugging your cousin in my head for gripping your hand during that. I'm so happy you went crazy and wild and danced. Harry would be so fucking thrilled to know that you felt embraced and loved and accepted by him. That's everything he says he wants his shows to be. I'm so comforted to know that still exists in tour!

You are so so so brave and strong for embracing your queerness whether you are out or not. Makes no difference in your bravery! I wish i could send this message to harr, god i just know he would love it.

I can't thank you enough for coming back to share! This made my whole day. AND GOD, that last line you wrote about fandom is not just about being a fan but about being a community!!!!! PLASTER THAT ON THE WALLS OF TUMBLR PLEASE!!!!

Im sorry my chicago night stole tbsl from you 😩 someone needs to scold harry...i will do so on your behalf!

You are an a little queer angel, anon, and gosh i'm so proud of you!!!!!

#my heart is BURSTING #i legit cried so much reading this #bless this fandom and bless harry styles #momrry looks after all of us!!!#to keep #keep forever #prayers

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moonchildsaurora · 3 years

Text

Darling, Dance for Me?

✤ sniper!San x female exotic dancer!reader ✤ genre: Mafia AU // 30% fluff, 60% spice, 10% platonic flirting with Woo ✤ t/w: mentions of guns/shooting, mentions of alcohol, mature clubbing themes, highly suggestive in the second half (but not smut), rated M ✤ count: 2k+

a/n - this was suppose to be for Valentine’s Day but, oh well! Enjoy some spice with one pink haired Sannie, coz we all know even though he looks soft. . . .he’s just a devil in disguise. This is probs my most suggestive writing till date as well, it was fun and am looking forward to writing more spice in the future hehet 💙

✛ play these vibes: BOBBY - ‘DeViL’, Sunmi - ‘Black Pearl’, Kai - ‘Mmmh’ ✛

“Mother told me, never to dance with the devil, So I danced for him instead.”

Cherry rouge.

Not your usual go-to, but a special occasion calls for some special exceptions. And damn did you look like fine wine tonight. Giving your styled curls another spritz of hair spray, you took one last inspection in your vanity mirror.

Work was throwing a Valentine’s event and thus you found yourself having to dig through the back of your wardrobe to find a suitable outfit for tonight. Bold burgundy lace hugged tightly around your body replacing the mellower neutral tones you’d wear on any other night. Your roommate had even shoved a pair of thigh highs and heels on you to match the garter.

And cherry lips to bring the whole look together.

“You’ll thank me later! Hell everyone in the club would, for presenting god’s gift to them!”

You had laughed at her supportive enthusiasm, waving her away with embarrassment though you greatly appreciated the pre-shift hype.

When you headed for the kitchen, you could hear the TV in the lounge and glanced to see your roommate watching the evening news. She turned to call out for you but stopped mid-way upon realising you were already out of your room.

“Damn girl…you’ll sure be breaking hearts tonight with that fit!!” she yelled-gasped, brows waggling for a cheeky added effect.

“Well that’s no good. Dancers are supposed to be Cupids of the night, maybe they should’ve given me Aphrodite instead.”

A smile tugged on your lips as you saw your roommate falling back on the sofa snickering. Grabbing the bottle of Ten to One from what you both named ‘The Life Juice’ shelf, you started to fill your rose gold hip flask with the white rum. The debonair bartender at the club would usually be more than happy to concoct you a cup of much-needed poison to get you through the night. However, on such a busy event, you might not even have time to swing by the bar – so plan B was in order.

Also, whoever thought to invent garter pouches was a genius in your eyes. The amount of times you had snuck in a sip or two up on the podium without missing a beat or being noticed had to be one of your greatest feat till date.

Except maybe for the one who bought said pouch and flask for you. Seeing the shadow of their pleased smirk whenever you donned on something from them never failed to coax the goosebumps across your skin. Perhaps that garnet embellished choker would be the icing on the cake then. You made a mental note to put that on before you headed out.

“Hey honey…”

The tone of your roommate turned a little more serious.

“On the news just then, another one of those random sniper attacks happened along Soleil Street. Shit, that’s only two streets away from the club.”

The city has gotten used to such news every now and then. All leads of the serial sniper always went cold, not that they left behind any substantial traces for the authorities to begin with.

The law wasn’t the only ruling force in the area. Everyone knew that.

So long as one didn’t attract the wrong attention, they’d be free to go about their business.

“I’m dropping you off, are you ready to go?”

“Wait! It’s alright, I don’t want to trouble you.”

Your roommate gave you a look before swiping her car keys from the counter. “What would trouble me is not knowing whether you’ve made it to work and back safely. Now c’mon, the night is awaiting that cute booty of yours!”

“Yes mum.”

How lucky were you to have an angel for a roommate?

“Give me a heads up if you intend to bring anyone home tonight yeah? I’ll be sure to vacate the apartment before any sinning begins here.”

Or not.

A euphoric buzz filled every corner of the club tonight. Whether it was due to the special occasion or not, everyone was getting drunk off the atmosphere. The bar was a never-ending fountain of liquid luck and smoke veiled corners of the venue where patrons dealt cards and wits. A sea of bodies dominated the dancefloor, curling around one another in ecstasy as the thumping bass set the rhythm for them.

The centre podium was where the real magic unfurled.

Up on there, you felt powerful. Up on there, was your domain to rule.

Long have you enticed all those who returned back to ‘The Blue Butterfly’. So close, yet so far, for most could only have the visual satisfaction. Of watching you, along with your fellow dancers weave around golden poles and offer hands to those who sat in plush velvet chairs closest to the podium. Only to sashay away the last minute.

How bees are drawn to nectar and moths to light, the people keep coming back.

Tonight the club was decked out in a more sensual feel to fit the Valentine’s vibe. Long drapes of rose silk hung around the podium and you used those to accentuate the flow and movement of your body curves. The silks caressed the bare skin not hidden underneath your outfit and you pretended to take shy peeks around the fabrics at the audience. Sending a lucky wink or flying kiss their way.

In the middle of a mid-air twirl, you saw a familiar figure heading towards your side of the podium. You slowly lowered yourself back down to the floor, using your legs to wrap around the silks as leverage. Not missing the opportunity to be playful – you mimed shooting an arrow towards the club’s top croupier.

Wooyoung instantly clutched his heart with his hand that wasn’t occupied with holding one of Mingi’s own cocktail infusion. Letting out a hearty giggle, you slid over the podium floors to the edge where Wooyoung had propped himself up on.

“Don’t you look simply irresistible?” he crooned at you.

You could’ve said the exact same for him. All fitted to a tee in Givenchy with a classic choker that demanded attention for prominent collarbones.

“Now, how may I be of service to you tonight handsome?” you spoke over the music.

The youthful charmer leaned in towards you, shaking dark wavy strands out of his eyes. Eyeing his cotton candy pink drink, you ducked your head and took a few sips from the straw before Wooyoung drew it away. It tasted vaguely like pink lemonade with hints of vodka and vanilla.

“Ah ah, this isn’t for you poppet. Besides…” he tipped your chin back up with two fingers, “…wouldn’t want to waste your appetite before your main course tonight, would we?”

That made you perk right up.

“V.I.P Room Aurora has kindly requested for you. Drinks have already been sent up and the room’s been booked for the whole night.”

Not that booking was really needed since it was your room. It was just for formality.

Wooyoung helped you off the podium and smoothly guided you through the crowd, placing you in front of him so as to avoid being grabbed by uninvited hands from behind. You both stopped at the foot of the polished glass stairs that led up to the V.I.P guest rooms.

“Off you go now! Oh and try not to make too much of a mess for our cleaners, they really ought to get a pay rise from some of the things they’ve witnessed in those rooms.”

You would’ve kicked Wooyoung for his brazen tongue, but you did well to remind yourself that would be rather impudent on your part. Whilst you have a jovial bond with him, it still doesn’t erase his high-standing status within the inner circle. You knew better than to cross that line of respect.

“Won’t make any promises I can’t keep, Jung!”

You left him with a soft pat on his cheek and ascended towards your utopia that awaited.

Swinging the golden embossed doors open, sultry melodious tune of a saxophone greeted you. Like molten dark chocolate, it was rich and tantalizing. The crystalline blue hue of the room’s lighting was fitting for the slow jazzy blues.

A spacious circular sofa curved around a glass table in the centre, providing a perfect view of the bejewelled podium. The wide one-way windows were especially designed for privacy. You could spectate over almost the whole club below, something you quite enjoyed during your breaks. The countless types of people that you observed stepping into your world; from the timid newcomers to the seasoned hedonists and the stories they brought with them of their journey to ‘The Blue Butterfly’.

But there was no time for that tonight. Not when you see broad sculptured shoulders that your hands have meticulously memorised the planes of – right in front of you.

Still clad in his all-black incognito leather fit, you couldn’t help but stay by the door to appreciate his form. A huge bouquet of ivory and deep red roses sat on the glass table with an open box of what you suspected were chocolates inside. A loud pop of the champagne bottle went off. You bit your lips when you saw his toned arms flex as he gripped the bottle in one hand and tipped a stream of golden bubbles into two flute glasses in the other.

As the music picked up, you decided it was time to make your presence known. Walking with confident steps over the velveteen carpet you went to wrap your arms around his cinched waist. Resting your cheek on the cool leather vest of his back, you took his scent in.

Smoke and city musk lingered around.

You figured he must’ve come straight from his assignment. What better reason to use than to spoil him extra as post-work relaxation? His hand came up to wrap around yours and you felt the dancing of lips leaving petal kisses across your knuckles.

“You stink…” you mumbled lightly against his back.

San let out a low chuckle before setting the champagne bottle down and turning around to snake both arms around you. Calloused hands from the years of gripping guns instead of supple flesh imprinted their warm touch into your skin.

“Oh? Then I’m sure you won’t mind helping me freshen up, right Princess?”

“San!” you squealed when you felt him deliberately rub sweat against your neck before attacking it with more love bites.

“You taste like sweet temptation.”

You arched your neck out of habit when you felt his tongue swipe across it. Teeth bit down lightly around the garnet choker San bought for you for Christmas.

When you felt hands travelling down west towards your garter, you gave San a light shove backwards to the sofa.

“Not so fast, Choi.”

His predatory feline eyes took its time to rake down your body, committing every inch to memory. You made a show of bending over to grab the two champagne flutes off the table, the sharp intake of breath behind you made you preen with pride. You took your seat on your throne, not at all surprised to feel how much pent-up tension San had through the tight leather.

Clink. A toast made for the love of two.

“Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

“Thank you, San. You sure know how to spoil a lady don’t you?”

“Only the one who’s sniped right through my heart.”

Oh the irony.

You smiled when he pulled you close and claimed a proper kiss, whispering a, “You sap,” against his wind-chapped lips. Tasting the fruit acidity from the golden bubbles as you both exchanged kitten licks.

San’s rouge-stained lips chased after yours when you broke off from the kiss to place your champagne flute back down on the table. Hands anchoring your hips in place as you reached to pluck a couverture chocolate-covered strawberry from the box. Turning back round to San, your lips formed a small pout noticing that his freshly dyed hair was still hidden underneath his cap.

He let you discard it behind the sofa and you could’ve sworn he purred with satisfaction when you ran your hands through his cotton candy pink strands. Hands gave your bottom a firm squeeze and San begun to run his fingers along the hem of your lace. The husky vocals from the record player drifted back, interlacing with the saxophone.

That was your cue.

“Eyes on me.”

You held San’s gaze, fire reflecting fire. The strawberry gets slipped past the seams of his lips and all the while San chews intently, his eyes never wavered. He’s got his precious pearl all to himself, just the way he loves it. And you have the city’s most lethal hitman watching your back from dawn to dusk. San was the dangerous game you played, only to win the safest love.

“Darling, won’t you please dance for me?”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

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ptergwen · 4 years

Text

let’s just pretend

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: rom com references, drinking, and a little bit of angst

summary: you cope with your feelings for peter by getting drunk on halloween

a/n: ok i really really love this and i loved writing it too? it’s the first like original idea i’ve had in a while so maybe that’s why but yeah i hope y’all enjoy and that this puts you in a halloweenish mood :-)

there’s something about fall that makes you nostalgic. the same images pop into your head whenever you hear the word october. pumpkin patches, colorful leaves, and hot coffee. it reminds you of being a kid. only when you were a kid, all you could think about this time of year was what you were going to be for halloween.

you’d spend weeks getting your costume together and coordinating with all your friends. trick or treating was literally the only thing that mattered. if you wanted to get good candy, you had to have a good costume.

the high school version of candy is alcohol. everyone just goes to parties so they can drink the whole night. no one even dresses up usually. you personally would rather have chocolate than cheap beer. your whole friend group agrees on that.

that’s why you decided to throw your own party this year. anyone who misses the old halloween can come hang out. so far it’s only peter, mj, ned, betty, and the rest of the decathlon team coming. betty invited everyone for you. she also asked liz, but she’s going to flash’s party. he only gets so many people because his parents are never home and don’t care if he raids the liquor cabinet. whatever.

you’re out finding something to wear with peter and mj a few hours before it starts. ned and betty already picked their costumes. she’s going as an angel, and he’s going as the devil. you think they should switch. they’re out shopping for snacks while the three of you hit up spirit halloween.

mj groans every single second there’s silence, and peter keeps getting scared by the motion sensor decorations. he eventually ends up having to go somewhere in the store that doesn’t have any. so, it’s a lot.

“why don’t you be a vampire?” mj asks in her fake interested voice, taking a pair of fangs off the rack in front of her. you scoff. “i think i did that in sixth grade.” she puts them back with a huff. “witch?” she’s just suggesting every costume she sees so you can get out of here. her lack of enthusiasm makes you want to take longer.

“no.”

“zookeeper?”

“eh.”

“what about cat in the hat?”

“mj, what? no.”

“uh... school girl?”

“ok, that’s just offensive.”

“you’re right. why do they have that?” she eyes the costume suspiciously. you cover it up with a random cloak that fell onto the floor. you’re never going to find anything at this point. maybe it’s a sign you’re too old for this. just when you’re about to lose all hope, peter comes over.

he’s holding up the plaid yellow skirt and blazer cher wears in clueless. it’s one of the most iconic rom com outfits. you grab it with a gasp, peter giving you a knowing smile. “oh my god! wait, where did you find this?” “they have a section with movie stuff.” there’s a han solo costume in his other hand.

you throw an arm around his neck for a quick hug. peter squeezes you and chuckles when he pulls away. it gets a sigh out of mj.

“sure you don’t wanna be the guy she ends up with?” she elbows peter’s arm. the two of you share a disgusted look. “josh? ew, he’s her ex stepbrother,” you dismiss her. “they’re, like, related,” peter adds. mj rolls her eyes almost to the back of her head and starts to walk away. “someone needs to unplug both of your tv’s.” you and peter follow after her.

of course she would suggest a couple’s costume. she was probably trying to make you both get weird. you’re always being teased for spending so much time together. even your parents and may make little comments about it. you can’t help the fact that you have almost everything in common.

peter is the only person your age who doesn’t try so hard to be cool. when you’re with him, you can be the biggest nerd and wear fluffy pajamas and play with legos. it’s a judgement free friendship.

you’ll admit you’ve wanted it to become a judgement free relationship. there’s no way he doesn’t feel your heart beating against him when you cuddle during movie nights. he has to notice your goofy smile whenever he calls you a nickname.

but, it could all be platonic in peter’s mind. maybe he sees you as more of a sister. that would make josh the perfect costume to go with you as cher.

you shutter and try to push the idea out of your mind for the rest of your time at spirit halloween.

it’s almost time for the party to start when you get back to your house. your parents let betty and ned in to start setting up on their way out. they’re going for dinner so they aren’t around to embarrass you. you have until midnight, then there’s nothing you can do. that gives you four hours.

mj is changing into the coraline costume you made her get, which she actually doesn’t hate. betty is helping you do some last minute decorating. peter and ned are putting out snacks. it’s a really good system you have.

“love the the plaid, y/n. you look so fetch!” betty compliments in between throwing fake cobwebs over your couch. you snort and finish stringing up some lights. “wrong movie, but thanks.” “oh. oops,” she shrugs and gets back to cobwebbing. “peter found it for me.” all the lights are up, so you go to plug them in. betty giggles on your way over.

your living room has an orange glow to it now. dusting your hands off, you admire your work. the moment of admiration ends when you notice how betty is looking at you. “what?” “peter found it for you,” she repeats suggestively. “when he was getting his costume, yeah,” you say like it’s nothing because it is nothing.

“so, what i’m hearing is he wanted to see you in a skirt.” you furrow your eyebrows at her. “what? no, he just-“ she wiggles her own eyebrows at you. you’re going to start sweating if you talk about this any longer. too aware of yourself now, you pull down your skirt and trudge over to the stairs. “i’m gonna go check on mj.”

you’re in the middle of convincing her she looks great and to leave your room when everyone calls your name downstairs.

“what?” you shout back from behind the closed door. “you should get down here.” it’s only peter this time. mj widens her eyes at you, but you’re gone before she can say she isn’t wearing this again.

you make your way down the stairs. the three of them are huddled in front of the door. “is someone here?” you mouth, ned looking off to the side awkwardly. they all move out of the way so you can see who it is. it’s flash. you’re obviously surprised to see him at your house, especially since he’s supposed to be having his own party right now.

“um, what are you doing here?” you try not to sound mean. “didn’t you invite the whole decathlon team? i’m on it.” you’d forgotten about that. peter says he’s only an alternate. flash side steps past you to get inside. you didn’t say he could come in. he heads straight to the chip bowl on your living room coffee table. you’re left shaking your head in pure confusion.

“dude, kick him out,” ned whispers to you. you wave your hand dismissively and walk over. he’s kicking his legs up on the table when you get there. “dope outfit. you look good.” he winks and crunches on a tostito. peter is clenching his jaw, but no one sees. “why are you in my house, flash?” you push the bowl away from him. “oh, yeah. my parents came home from vegas early.”

mj finally gets downstairs, squinting at whatever is going on with you while she walks over to everyone else. “i thought we could combine parties.” flash eyes your friends in a way you don’t like. “all your guests are pretty much here, so don’t worry about space.”

you look back at peter to see what he thinks. he shakes his head no. betty is nodding her head so fast you’re pretty sure she’s going to get whiplash. ned agrees with whatever she thinks, and mj doesn’t care. majority rules. plus, you could use one of flash’s playlists to liven things up. how bad could it really be?

“text everyone my address.”

people are flooding your house in the next fifteen minutes. like, your entire grade might be here. flash hooks his phone up to your speakers and blasts his songs. people grab fistfuls of candy and dance around. you’re running low on soda, but one guy brought extra drinks. alcoholic drinks, which you’re uneasy about. that was a big reason why you wanted to have your own party in the first place.

you don’t want to be a lame host, so you let it slide. a girl is sitting on top of your kitchen counter making out with someone. people are yelling so loud you can’t make out a single conversation. this is all going on and yet somehow, the most surprising thing is that they came in costume. some are more casual, like cat ears and lifeguard hoodies. it still counts.

feeling a little bit lost in your own house, you search for peter. he’s sitting on the top stair just watching what’s going on. you get his attention by throwing a mini packet of sour patch kids at him. he catches it, grinning when he realizes you did that. “i love these.” “good. they were the only ones left.” you take a seat next to him and scratch at the material of his vest for emphasis.

“i can’t believe you said yes to him.” peter opens the sour patch kids. the first one is yellow, so he offers it to you. sharing food with him always works because you each seem to like what the other doesn’t. “neither can i, but i think betty would’ve actually hurt me if i didn’t,” you joke while chewing. he rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “please. she’s too nice.”

you lean your head on peter’s shoulder and grab another gummy. he pokes your arm in protest. “this bag is small. get your own.” you’re nuzzling your cheek against him. “i told you they’re gone.” he’s about to put an arm around you when someone screams downstairs. you quickly sit up.

“i’m gonna go see what the hell that was. i’ll find you later?” peter does his best to hide his disappointment. “yeah, of course. good luck.” you clench your teeth and run down the stairs. this is somehow flash’s fault.

it’s been an hour and a half, and peter is nowhere to be seen. the chaos was just that someone really liked the song that was playing. it didn’t take you long to figure that out. when you went to tell peter, he was gone. you’ve looked everywhere for him since, except the backyard.

a pretty big group of people is out here either playing catch or talking. someone also brought a case of beer outside. you spot mj huddled up by the fence with a bottle. it doesn’t necessarily surprise you. it’s weird to see, either way.

“have you seen peter?” you walk up to her. she uses the bottle to gesture somewhere. he’s in the middle of a conversation with liz. your entire body feels like it’s collapsing into itself. it didn’t cross your mind she would be coming even when the party moved to your house.

she’s nice and all. you don’t have any issues with her. not that she knows about, at least. peter had the biggest crush on her for about a month, then it fizzled out. that’s what he told you. unless, he said that to save face.

you’re speechless. mj figured you would be. she gives you a sympathetic smile and holds out her beer. “yep. drink up.” your instincts tell you to take it, so you do. she heads back inside and leaves you alone with your thoughts. that’s not good for you. the only to way to get rid of them is by chugging the rest of this bottle.

you’ve never had your own drink before, and technically you aren’t now. this is still the most alcohol you’ll ever have in your system. before you can change your mind, you take a generous swig. it’s bitter. you don’t hate it as much as you expected to, though.

your eyes land on liz touching peter’s shoulder. that inspires your next big gulp of beer. you finish off the rest, and it hits you fast. you’re understanding why this is such a popular vice. you don’t feel anything but how tipsy you are. light and floaty. you decide to stumble back into the kitchen and find out what other drinks people brought.

the bright color of your costume catches peter’s attention. he was wondering where you were. excusing himself from liz, he follows you in. you bump into betty on your way to the punch bowl someone filled. she’s holding a red solo cup with the mystery liquid. both of you buzzed, you laugh and grab her arm.

“sorry. s- sorry.” you’re squeezing behind her, her angel wings brushing against your face in the process. you have to weave through everyone to make it to the drink table. peter meets you there when you’re getting a cup. he’s shocked.

“y/n?” smiling lazily, you take a sip. “hey, peter. pete.” the sober voice in your head tells you to stop talking. he probably shouldn’t know you’re drunk. then again, your cup gives it away. “y/n, have you been drinking?” he sounds concerned. everything is funny to you right now. you giggle out a “yes.”

peter doesn’t want to be that person, but you’re not acting right. he reaches for your drink. you pull it away too abruptly, and some of it spills onto the floor. “you... you’re so...“ you start losing your balance. “woah.” peter wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. he takes the drink out of your hand and sets it on the table.

frowning, he throws your arm around his shoulders so he can help you get upstairs. “come on, y/n/n.” you don’t argue this time. you’re at the part of being drunk where it doesn’t feel good anymore. peter holds you close to his side and walks you out of the kitchen. he stops to talk to ned for a second.

“hey, man. y/n’s parents are gonna be home soon. could you get everyone out?” he says into his ear. “why can’t she do it?” peter moves out of the way so he’s not blocking you. ned sees. you’re completely faded. “oh, shit. is she okay?” he whisper yells. “i’m gonna take care of her.” “i’ll tell everyone to go.” peter presses his lips into a tight smile, then he’s taking you up to your room.

you flop down onto your bed face first. peter shuts the door behind you. “you okay?” he chuckles, you nodding with your face smushed into the comforter. he’d think it was cute if you weren’t piss drunk. gently nudging you, he moves you so you’re on your back.

“let’s get you out of this.” “ooh, betty was right. you do like me in a skirt,” you giggle and bat your eyelashes at him. he huffs. “no, i mean you have to put on pajamas.” you’re pouting now. “you don’t like me in a skirt?” after going through your drawers, he comes back over with a big t-shirt and fuzzy pants. “i never said that.”

you grin again and grab them from him. “ha.” “do you need help changing?” he sits at the edge of your bed. you’re still laying down. he’s not sure you can handle getting up. “no. don’t be creepy,” you say completely serious. peter has to remind himself you’re drunk. “you were the one who thought i wanted you naked, but ok.”

making peter close his eyes, you peel the costume off your body. you got pretty sweaty. you kick everything onto the floor and start putting on your pajamas. your head gets stuck in an arm hole by accident, so peter has to fix that. the rest is fine. he’s about to bring you into the bathroom to brush your teeth, but you face plant into his lap. you’re out.

the next morning, you wake up feeling like ass. your breath is hot and tastes disgusting. your head is pounding. you could throw up. you’re not even sure how you ended up in your bed. then, you notice peter sitting at your desk. he must have helped you in.

a vague memory of him tucking you under the covers while you whined comes back to you, along with a few others. one of them is of him and liz. the whole reason you did this to yourself.

“hey.” your voice comes out hoarse. “hi.” peter nods and points to your night table. there’s a fresh glass of water. you drink it all down as fast as humanely possible, a hand on your heart. it doesn’t phase him after what you did last night. you set the empty glass down and pat the spot next to you. peter sits by your side.

he’s still dressed as han solo, but his vest and belt are sprawled out on the floor. the boots are under your desk. he actually stayed all night for you.

“i think i’m hungover.” you rest your head against his arm. his body relaxes. “you didn’t drink that much. mj said she gave you half a beer,” he almost laughs, you groaning. “that means i’m a lightweight.” “for now.” your arm wrapping around his, you look up at him.

“sorry you had to deal with me. am i in trouble?” “nah, your parents don’t know. we cleaned everything up before they got home.” he lightly pats the top of your head with two fingers. you squeeze your eyes shut when he does it. “you did? thank you so much, wow.” peter nods and smiles for a second.

he lays his back against the pillow on his side. “let’s just pretend that never happened.” “you’re good at pretending,” you mumble to yourself. you’re not as quiet as you think because peter hears it. “um, what?” you feel too woozy to come up with a cover. letting out a breath, you take your head and hands off of him.

“i saw you talking with liz.” “she wanted to know if i could lead decathlon practice next week. she’s not gonna be in school,” he says slowly, not getting it. “why?” having to spell it out is making you frustrated. “didn’t you say you don’t like her anymore?” “yeah, i don’t.”

“so, why was she being all... touchy?” the jealousy is clear in your voice. peter shrugs. “that’s how liz is. i still don’t get why it matters.” you ease yourself to sit up and turn to face him. those three words you’ve been meaning to tell him are on the absolute tip of your tongue. they’re about to come out.

then...

“i like you, y/n.”

peter says them for you.

you’re so surprised you nearly vomit for real. or, it could be the possible hangover. almost a minute has gone by when you realize you’ve been sitting there with your mouth hanging open. you swallow your spit. “you... you do?” “a lot. i kept trying to tell you, but there was never a good time.” his voice is softer now.

“i realized after homecoming. i wished i went with you instead of...” he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. you nod, a small smile spreading across your face. peter’s eyes are so hopeful. “i like you, too. a lot.” your gaze trails down to his lips.

“i’d kiss you if my breath didn’t stink.” “i’ll let you owe me one.” he’s fully grinning now, and both of you laugh. they’re the kind of laughs you do because you’re so happy you don’t know what to say.

peter presses his lips to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed. “get some more sleep. i’m gonna ask you out when you wake up,” he mumbles against your hair. you grab his hand that’s resting on the comforter. “can you stay with me?” “of course.”

he lays down next to you. you pull back the covers so he can get under them. your head is resting on his chest, an arm around his torso. both of his hug your waist. you’re instantly comfortable cuddled up in his embrace. you drift off to sleep with a smile.

this feels like such a dream. it’s the exact type of situation you’d make up in your head. but, it’s real. peter is still holding you when you wake up. he’s not going anywhere.

#tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker smut #tom holland x reader

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nelavili · 3 years

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I'm still processing Season 6 and as an unpopular opinion I'm not too happy about it as a whole. I feel horrible for not enjoying it as much as the Cast/Crew would like me to, but I just can’t change this feeling I have.

Just to clear my head I'll write the things down that irked me. I don't want to start any discussion, they're only my thoughts on stuff ‘n thangs. Huge spoilers ahead, please don’t read if you haven’t watched.

Michael

I admit it, I have probably more sympathy for the bad twin than I should. And after the whole S5 I thought we get a bit more closure with him. I didn’t expect a redemption arc, after Michael killed Remiel, Dan and Chloe it would have felt wrong. But after the “Everyone deserves a second chance” the dude is down in hell, scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush. Really, Lucifer? That’s cruel after such a righteous line.

When Luci realized he could help everyone, even if he hated them, I hoped for a dive into the twins’ relationship but it was like Michael didn’t even existed anymore. And if someone needed therapy it would be the twin with the huge inferior complex. That could have been so interesting. (I had hoped that he'd sat on the couch at the end, but noooo we get the Frenchman.. such a disappointment.)

Maybe Tom Ellis didn’t want to play 2 roles again, or there was no time, but I feel that was a huge opportunity wasted.

What even was the plan of Michael? To get God to retire and wreck havoc on earth to get Dad back, so Mickey can take over as the new God? And then what? Wipe out humanity? I see no endgame here.

Ella

I liked Ella’s Story so far. But she stole the personal file of Carol and even broke into his house.. and everybody is cool with this? Carol might be crushing on Ella pretty hard but if somebody tells you they broke into your house, because they feared you were hiding something bad, You run for the hills. But the dude isn’t even phased.

I’m glad Carol is a good guy, though. Even if he’s kind of bland.

Ella finding out the truth on her own came out of nowhere. I would have found it better if they would have her act a little suspicious over the whole S5. But since they wrote S6 while S5 was shot, a little to late for this.

The scene at the wedding was amazing. I had so much fun with her outburst there.

Dan

Ghost!Dan was my favorite by far in this season. And I really liked how he wanted to help and tried to find out what he still felt guilty about.

I am so glad he got to spend his afterlife with Charlotte and I laughed so hard with the pudding. Didn’t expect that, in a positive matter. :D

The scene with Trixie killed me. Bawled so hard as soon as Kevin got teary eyes. That really gripped at my heartstrings.

But how could he go to heaven while in a body of a killer when his daughter stands right next to that killer?

Comedy-wise Dan is top notch

Trixie

I missed her so much.

It felt like she was an afterthought with everything. She recently lost her Dad and Chloe spends most of the time with Lucifer. I really missed the scenes with her and Luci, they always were so adorable.

They explain it later that she’s at a science camp, but I honestly thought Chloe chooses Lucifer (and later Rory too) over her.

She wasn’t at Chloe’s deathbed but here I’m not sure if the scene with Rory isn’t placed somewhere at the threshold to heaven where only celestials are able to enter. But if she wasn’t there because Chloe sidelined her in favor of Rory, then I can understand her absence.

Linda

I love Linda, she always gives good advice but nobody’s ever took it.

Her book probably would fly under the fantasy tag if she ever published it. Still, it felt cringey.

It was so sad that she thought she was a bad therapist.

Apparently she wants to keep helping celestials because it’s better than helping humans. In the end, celestials have the same problems as humans just on a bigger scale. But okay.

Amenadiel

Amenacop was good, and a nice nod to Dan who put in the application.

It made him realize that he only can change things when he has more power. I’m white and no american so I don’t know if the BLM theme there was well enough executed. Got me wondering.

The apocalypse just being Angels who are incompetent was a letdown. Like this whole season.

I really like him as god. And I am glad he took the position in the end. Even if he could have decided this a bit earlier.

Rory

I like her sarcasm and her character.

Didn’t like the whole time travel, time loop and daughter spiel. I’m not a big fan of time travels or couples getting a kid just for the sake of a happy end or to add extra drama. I could have lived without a Deckerstar baby. Instead they could have focused on Trixie for a change.

The time she spent with Lucifer on the 4th August was precious though.

How in hell did the Frenchman capture her? How did he even know how she looked? IIRC Dan hasn’t seen Rory while in that body. Dan just went over to Trixie that’s why I thought he’d capture her and not Rory.

Lucifer

He found his calling to help the souls in hell only because Rory traveled back in time? No man, he already took the step with Jimmy Barnes in preparation to take over as god. I don’t think it’s far fetched to believe that he would have the same epiphany without Rory there.

But without Rory, he wouldn’t have been helping Ghost!Dan to go to heaven. Though, before Rory traveled back in time, Lucifer was already trying to help Dan. They probably would have needed more time to figure out about what Dan felt guilty about, but figure it out anyways.

How did he even got Chloe pregnant? Was it his subconscious deciding he was ready to be a father? Amenadiel had to believe that he was human to get Linda pregnant. Or maybe it’s because they always thought they couldn’t impregnate a human and self-actualized it that way. Anyways, it’s a tiny hang-up I have with it.

Somebody else besides me thought that the scene in the panic room was awkwardly long? I know they thought Lucifer would vanish somehow, but it seemed too much to me.

His singsong while the magician talked about the trick. :D

I don’t want to even get into the whole time loop thing because I think it’s ridiculous(ly bad).

It took a lot of time for him to realize that he didn’t want to be god, after he put it on hold for a second time. Even Chloe could have asked him if that is really what he wanted. Could have spared us an episode or so. Why is the communication on this show so bad? Q.Q

I loved that he helped Maze with Eve to get the wedding back on after their fight.

He didn’t say goodbye to Trixie - again. What a nice step-devil..

It’s been Chloe, Rory and his family since he found out she’s his daughter. Not even mentioning the one kid who probably loved him before even Chloe fell for him.

For someone who is all about free will and led a rebellion against God for it, he was quick to accept that he has a “fate”. I thought he’d find another way, or at least try to. Nope, he just did what his child wanted. And they disguised it at his “choice”. Doesn’t look like a choice to me if your daughter begs you for it and you have to promise it. Just getting along with what your child wants.

Why does everyone need to shoot him? Just cut him until he bleeds. The Americans and their fixation on guns. Nice parallel to Chloe though.

Lucifer trying to fix the relationship to Rory with gifts was so cringey. I don’t know why but I couldn’t watch him sing/dance in that scene.

Both him and Amenadiel didn’t want to become like their Dad because of the reasons stated in S5, yet Lucifer exactly did. Another letdown.

Chloe

As soon as she knew Rory was her and Lucifer’s daughter it was all only about Lucifer and Rory. No thought of Trixie? I understand she was worried about being a bad mother to Rory, but come on, you’re being a bad mother to your first child right now.

She was ready to go to heaven with Lucifer. And Trixie does what exactly without her parents? Living with her Grandma because one of her parent died and the other one is abandoning her? It’s like the writers forgot about Trixie while forcing Rory on us.

The addiction to the necklace got old pretty fast.

And that whole fight against Lucifer felt unnecessary just to add more drama.

She gets mad at Lucifer for not telling her everything while not telling him that she went back to the LAPD. It’s Lucifer, he always has things on his plate. Double moral, pretty much.

She looked so gorgeous at the wedding, oh my god.

Most of the Deckerstar scenes were good. I got tired of the obvious naked cuddle times, surprisingly. Somehow it felt not like the ones in S5 and it bothered me.

I thought Chloe would finally get to know about everything Lucifer did for her, but I didn’t expect her to read it in Linda’s book. And that she only took away that he left her every time they had an emotional breakthrough.

They spend Lucifer’s last day at the beach and once again, no thought of Trixie. I’m sorry I repeat myself here so often. But this whole season wronged Trixie so much.

They face the baddie without any backup. At least get Amenadiel with you.

Other things

The use of music between scenes was too much for me. Got annoying at some point.

I appreciate that they wanted to show us snippets of past Deckerstar scenes but here too, I felt like it was too much.

Couldn’t really follow the timeline. Maybe it were the cuts.

What’s been the point of bringing Adam into the mix? Just to wrap up Maze and Eve’s story? For Linda having another celestial to therapy?

The animation in the Jimmy Barnes Hell loop was AMAZING. I laughed so hard.

I’m not saying that Deckerstar shouldn’t have sacrificed everything for the time loop to stay intact, I say that the whole daughter-time travel plot shouldn’t have had happened. They never even talked about having kids, and then ignore the whole existence of the one kid that’s already there.

I really need all the Michaella fanfics, please. My first ship that’s actually a raft, because they never officially have met. RIP lmao

The acting was great as usual, all my problems come from the writing and the plot.

In the end, I really feel frustrated, underwhelmed and disappointed by the whole season. I didn’t have high expectations other than the same writing quality like S5. My excitement for that Season died as soon as Rory told Lucifer that she’s his daughter, to be honest. I waited for a plot twist that never came. Then the whole time loop shit. I’d rather have waited one more year for S6 if the plot would have made more sense, since this felt like a first draft of a whole other show. And now I wished that S5 would have been the last season. If I could travel back in time, I’d rather not watch S6.

I can honestly live with the fact that Luci and Chloe are in hell, trying to help souls to get to heaven. (But hello, not the murderers perhaps? Or I want Michael sitting on that couch right now.) But the fact that both “chose” to sacrifice their time together with their family and friends just because it’s fate now and parents have to make sacrifices for their children; and anyways there’s an afterlife because (human) life is just a blip in our existence… nah thank you. I do not want it.

I’m probably not gonna rewatch S6 anytime soon.

#lucifer spoilers #lucifer s6 spoilers #lucifer netflix #deckerstar

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robert-de-niro-only-fans · 3 years

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Take Me Home Tonight

Robert De Niro x Reader

Set in the early 70s in L.A., hardly any plot, mostly smut 🤗

TW: verrrrry smutty, some vulgar words

Word Count: 3.8k

The atmosphere at The Roxy tonight is really buzzing; people are pouring in to see the newest band, and everyone knows that bands have to roll through the clubs in Los Angeles before they'll make it big in the United States.

You had become good friends with some people that worked there, and the owners certainly didn't mind the extra help, especially since it was free. Though, you do get something out of it when you meet all the bands and celebrities and executives that come through here.

You helped greet people as they came in and passed out flyers for upcoming concerts. Sometimes you would help put up posters or get the bands set up on stage before events.

"(Y/N)! Get in here!" Your friend calls from across the room that an audience is beginning to pack into. You leave your stack of flyers on a table for people to take, and join your friends in the dressing rooms. "Hey! I know you like to meet the band, and they have a little bit of time," your friend says. He befriended you a few months ago, and you think he really has a crush on you. You don't have feelings for him, but you are nice to him because he gets you backstage all the time.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you through door of the dressing room. There are of course lots of girls hanging out back there trying to get with some famous guy, not that you were any different. The guys in the band are all sat around with their big hair and lots of eyeliner, surrounded bottles of alcohol, drugs, and girls. Some staff is hanging out back there, making sure things stay tame. There are also some people back there because they're kind of popular; a lot of up-and-coming artists, actors, and models networking with one another.

Your friend takes you around the room introducing you to anyone who will stop long enough to talk to you. Just a few people away, you see a very cute guy who you're hoping you'll be able to introduce yourself to. When the models you're talking to kind of start taking to each other, you take the chance to slip away and find your way over to that cutie.

Just as you're about to speak to him, you feel your friend's hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself cringing a bit on the inside, because you had really hoped to talk to the hot guy alone.

"Oh, (Y/N)!! This is Robert! Robert De Niro! He's an actor from New York!" your friend more or less shouts.

The guy, who is apparently named Robert, turns to face you, giving you a bright smile with a hint of smugness, "Hey, (Y/N), right? It's nice to meet you."

He holds out his hand for you to shake; you put your hand in his, which he gently squeezes.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, too," is all you can really get out as the man in front of you gently pulls your hand towards him and places a kiss on your knuckles. His eyes stay locked with yours the whole time. After a short pause, you pipe up, "So you're an actor? Theatre or film?"

"Eh, a little bit of both, but more films recently."

"Oooh, any movies I would've seen on the big screen?"

He lets out a little chuckle, clearly not a fan of bragging on himself, "Um, maybe. I was in Mean Streets a couple years ago."

"Oh yeah! I saw that. Were you the main character?"

"No, that was my friend, Harvey; I played his best friend, the guy who blows up the mailbox at the beginning."

"No way! No way that's you! You look totally different now. Your haircut is a lot better now!" You both have a laugh as Robert steps closer to you and slips arm arm around your waist. Your friend had been called over somewhere else.

"Say, that guy that was with you, he's not your boyfriend, is he?" Robert asks, a bit more confident than he had been here.

"Oh, no!! We're just friends, and he gets me into shows here," you rub your hand up and down a spot on Robert's side right above his hip before letting your hand drop back down next to you.

"Mmm, so he's not gonna be jealous if I hold onto you for the night?" Everyone in the room starts to shuffle out; the band is about to go on. However, Robert holds you firmly to your spot with his arm that was still on your waist. He even presses his fingers into you when you make a move like you're about to go with everyone else.

"Well, he does have a crush on me, but he knows I don't like him back-"

"(Y/N)! You guys coming? Show starts in 5!" Speak of the Devil. Your friend calls to you, urging you to leave the dressing room and go with him.

"I'll be out soon! I'm just gonna talk to Robert a few more minutes," you say, just to get your friend off your back.

"Alright," he yells out before leaving the room and shutting the door. You and Robert are alone now, and Robert immediately takes advantage of this bybeing much more handsy than he had been before. He pulls you into him and puts a hand on the side of your face, his fingertips tangled up in your hair a bit.

"Woah! What's the rush?" you ask, putring your hands on his chest in an effort to slow him down.

"You said you were only gonna stay a few more minutes," Robert leans in and begins to whisper in your ear, "I just wanna make the most of it, and I certainly wouldn't want to make a liar out of you."

You don't say anything; in fact, you're trying really hard not to lose your cool, because that was kind of hot. You move your hands away from his chest, one landing in his side and the other on the side of his neck, mirroring his hand.

As you lean in and let your chest rest against his, he takes that as a sign and pulls you towards him with the hand tangled in your hair and begins kissing you, gently for just a second but then much more passionately.

You don't know what else to do besides surrender your mouth to him. By now the band was playing very loudly from the main stage, and you felt secluded in your own little world with Robert. He pulls away from the kiss, and gently graces his fingertips over your neck, perhaps testing the waters for if you might be into that kind of thing.

You decide to make a move on him, showing him that you can take charge as well. Your lips latch on to his neck letting your tongue and lips work on him. He leans his head back, letting out a low moan and giving you more access to the skin there. He lets out a small gasp when your teeth nip at him. You can only imagine him blushing over letting out that little gasp, how cute that would look on him.

He puts his hand on the back of your head, urging you to keep going, pressing your face into him. You work your way up to the shell of his ear, and when he lets out a needy moan, you kiss him gently on the earlobe and let out a giggle.

"What's so funny?" he breathes out.

You pull away to get a good look at him. "Nothing," you say, observing the pink flush on his cheeks and neck and the lust blown look in his eyes, "you're just cute. That's all." You step back from him and turn to walk away.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He says, shifting awkwardly.

"Aren't you here for a concert? And I thought you said you didn't wanna make a liar out of me... It's been more than a few minutes." You turn back to him, but at a distance now. You're able to really take in his figure, not to mention the bulge that had formed at the front of his pants.

Robert rushes over to go with you, slipping his hand into yours as you lead the way out into the concert crowd.

The concert is wild; the band really has the crowd raring to party. Robert never strays far from you, keeping his hand in yours or his arms around you while you dance for him. The place is packed, so it gives you a reason to stay extra close to him. You make a point of rubbing up against him often, and he responds by squeezing your hips or nuzzling into your neck leaving quick little kisses.

The evening turns into a bit of a teasing game, as you dance against Robert, and he showers you in affection.

• • •

After the concert, you head back into the dressing room like you normally would, but this time with Robert in tow. He whispers in your ear, "Why don't we just head out of this place, baby? You know I can't wait to get you alone."

"This is what I normally do after the shows, I don't want my friends to think I've ditched them for a guy," you giggle, "and besides, it would be rude to leave without congratulating the band."

"Mmmm..." he whines, "I guess I'm not the one with a reputation to uphold here in LA." You both chuckle as you head back into the dressing rooms.

As an unspoken compromise to Robert, you make it quick saying goodnight to the band. In a matter of a few minutes, you're out on the street hailing a taxi.

"Where ya headed?" the taxi driver asks as Robert pulls you into the backseat. He gives the name of his hotel; you hadn't really discussed where you were going, just that you needed to go somewhere.

The taxi starts rolling, and immediately, Robert's lips are on yours. He wastes no time getting to business, as he grabs your legs and pulls you over to straddle his lap. You felt a little embarrassed about the taxi driver watching, but you kept going anyway. You run your hand over Robert's chest and through his hair as you makeout fiercely. The man beneath you wraps his arms around you, so he can press your chest into his.

The way his tongue explored your mouth... You had never experienced anything like it. He was very good at what he was doing. You let out a moan against his mouth, and you feel his hips move underneath you. He gets a grip on your hair with one hand and puts the other one your hip, pushing you down as he bucks his hips up into you. You let out a loud gasp as you feel his hardness against you.

You cradle your head in the crook of his neck trying to catch your breath as you rub his chest with your hands. "Robert?" It's almost a whisper because you're so close to his ear.

"Hmm?" he questions, clearly worked up.

"Maybe we should slow down a bit, I'd hate for this to reach an end before we even get out the taxi."

"Yeah... You're right," he says through a breathy chuckle. He rubs your head lightly, enjoying you cuddling into him. There's a bit of a lull in conversation and in action. "You know, I think you're really beautiful. I should've told you that earlier."

For the first time that night, you see Robert's sweet, vulnerable side. You can tell that he likes hooking up with girls, but that he likes to hook up with girls that he actually likes, not just anyone random. He cups your cheek in his hand, once again, and strokes his thumb over your chin and lightly presses on your bottom lip. You lightly take the tip of his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it. Robert makes a small noise and pulls his thumb from your mouth, then he gently brings you in for a kiss, much slower and more sensual this time. Between kisses, you stare into each other's eyes with nervous smiles; somehow this seems more intimate than what you had been doing before.

Amidst your comfortable silence, the taxi stops at Robert's hotel. Naturally, he invites you up to his room. He quickly pays the driver and takes you by the hand into the hotel.

Upon reaching his room, he opens the door for you, but before you can go too far, he grabs you by the arm and pins you against the wall with his body. His hand finds your cheek again, and he kisses you gently. As your kissing intensifies, his hand slides down to your neck, giving a gentle squeeze. When you let out a little whimper, he can't help but be a little proud of himself. He likes the idea of you making noises because of him.

His lips move down and find your neck, returning the favor from earlier. When you start letting out little gasps and moans, Robert continues his onslaught by leaving little love bites and sucking on the skin there. You put your fingers in his hair, tugging on it whenever you ball your hand into a first. You seem to both be hitting all the right buttons on the other person.

By this point, the man in front of you is majorly turned on again, and he lets you know this but pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is for you. You can tell he is desperate for a little attention, so you slide a have around to the front of his pants, applying some extra pressure where it was needed. He rests his head on your shoulder and groans somewhat loudly, as he rocks his hips into your open palm.

"(Y/N)..." he nearly whines for you, "I want you. I want you so bad." He places some kisses over the small bruises forming on your neck.

You get right next to his ear to whisper, "Then take me..."

With that, he wraps your legs around his waist and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down and within a second is on top of you, kissing you again and again.

You begin unbottuning his shirt, and he quickly pulls it off and throws it on the floor. Your hands travel down to his pants and unlatch his belt, while he starts giving attention to your shoulders and collarbone. As you get his zipper down, he says, "Thank you, honey, those were starting to get uncomfortable," after a short pause for more kissing, he asks, "You look very cute in this dress, but would you mind if I took it off?"

"No, I wouldn't mind, sweet boy," you answer as Robert lays his head on your chest, looking up at you with those pretty eyes.

He stands up beside the bed, and you certainly don't mind the view of him shirtless with his pants undone and his hard length outlined in his underwear.

You turn over and lay on your tummy, giving Robert access to the zipper on the back of your dress. As he unzips it, he leaves a trail of kisses down your back. You get on your hands and knees to let the dress slide off your arms, as Robert slides it over your hips and butt. He kneads one of your cheeks for a moment before you turn over and he slides your dress down your legs and drops it on the floor.

"Mmm, you've got a cute butt," he says. You lean up and pull his pants off, before he crawls back onto the bed. He lies next to you running a hand over your thighs, testing the waters before going further. When he leans in to kiss you, you feel his hand gently start to rub circles on your clit over your panties. You reach over and palm him roughly through his underwear as you continue to make out.

Robert moves your panties to the side and slides a finger into you, which earns a loud moan from you. You start to lose your composure as he curls that finger, hitting a sensitive spot inside you. He continues to massage your clit with his thumb, as he adds fingers to stretch you properly.

"You have such a lovely blush, especially when you're this turned on," he whispers to you. As you start to writhe around, your body practically begging for him, he decides he can't wait any longer. He removes his fingers and gets on top of you, hands working at the back of your bra while he kisses you. Once the article of clothing is gone, he cups at your breasts, squeezing lightly and teasing your nipples. He places a few nips and sucks across your exposed chest before moving down and grabbing at your panties. He gets on his knees at the foot of the bed and slides then down your legs before tossing the cloth aside.

He stays there, looking down at you, while he rubs a hand on one of your legs. "You're so beautiful," he says so quietly.

"You're just saying that because I have my clothes off," you giggle while sitting up in front of him.

"No! I told you earlier in the car you were beautiful! You're just... pretty, gorgeous, sexy, all of it."

You blush a little at the sweet man, before telling him, "Stand up."

He does as he's told by backing off the bed and standing on the floor. You sit on the edge of the bed in front of him, and tease at the hem of his boxer briefs with your fingertips. You look up at him and slowly pull the fabric down off of his hips. His hard length finally freed, you gently take it in your hands and start stroking him up and down. He immediately relaxes into your touch, moaning lightly at the feeling of it.

You lean towards him and press your lips to the side of his cock, working your way up to the tip. Still stroking him between kisses, a ball of precum starts to form, so you spread it around the with your thumb, earning a loud moan from Robert as he bucks his hips. You start placing sloppy kisses on the head of his penis, before you open your mouth, taking a bit of his length. His hand quickly finds your hair, tugging at it as you please him with your tongue.

Suddenly, he tugs your hair, which pulls you off of his length. He looks at you with pleading eyes, and says, "I want you, (Y/N). Now."

"Oh, well yes sir!" You joke and crawl back in the bed. He lays down between your legs, his cock teasing at your entrance. Robert being the romantic that he is, just couldn't help but kiss you some more before doing anything else.

While he kisses you, he gently starts pushing into you, using a hand to guide it. His hips rock back and forth in tiny motions as he slowly works his way deeper inside you. You're both moaning furiously against each other's lips, finally feeling what you'd wanted all evening.

You hook your legs on his hips, and his actions become bigger as he gains better access to you. As he's making love to you, he never stops looking into your eyes, and he always has a hand cradling your head in some way, whether it's behind you head in your hair, stroking your cheek with his knuckles, or stroking your lips with his thumb.

Feeling him push in and out of you while he showers you in his affection really has you on cloud nine. He's an incredible lover, and he feels amazing.

As he shifts his legs slightly to find a different angle inside you, he hits that sweet spot that makes any girl go crazy. He picks up his pace hitting that spot over and over and snakes a hand down to play with your clit. In no time, you're a mess; you don't even think you could form a word if your life depended on it.

You start to become a bit noisy as Robert leads you towards your climax. He really enjoys the sound you're making: your moans and whines and even a little bit of yelling.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he says in a breathy voice, "you gonna cum for me?"

You simply furrow your eyebrows and nod excitedly. His fingers teasing the same spot relentlessly combined with the feeling of his hard length rubbing over that sensitive area inside you, it sends you over the edge. Your hips start bucking and a string of sounds comes out of your mouth as you reach your orgasm.

Robert starts to grunt and moan as you tighten around him. His hand move up to your hair, and he changes position a little bit to be closer to you. You could tell he was close.

He wraps a hand around the back of one of your thighs pushing it up towards you chest, getting a deeper position. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, as he fucks into you quickly. A few seconds later, he gasps and presses his lips to yours, moaning against them. He pumps into you in a few long slow strokes, reaching his climax.

He starts giving you soft, sweet little kisses, while he comes down from his high. He presses his forehead to yours and looks into your eyes for a moment before rolling off of you. Your legs are shaky as you ease them down onto the bed.

You look at the man next to you, who is lying there with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed, and you let out a small laugh.

He cracks an eye open and asks, "What's so funny?" with a smirk.

"Nothing," you say, cuddling in to his side, "it's just been a crazy night."

"Mmm... Yes it has," he answers, putting an arm around you, "god, you're so pretty."

"Pretty enough to make you come back to L.A. sometime?"

"Definitely," he whispers with a kiss to your forehead.

#robert de niro #robert de niro x reader #robert de niro imagine #fanfic #1970s #LA #los angeles #smut

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: daddy’s first day [coward series au] Pairing: F!Reader x Miya Atsumu Genre: fluff, parents au, slice of life au Synopsis: In which Miya Atsumu takes charge of taking care of the kids for a day Warnings: none!

notes; you don’t need to read coward tbh to read this chapter, its just miya atsumu navigating his life as a daddy hshsshs [side stories are updated every friday] read the series here! [ ss;; one, two, three, four ]

“...Remember that Youta is allergic to shrimps and Yuuto’s got sensitive skin, I have all the medication in case anything happens and Yuuto has his soap in the bathroom in a separate container, just make sure that the water isn’t too cold nor too hot and remind him to wear sunscreen every two hours.” You explain, placing the last of your valuables in your bag “...I’m also on speed dial and you also have the number of their pediatricians on your number 2 speed dial, I also have the food in the tupperware prepared the night before-”

“Y/N, sweetheart, please calm down. I’m not going to kill our kids when you’re gone for the next nine hours.” he frowns at how distrusting you were towards him. okay, he admitted that he may have hated the boys at first but that was before. They were your kids now, that was totally different! They weren’t some random brats on the street! You should have a little faith in him!

“Atsumu, you almost burned down the house while making scrambled eggs.” You expressed, a glint of amusement on your eyes, “Would you like me to call ‘samu-san or Daiki-san?”

He scoffed at the mention of those two men, after ‘samu found out that he was actually an Uncle of those kids, he suddenly had a one hundred sixty degree change of attitude. Of course, Atsumu was happy that you guys got along and the kids seemed to start warming up to him but it seemed like you trusted ‘samu more these days and that daiki too.

“Alright, just help them with their homework and heat up the food okay? I have everything prepared.” You leaned in to give him a quick peck on the temple before leaving. He watches you leave the house in a hurry for work with a frown on his lips.

Married life with you was easy, you were like a superwoman. A great mom, a great co-worker, even a greater wife. How come he couldn’t be as half as good as you? Like be a cool dad to your kids or something? He couldn’t even cook the damn eggs well and there you were, making some Michelin star cuisine while making your kids happy and content and your work life thriving.

“Oh,” Yuuto’s brow is scrunched together as he exits his shared room with his brother, see, that’s what he gets from the kids, awkwardness and insults (mostly insults,really), “You know ever since you came back, ‘kaasan’s always been busy and hasn’t been spending time with us.”

“Yeah.” Youta yawns, scratching his eyes as he exits the room, “You even make bad food, I think you should just keep playin’ volleyball or something.”

Atsumu feels a tick on his forehead, they were definitely his sons that’s for sure.

“I’m trying here.”

Yuuto stifles as chuckle at his father’s reply, wanting to comfort him, he told him a little fact that their ojisan told him recently, “Sure you are, you’re doing a lot better than okaasan, Daiki-ojisan said okaasan didn’t know how to hold us until we were three or four.” the eight year old grinned.

Atsumu grabs a tupperware from the fridge that’s labelled ‘breakfast’ and proceeds to heat it up on the microwave, “I’m sure that’s a lie. Your okaasan seems to do very well now, it’s hard to imagine her messing up.”

He watches them eat their egg rolls and bacon, time flies quick these days. The boys were already eight years old and were getting more and more into volleyball. Youta exclaimed he wanted to be a pro like him while Yuuto wanted to be like you (although he still played volleyball a lot because he had the competitive streak thanks to his father)

“Can we invite Tobio-ojisan on our birthday?” Yuuto asks while Atsumu rolls his eyes, he can’t believe that this kid still idolized that idiot. He beated him thrice already! (okay, Tobio had beated him five times including high school nationals but still)

“Oh also, Shoyou-ojisan then we can play against them!” Youta grins, mouth stuffed with egg rolls. Atsumu grimaces at him then grabs a napkin to wipe off the rice on the side of his lip, “How are you guys not impressed by me?” their father grumbles.

“You’re our otosan.” Yuuto deadpanned.

“Yeah, we see you everyday.” Youta added.

After helping the kids out in the bath (especially Yuuto since apparently he needed a temp check for the water), he had them do their projects and assignments (you had a long list on what they should accomplish today and one of them was a science planetary object)

The thing is though, he wasn’t very good at that.

He ended up having ‘samu on speaker to help the kids as they choked on their laughter because their otosan still thought that Pluto was a planet.

It also didn’t help when their math assignments came up, oh boy, Youta had a problem with one number and when he tried to explain to Atsumu that there was a new way to solve that and that their sensei had told them to solve it that way, he got pissed, “I don’t know that way! Why would they change math? MATH IS MATH!” He screeches at the notebook as if it had done something wrong to him.

Safe to say, Yuuto had a field day as he watched his otosan frustratingly solve the math problem whilst muttering something about how math was complicated and they didn’t need to change up the equations. Youta, on the other hand, had to calm him down and tell him they could just use the old way to solve the problem.

“...I want pizza.”

“Your mom left us dinner.”

“It says here on the note that you have to bake it in the oven.” Yuuto reads out loud, “ ‘Samu-ojisan says that you shouldn’t touch an oven though.”

Atsumu feels like he’s aging quick because of these two kids, how is it that they were such angels to you but little devils towards him? “...when they’re angels, they’re Y/N’s kids but when they become devils, they’re yours.” ‘Samu jokes.

Ah, he felt his forehead tick on that statement. He had some pretty redeeming qualities that he passed on to his kids like his looks and skills in volleyball!

“Otosan, I don’t think you should put the tupperware in the oven.”

“I know what I’m doing here.”

Clearly, he didn’t. He ended up melting the plastic tupperware and having to call for takeout right after. The three of them looked at the melted tupperware and the food spillage in the oven, “Okaasan really likes those tupperwares.” Youta points out.

“I’ll buy her ten new ones.” Atsumu grimaced at the food in the oven, he should clean that and get rid of all the evidence when you come home in an hour. In fact, he should just buy a new oven because he thinks the smell is permanent there, “Wanna watch a movie before you go to bed? I promise I’ll cover for you.”

“You just don’t want us to tell okaasan that you melted her tupperware.” Yuuto pointed out.

“Pffft…” Atsumu laughs, pretending to shake it off, “I would not.”

“Extra scoop of ice cream on Sunday.”

“Yeah!” Youta echoes.

Atsumu narrows his eyes, “Deal.”

They ended up sprawling on the couch after putting on their pajamas. The kids sip their milk next to him, after seeing Kageyama drinking loads of it, the boys decided that if a big boy like Kageyama Tobio could drink milk, they could to (Osamu crackles because they didn’t seem to listen to Atsumu lecturing them about the benefits of milk) Halfway through the movie, the kids fell asleep and the blonde feels his eyes shut soon after too.

You come in quietly as you notice the quiet chatter of the TV and the figures of your three boys on the couch, all snuggled together. Your heart immediately softens as soon as you see the domestic scene in front of you. Something you probably never could imagine before, your boys. You take a picture before waking your husband up with a light kiss on the jaw, “You look like you had a fun day.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

“I hate math assignments.” was all he could reply.

You silently chuckled as you picked up Youta, “I’ll put the kids to bed, mind running me a bath?”

“Can I join in?” Atsumu suddenly awakened as soon as he heard what you said, a smirk dancing on his lips, “Save water and all that?”

“Are you really going with me in the tub?” You narrowed your eyes, “Last time we did that together, we ended up having two kids.”

“What’s another two more?”

“Miya Atsumu.”

taglist [officially closed, if you guys want to be removed for the side stories, feel free to tell me hehe ilyasm and thank you once again, coward wouldn’t be possible without all you people + other readers]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ; @demursv1ogs ; @just-snog-already ; @angmarwitch ; @simpingonothers ; @woo-youngs ; @cowward ; @chaelysian ; @sempiternal-amour ; @jungshookmeup ; @jovialnoise ; @karlitabi-rrito ; @iwaizluv ; @sugarandsoft ; @tspice283 ; @ohshirabu ; @syzygymai ; @volleybloop ; @oikaw-ugh ; @pockytokyo ; @differentballooncollection ; @keniloveshaikyuu ; @turquoiselace ; @playboygeniusphilanthropist ; @keijislut ; @notyourbitchboy

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @allysasteaparty @mikaashi @brownie0food @ph10xy @Chocolaterumble [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons

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psychic-war-in-the-usa · 3 years

Text

The Horse Tamer’s Son, Entry Two: The First Thing I Remember Is Fire

Dean said that Dad would be home in a few days, and they were working the performance circuit over the summer. So Sam sat down, pulled out his music workbook, and started writing.

Most of what they did was Christian covers, although they could do some regular standards and Christian standards. Dean sang -- Sam didn’t want to admit it, but his brother had a gift that way, and when Dean really felt it, working that tambourine of his for all it was worth, you could almost forget the genuine shittiness of the performance. Most of the churches paid in food or clothes, with cash thrown in as an afterthought. Sometimes that worked out better than others.

Besides lyrics, Sam was on the instrument, or the approximation of an instrument, that Dad insisted on. Piano was a woman’s instrument, elegant and gentle, good practice for the hands. A support for the rest of them. Not to mention, Sam couldn’t sing, and had just enough rhythm to be slightly off the beat. Not completely, only missing by a quarter beat, an eighth beat, but it was just enough. And since it was impossible to lug a piano around, Dad had set Sam on keytar, and keyboard when it was available. Sometimes it seemed like kind of a cool instrument. Most of the time, however, it did not. Not next to Dad blasting away on his electric guitar, or Dean being cooed over for his talent.

Practices had been fraught, as had post-performance discussion. Dad put up with Dean’s slight dance steps, they brought in money, but Sam’s improvisations went too far. They didn’t sound normal, they freaked out the audience, they weren’t supposed to be there. To which Sam would explain, again, that he wasn’t trying to do it, the shifts came, and the keytar would creel and wail in its mechanical approximations. Devil-music, a few people in the audience had called it. Not like Dean, who sang like an angel even when his voice changed. He could roll up into the upper register, make the “wand’ring spirit” of “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need” sound as though that same spirit was shining through whatever grimy tent or creepy church they were singing in. If he wasn’t careful, Sam could forget for a moment that Dean was his brother.

Dad was shaky when he got back home. His hair was freshly cut, his face shaved, an uncertain clarity in his eyes that at least seemed to keep him distracted from his children. They had just shy of two weeks to finish prep for Pentecost, because they might not be able to compare with whoever got hired for Easter, but by Pentecost they could manage.

Sam was ready. There were going to be no accidents this time, no devil sounds. No risk of loss. He’d play what he needed to, steady as a record. Let Dad improvise, Dean intrigue. Sam was going to be a good woman and support her men.

Rod had given Sam his latest present a few weeks ago, just before the end of school. Hair was beginning to bloom across Sam’s body now, thin and silky but still there, his chest as broad and flat as he’d asked for and received. Somewhere, to someone, he was a prince. A good king, Rod said. A hot Ferrari, in fact.

Sam had seen it mentioned in his reading that lower demons and imps were not particularly bright, but now he could say he had proof. He asked what Rod would like, once Sam was king, and Rod said he would like ten million dollars and a fifty percent discount.

Pentecost came. Dean kept reading over the lyrics he needed, mouthing the words, while Dad looked extra scrubbed and sober. Sam checked over his lyric notes one more time as he and his family mounted the risers to the black wood stage. He’d gotten it rewritten, and printed out on the Xerox, with the poor ink in some of the later copies corrected afterwards. They’d been practicing since January on this, and Sam was still wondering if he should have started working on it earlier.

It was Pentecost in South Dakota, and outdoors, the sky was shiny and silver, looking over the bronze color of the ground, green and brown reflective and melded. Here, indoors and onstage, Sam was just one of a unit. The three of them were dressed in whatever red they had on hand, from basic bright red to a rusty truck color to Sam’s own maroon. As they tuned up, humming along with their dad’s pitch pipe, Sam wandered in his mind’s eye. He could see the reds of their clothes join, looking like a scabby wound with fresh blood in the center. The wound in Christ’s side…

Dean was already struggling to hold still, the thin sound of his tambourine still managing to grab onto the mike and cut into the preacher’s sermon. “Shut up.” Sam hissed, poking Dean in the side, making him swat towards his brother with the tambourine and making more noise than ever. “I’m not doing anything.” “You know what you’re doing.” “Guys.” their dad said as he leaned forwards between them, his voice pitched low but definitely commanding. “Settle down. We’re on stage, we can talk about this after.” Both boys subsided at that, with Sam managing a quick punch to Dean’s shin and receiving a kick in return.

“Samantha, can you take the tambourine until we’re on?” Dad asked, sighing. My name is Sam, Sam thought. I’m a boy. He managed to bite that response back before reaching behind him to grab the tambourine, holding on tight to the metallic cymbals to keep them from rattling as he sat it on top of his keyboard.

Sam looked back down at his paper, examining the lyrics in front of him. This was a big project, the family’s season was starting, and they needed a really good centerpiece for it. So, he’d decided on using NSync. It was serving God, Sam knew. Turning worldly songs back into what art needed to be. Well, that and sketching out where their instruments should go, in order to balance with the original music. Admittedly, there wasn’t much place for tambourines in most music, but he had managed to get Dean’s tambourine to lay down the background track, with Dad’s bass being close enough to synthesizer.

It was early in the service, of course, but their signal came up to begin, and Sam hurried to get the tambourine back into Dean’s hand. Sam’s family threw their hearts into it, as they had so many times before. His dad strummed headily on his electric guitar, the bass humming in Sam’s lower jaw. Dean showed off almost immediately, adding in all the flourishes that Sam was forbidden from as he happily shook the tambourine with wild enthusiasm.

It’s tearin’ up my heart I’m not with you But when I’m in the world, I feel it too And no matter what I do, I feel the pain Of this sinful world God I don't understand Just why you can’t come back yet Things are getting out of hand Tryin' too much but I know we can win, let it go If you want me, God, let me know I am down on my knees, I can't take it anymore

The preacher’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker, the words describing Pentecost crashing around them, the music and the words intertwining and supporting each other by turns. “A sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting! They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them! All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit!” Sam, still playing, could feel himself suddenly tense and shiver.

A long line of hovering fire reached out from the church entrance, extending until thin lines of white and orange and red heat surrounded the congregation, shaping itself in the twisting devouring shapes of raw energy.

Sam’s hands kept moving, his foot twitching down to the pedal. He must keep playing. He must. That was his job. He was good, he was good, and this was the tongues of fire of Pentecost. His family was still playing, but Sam didn’t dare look away from the fire. What would happen if he did? Well, Sam didn’t care to find out!

The song ended, and the clapping hands of the crowd looked like nothing so much as a vale of broken-winged birds. And yet, the fire stayed, seemingly untroubled by the ending of the music.What was going on? Nobody else was responding to it, and the fire didn’t look natural, it looked like something someone had created.

Why, even as Sam watched, wide-eyed, it looked like it was shaping itself into something different...no, it was flickering to form a full head, not human in the slightest, most like a horse or a snake, but sketched in such bright and ever-changing forms that it was hard to pin down exactly. It was so big, and like any fire, it was alive, and hungry. It moved, it grew, and Sam had no words in his terror.

“Let God’s fire come into you.” the fiery creature said. “God wants you, Sam, for something very special. Don’t you want that?”

Sam, staring upwards, managed a nod and not much else. What was it saying? Was the fire from God? Was it from the Devil? Were they performing in a dead church?

“I like you.” the fire said, wrapping its tendrils around him. Oddly, the sensation was not painful, simply noticeably warm, like a small animal against Sam’s body. “I like you very much, Sam.”

#My fic #black hematite #my fucking brother

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shannendoherty-fans · 3 years

Text

People, November 9, 1992

Nobody's Pussycat

By Tom Gliatto. Photos by Neal Preston.

Ever Outspoken, Shannen Doherty Defends Family Values, Her Turf on Beverly Hills, 90210—and Her Rowdy Reputation in Hollywood.

THERE ARE TWO ISSUES TO BE CLEARED UP HERE. Both of them are dear to the heart of Shannen Doherty, 21-year-old star of Fox's Beverly Hills, 90210, the Aaron Spelling high school hit that is now in its third season, one in which Doherty's character, Brenda Walsh—who might be described as Gidget with attitude—will break up with that lean-hipped rebel, Dylan (Luke Perry). First issue: Why has Doherty—alone among 90210 costars and teen idols Perry, Jason Priestley, Jennie Garth, Tori Spelling, Ian Ziering, Gabrielle Carteris and Brian Austin Green—come to be regarded as "difficult"? Like, is she, in contrast to the feisty but fairly civilized Brenda, one of those women who rhyme with rich? Is she, as the tabloids have gleefully reported, impossible on the set? Is she a prima donna? Also: After hours, does she party too much? And where was she being driven, in those recent tabloid photos, by rapper Marky Mark?

Second issue: What has become of the youngest of her dogs, a rottweiler named Jake? Doherty has arrived home, at her three-bedroom house in Beverly Hills, expecting to find golden retriever Sally gone (her dad was going to slop by to take her to the vet's), but now only black Lab Penelope is here to greet her. And why is there blood around the hack patio? Unnerved, Doherty phones her parents. No luck. She calls the vet. Gets the machine. Perhaps this is not the ideal moment for Doherty to sit down with a visitor and size up that delicate first issue. She chooses an armless chair in the living room and takes out a cigarette. She smiles, but it is not a happy smile, and her fingers shake as the match reaches the cigarette. "Yeah," she says, exhaling smoke with her sigh, "you've really caught me on a good day."

"People think I'm a bitch," she says with a shrug. "There was a group of four girls at Torrance High, when; we film the show, and they walked by and said, 'Oh, what a bitch!' You can walk away from that, but you really want to turn around and say, 'Why?' " She can give you a couple of whys, actually. "The tabloids make up stuff," she says. "Somebody will call [the tabs] up and say, They're yelling at each other on the [90210] set,' and they will turn around and make it 10 times worse," Doherty says. And maybe, she reasons, the tabloids pick on her. specifically, because "I'm a strong woman. There are still some people out there who can't deal with that."

Aaron Spelling, whose company produces 90210, describes her as "the best young actress I've seen in a long time," and has no problem with Doherty or her manner. "She is a very honest person who wears her emotions on her sleeve," he says. "If you ask her a direct question, she'll give you a direct answer." For instance, Doherty isn't afraid to tell friend, costar and daughter-of-the-boss Tori Spelling if she's wearing the wrong blouse. "Of all my friends, Shannen is the really honest one," says Tori, one of the few 90210ers who talked about her. Doherty's comments are "all meant in the best way," she adds. "But I can see [her reputation] hurts her feelings a bit." If so, Doherty is not about to expose her wounded heart in public. And why should she? Her image hasn't hurt her endorsement power (she does ads for Gitano jeans). "I'm not saying I don't have my moments of bitchiness," Doherty says, not defensively at all, "because everybody has them. But it's never for no reason. I think that life is short, you should live it and be happy. I've always been a ballsy kid," she adds. "I know it pisses some people off, but isn't the end result much better?"

In fact, Doherty, who won her first series role when she was 11 (she played Jenny Wilder on Little House: A New Beginning), thinks her "bitch" reputation started with 1989's cull black-comedy movie Heathers (in which she was one of the three nasty title teens). Doherty says she let a behind-the-cameras player on that film know, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't approve of an extramarital affair he was conducting with an extra. "It was the first time I actually saw somebody take advantage of the extras," she says. "He knew I disliked him, and he was the first person to call me a bitch." In the past year, though, she also earned the enmity of prince of sarcasm Dennis Miller when she appeared on his short-lived talk show and embarrassed him by teasing him for not being at ease. (Her photo, tacked up backstage, was subsequently defaced with a devil's horn and goatee.) And would Peter Duchow, who produced her recent TV movie Obsessed, like to work with Doherty again? "How much are you going to pay me?" he asks. He notes that she was late to the set several times ("Professionals," he says, "make an absolute effort to be on time") but then clarifies: "Like a lot of talented people, she has mood swings. Hers are perhaps a lot more exaggerated than others. And any 21-year-old is difficult to work with. She has to learn some lessons that everybody has to learn." Then there was the headline-grabbing flap at this year's Emmys show. The day before the ceremony, Doherty dropped out of presenting an award with John Stamos of Full House and 90210 costar Jennie Garth. "She was a colossal pain in the ass," says Walter Miller, who produced and directed the program. There have been numerous explanations of that pain. Initially a spokesperson said that she was suffering from bronchitis. Miller, who refers to Doherty as "a barracuda," thinks she was unhappy that Garth was given the opening line of Emmy dialogue—even though Doherty would have announced the winning name. But Doherty says she was upset that the entire 90210 cast was not given tickets to the ceremonies. "I just said, "This is ridiculous, our cast can't go,' " she explains. " 'I just don't understand that.' " Doherty's manager, Mike Gursey, says he yanked her from the telecast because "tiny" promises about her role, including what category she would present in, went unfulfilled.

Having offended the gods of Hollywood, though, the young "barracuda" arrived in tears al a luncheon the day of the Emmys, reports Aaron Spelling, "afraid even one would be mad at her." If so, it was a rare display of public insecurity from a young woman who, says her father, Tom, 48, "has always been self-assured." Shannen was born in Memphis, the younger of two children (her brother, Sean, 25, is a USC law student) and, on her mother Rosa's side, the latest in a long line of Southern Baptists. Shannen's conservative upbringing may have something to do with her public displeasure over 90210's Brenda's losing her virginity last year ("We have a whole cast that is sexually active," she complained in one interview); her disgust with that unnamed. womanizing Heathers crew member; and her August appearance at that feast of family values, the Republican National Convention, at which she led the Pledge of Allegiance. ("I don't think Clinton would be any different than Bush," says Doherty, a Jack Kemp supporter, "except maybe he'd do a hell of a lot worse.") Growing up in the male-dominated South, though, had its drawbacks. "I saw how women were treated," she says, "and I wasn't going to be treated like that." In fact, she seems to have a Scarlett O'Hara, I'll-never-go-hungry-again tenacity, developed after her family moved to the comfortable Palos Verdes neighborhood of Los Angeles when she was 6. Her father had bought a trucking firm, but within a few years the business collapsed. "Shannen has seen both sides of the coin," says her dad, now a mortgage consultant. "We lived in a prestigious area, with an ocean view. Then we had the rug pulled out from under us. There was a time when the doorbell would ring and it might be the utility man there to cut off the power." The experience seared Doherty. "People think, 'She's sitting up there in a nice house and has money,' " Shannen says of herself, suddenly irritated. "Somebody said that to me last night, and I got really pissed off. My parents went from having money to having nothing, to eating rice every single day."

As Tom Doherty's company was sinking, his daughter was getting into another business—acting. Initially, Shannen tagged along when Sean tried out for a church production. In short order, she went on to play Sneezy the dwarf in Snow White, also at church ("I hammed it up"), and by age 10 she was doing commercials for Pepsi. Her big break came in 1982, when she did a voice for the animated feature The Secret of NIMH. Then Michael Landon hired her for Little House. "That show changed my life," says Doherty. "Michael Landon was the one who said to me, 'Always slick up for yourself. Never let anybody walk all over you. Be a strong woman.' " The principal of the Baptist school she attended after her stint on Little House paid the price for Landon's advice. "I hated that school," says Doherty, her voice turning sharp again. "It was very repressed. They thought that dancing was evil, and I disagreed. I organized a big dance, and the principal called me in. He wasn't pleased. He had his Bible out there on his desk and told me how God would punish me. I flipped through his Bible and found references to people dancing and rejoicing. I said to him, 'It clearly shows they danced and rejoiced. Just what the f—is wrong with you?' " Her father had reservations about Shannen and show business, but he supported her in her fight at the school, which she left alter a year. She finished her studies at the Lycée Français, a private school in L.A. (by then, the family was back on its feet financially). "Shannen believed in something," says her dad, who didn't know beforehand about the prohibition on happy feet. "She did nothing wrong." The family was less approving when she left home at 18 and moved in with a 31-year-old boyfriend (who had told her he was 28). "I wanted so much to be on my own," she says now. "I wanted to prove I could do things myself". But the boy friend turned out to be involved with drugs. "And I tried drugs and drinking," says Doherty softly. "I was drinking up a storm. Cocaine was something that I tried and didn't really like. It was more the lifestyle I was into. Every single night I was out clubbing and drinking. It was a bad scene." This went on, she estimates, for six months and ended—with a shock—the night her boy-friend struck her. "I just remember one slap across the lace." she says, "and I was out of there." She went across the street to a convenience store, phoned her parents and went home. She has since bought and moved into her own place, but remains close lo her parents. She was there for her father in 1983 and again in 1990 when he suffered strokes (his right side is now slightly paralyzed). "She has done the single most important thing lo help my recovery," he says. "She makes me laugh." It was in 1986. while playing Kris Witherspoon on her second NBC series, Our House, that Doherty first caught the attention of an influential member of the viewing audience named Tori Spelling. Tori also liked Doherty in Heathers and recommended her to her father. Doherty got the 90210 job on a Wednesday, started work on a Monday, and now she's so famous she needs a dog to protect her when she goes jogging.

(The dogs! What about those dogs? Every time the phone rings, Doherty hops up and runs off to answer, only to return with a look of dejection—no news.) Doherty doesn't deny that she may have earned her reputation for being tough in the early days of 90210. "I always stood up for the right causes, but I don't think I was always diplomatic," she says. "But recently I have learned lo be diplomatic." That hasn't prevented the occasional on-set misunderstanding—like the time recently when the day's shoot ran past midnight and Doherty announced (with the producers' permission, she says) that it was time to go home. She suspects Jennie Garth may have resented that show of authority. "I don't think Jennie was very happy," she says. At any rate, she adds, their friendship has suffered—and the Emmy business didn't help. "There's some weird tension there," she says. "We haven't really talked about what happened. But Jennie is a great girl, and this is something that can be worked on." There are no complaints from Jason Priestley, who plays Doherty's brother, Brandon. "All of the stories about Shannen are so blown out of proportion," he says. "She's a very intelligent young woman who isn't afraid to speak her mind. I really enjoy working with her. We have a good relationship on-and offscreen."

For the past year, Doherty's primary offscreen relationship has been with Chris Foufas, 25, a Chicago-based real estate manager. They met through a friend of Foufas's (in fact, she was dating the friend at the time). They announced their engagement earlier this year, but now it has been called off. "He is a wonderful man whom I love very much," says Doherty, "but I'm 21, and it's not exactly the right time to gel married. Friendship has taken over the romance.' " Marriage hasn't been completely ruled out, she says. And "if he goes out with another girl, it's [only] because he's bored." Now as to the famous night on the town with Marky Mark. Doherty maintains that they were not on a date—it was just a friendly foursome that included 90210 costars Green and Spelling. Someday, Doherty may have her own rock-and-roll groupies to distract her. A big fan of U2, Guns N' Roses and Pearl Jam (she would love to meet lead singer Eddie Vedder), she enjoys toying with the idea of having her own band. The basic career plan, of course, is to land some movie roles alter 90210, but Doherty says, "I gel into these modes of sitting in my house writing poetry that could be converted into songs."

She pauses to light another cigarette and inhales, turning her head toward the sound of a car door slamming and the scuttle of approaching paws. Sally comes bounding in, and Tom Doherty enters carrying Jake, the dog's back paws wrapped in bandages. Shannen's father explains that when he arrived to take Sally to the vet, he found Jake in the pool. The pup had fallen in and was frantically clawing the pool trying to get out. "He looks so funny," Shannen says. "I'm so relieved!" She pats him on the head, and he regards her contentedly. You will never hear a bad word from Jake about Shannen Doherty.

*** 💜♀️International Women's Day♀️💜

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