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sslow-dancer · 3 years

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A/N: In celebration of the Stone Ocean Confirmation this past Sunday, have you a sweet Jolyne one-shot 🦋💚

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“I Feel Comfortable With You Too.” (Jolyne Cujoh x Reader)

Warnings: brief mentions of suicide and homicide, rape and self-blame

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jolyne cujoh x reader, slight angst, sfw, comfort

Description: You become cellmates with the new girl in Green Dolphin, Jolyne Cujoh. As one of you can’t fall asleep at night, you both decide to speak about your personal lives and further discuss your convictions.

(NOTE: Though prisons in the US are assigned to keep the sexes separated, this one-shot can easily be read by anyone who is not/does not identify as a woman.)

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“FE40332, you got a new roomie! Get along, alright?” one of the main guards says to you, he turns to murmur with the person next to him.

You’re quick to sit up when the guard opens your cell, both people now in full view. You meet eyes with a girl, a rather beautiful one around your age with green and black hair. You notice her choice of hairstyle, you smirk

“Nice hair.” you compliment. The girl shrugs off the guard as he closes the cell. She looks back at you, a spare change of clothes in her hands,

“Uh..thanks.” she replies shyly. She seemed nervous, though that didn’t bother you. You nod, getting up to shake her hand. She hesitates before shaking yours, you smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m no person to be scared of.”

“Yeah, I know. You give off the vibe that you’re nicer than the people I’ve already met...”

You laugh at this, telling her your name after. You ask for hers,

“Oh, right! I’m Jolyne. I’m usually one to say my name first but with the new setting.. I guess I forgot.”

“It’s alright, I totally get you. By the way,” you point at the top bunk “you don’t mind sleeping there, right? I’ve been bottom bunk for the last 2 years I’ve been here; I’m not one for top bunk, believe me, I’ve tried.”

She nods, placing her clothes on the top bunk. She takes off her shoes and climbs up to the top, sighing as she lays down. You furrow your eyebrows,

“You tired? Have you not had food or a drink yet?”

“Yeah no...I don’t really have an appetite at the moment. I just want to rest is all...”

“Understandable. I was the same when I arrived here..well, I’ll be reading for a bit. Let me know if you ever wanna talk, okay?”

Jolyne hums, closing her eyes. ‘They’re really sweet...’ Jolyne thinks, ‘They’re like a breath of fresh air...’

~ Time Skip ~

It’s past midnight now, 3:30AM to be exact. Though both you and Jolyne weren’t exactly aware due to no clock being in your presence. You sigh, as you go to fall asleep after reading a really interesting novel. Your attempt to fall asleep is then interrupted when you hear a quiet whisper from Jolyne,

“Hey uh.. you still awake?”

“Well I was about to sleep but yeah, I’m still awake. What, do you want to speak to me?”

Jolyne exhales sharply, nodding as she replies “yes...if you don’t mind though, you can sleep if you really want to.” You shake your head,

“Oh no no, it’s okay. I’ll listen, I like hearing others talk. You want me to come up there?”

“No it’s okay, I’ll meet you down there.” she quietly hops off her bunk, you sit up yawning as she places herself next to your bed. She sits on her knees, her hands fidgeting with your bedsheets. You turn your attention over to her attire. She only had a skirt and short top on. You blush as you tell her,

“You look really beautiful...”

It’s Jolyne’s turn to blush, she giggles softly, “I- thank you. Since it’s nighttime, I decided to change my outfit when you left to get a new book...”

“I see... so, what is it you wanted to talk about?” You ask curiously, she purses her lips sighing,

“Well ya know, nothing specific really. I just wanted to talk to you ‘cause you seem cool and have been really one of the only persons who hasn’t been an asshole to me.”

“Persons?” Is there more than one person in here that’s actually been nice to you besides me?”

“Yeah, a girl named Hermès. Though I haven’t seen her in a while sadly.. I’m guessing her cell is far from ours.”

You nod, grateful that she has met at least one other person that treats her with basic humane respect. You nudge at your mattress, enjoying the faint artificial lighting from outside your cell. Jolyne speaks up,

“If you don’t mind me asking...why are you in here anyway? Like I said earlier, you honestly don’t seem like someone who would be in a place like this.”

You shrug, “It’s alright. Though I will say, be careful about asking people what they’re in here for, some people can be huge asses about it. You’ll probably hear a guard in here say that it doesn’t really matter in a prison like this but trust me, you can never be too cautious.”

She nods, swallowing as she thinks she had made a mistake of asking. You frown,

“But don’t worry, you’d didn’t offend me. Since you trust me, I think I’m obligated to give that trust back. So, I’ll tell you.” You scoot closer to her, your faces inches away as you keep your voice lower than before,

“I killed a gang of men. A bunch of bastard rapists. I feel no guilt whatsoever. They hurt a close friend of mine-“ you hesitate, backing up from her whilst turning your gaze towards the wall, “-though in a way, I feel terrible because that friend of mine will never get closure...they committed suicide a bit after what happened to them. Not to mention, I threw away whole career opportunities and reputation just because my anger got the best of me... Oh and my parents? Though they say they’re not angry with me.. they’re definitely disappointed. It’s so obvious whenever they visit me, it’s clear guilt.”

Jolyne’s expression quickly saddens, her sympathy taking over as she offers to hold your hands, you frown as you accept it, holding hers tightly. Her eyes squint with sadness as she tells you,

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that...I couldn’t imagine.”

“Like I said, it’s alright. I accepted my fate the moment I committed the crime and accepted it again when I got my hearing in court.”

She nods, looking down at both of your hands as she takes in your information. She gently lets go, resting her back against the wall next to your bunk. She exhales loudly, stretching her arms as a way to shake off the melancholy in the room. You look at her with curiosity,

“So now that I’ve told you my story...mind telling me yours?”

“Sure...yeah.”

Jolyne clears her throat, her eyes and body facing the cell door. She begins her story,

“So, basically... I’ve been in trouble before. I was in a motorcycle gang and had got arrested for theft when I was in my early teens but for what I’m in now...I had a boyfriend. He was pretty much the stereotypical delinquent who relied on daddy’s money and got whatever he wanted.” she snickers, “you could say I was in love with him... aside from my mom I let him call me “Jojo” as I never liked anyone else calling me that but he uh.. betrayed me. That’s a way to put it, I guess.”

She looks at you for a bit, you nod as a way for her to go on,

“After my dumbass tried to sneak in a kiss when he was driving us home after school, he lost control of the car and hit a pedestrian. Obviously I panicked and panned him to call the police but he wouldn’t..instead of helping a helpless person on the ground he instead went on and on about his reputation and career...” she shakes her head, “he manipulated me into hiding the body. He has this all planned out, he was ready to put me in prison so he could go on and live his best life. He fucking- framed me! I was so stupid...”

You shake your head, saddened by the fact that Jolyne still blames herself,

“No, you’re not. Don’t blame yourself for that. HE’s the stupid one. HE was the dick that did the crime; instead of owning up to it, he made you look like the bad guy. You weren’t, you were just his girlfriend that witnessed the whole thing!”

“Try saying that to the police...they would never believe me.”

“You know, I really wish I could. Stating your side of the story again could really help getting you out of here. I would suggest you ask for a new lawyer. I can even help you if ya want.”

Jolyne shifts in her seat, clicking her tongue as she picked at her fingernails. She began to think about your suggestion and shrugs when she thinks of answer,

“Thanks but it’s fine. I plan to solve all this on my own soon.”

You nod understanding, you didn’t want to annoy her by asking again. You knew after sharing a story like that no one would want to be bugged.

“Okay I’m not gonna ask again but if you do change your mind, just let me know and I’ll be happy to help.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

You smile a small smile at her, she does the same. You look over and pat down on the empty spot next to you,

“Come on, sit.”

Jolyne doesn’t say no to this, she gets up and sits next to you, her legs immediately getting into criss cross position. She was happy being able to get close to you again, your aura was soothing to her. You face her direction,

“I hope this doesn’t come out weird but after our little talk... I’ve grown to be very comfortable with you.”

Jolyne blushes, your face becoming pink as well when you realize you were able to say that out loud. She looks down, a glimpse of her small smile appearing,

“Thanks. I feel comfortable with you too.”

You giggle as you hug Jolyne around the shoulders, she quickly hugs you back around the waist. You blush again when she buries her head further into your neck.

You were thankful that you were already beginning to get close with your new cell mate.

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eveningstar1516 · 3 years

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Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 7

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

As he walked through the halls towards his next class, he made a vow to himself to try and feel that unfamiliar emotion until he could name it, then keep feeling it, because, for Satan, it felt like Y/N was right next to them, with their signature smile on their face, proud of him for focusing on a feeling opposite of his wrath. Should he start to feel his wrath taking over, he would picture Y/N, holding his hand, encouraging him to feel that unfamiliar emotion. One he soon learned was called ‘Philia Love’.

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CHAPTER 7 - Virtue of Loyalty (4265 words)

Our trip to the palace was a quiet one. Michael didn’t seem to want anything to do with me since he flew quite fast and left me behind multiple times as I'd never flown before and flying was extremely difficult. No one offered any assistance so I tucked my wings away, which I managed to figure out how to do after I accidentally did so mid flight, and ran under him. Looking straight ahead after confirming that I was keeping pace with Michael, I spotted the Celestial Palace. My jaw dropped in awe as I ran. The thing was massive! At least 2.5 times the size of Diavolo’s castle and even more decorative. The white walls were adorned with varying shades of golden accents making the palace seem larger than it really was. As I got closer, I learned that it was sitting in the middle of a massive garden that was overflowing with different kinds of celestial plants and trees. Although both the palace and garden seemed to be overflowing with decorations, everything still fit perfectly and was quite pleasing to the eyes.

Approaching the marble steps of the palace as Michael landed in front of me, greeting some gardeners as they stopped and bowed their heads to him. Signalling for them to resume their work, he continued up the steps motioning for me to follow. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I followed him looking as unfazed as possible. Upon entering I found that the outside of the palace does no justice to the massive interior. Abandoning plan to remain as neutral and unfazed as possible, I gazed in absolute awe at the decor, my mouth opening slightly. There were no lighting fixtures as massive windows lined the wall letting in more than enough sunlight through. A massive chandelier was located in the center of the room with golden and silver chains decorating it. The marbled floor also had silver and gold accents as a beautiful floral pattern was outlined. Hearing a chuckle behind me, I turned to see Michael looking at me with a smug smile on his face.

“Well how can you not expect me to be amazed by all this?!” I countered while spinning and gesturing around the room.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your smug smile said it all Mike” I flashed him a wicked smirk of my own as I called him by the nickname. His face darkened significantly as his tone dropped to what would have been a dangerous level had I not have spent my life with demons. It just didn’t have the same undertones as Devilish.

“Watch yourself child”

Giving him an exaggerated mock bow I responded.

“My humble apologies Sir Michael. I will be sure not to repeat the same error in the future.”

“Very funny.” He scoffed and walked off. I got up and followed him through the palace until we stopped between two massive golden doors to what I assumed to be the throne room. Michael addressed himself and stated that he brought me with him. 2 angels donning Celestial armour opened the doors. Michael walked in with his head slightly bowed and his gaze lowered. I walked looking straight ahead as I subtly took the room in. It wasn’t as big as I expected it to be. A golden carpet leading from the door to the throne was the most extravagant thing in the room. In contrast to the rest of the palace, the throne room was quite modest. Even the throne wasn’t extravagant, built for comfort instead of elegance. God himself looked to be a 6’8 man in his late fifties with chestnut coloured hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a simple white robe with gold accents. His eyes, a light blue colour, were emitting a slight white glow as we approached. Michael stopped a short distance from the throne and kneeled.

“Father, I have brought Y/N on your orders.”

“Thank you my son.” He turned to look at me.

“Y/N, you have caused quite the commotion in the 3 realms.”

I kept my tone playful as a polite smile made itself home on my face as I spoke with God.

“What can I say Father, trouble likes to follow me, wherever I may be.”

“That may be my child, although I am quite confused as to how you ended up here especially as a seraph. In case you didn’t know, that position must be earned here in heaven, so please explain to me, why I shouldn’t forsake you and have you fall to the Devildom?” He raised his right eyebrow and relaxed into his throne as he asked his question.

“Oh make no mistake, I didn’t want to come here in the first place, had I actually had a choice, I would have gone to the Devildom where I belong. Unfortunately, circumstances never seem to be on my side.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you came to be here, in that attire nonetheless.”

“Does it upset you that I come donning Lucifer's clothing and wings? I assure you, I didn’t have a say in my appearance. I am only staying here as long as necessary after all. I still wish to fall and return to my family.”

“Tell me child, how is it that a human finds comfort in the likes of demons rather than angels?”

“Whoever said I didn’t find comfort in angels? I find Simeon and Luke to be quite comforting whenever I get stressed with this whole 3 realms stuff. I just find the darkness of the Devildom more appealing as you and I both know what lurks underneath this “bright” soul of mine.”

“And yet you came here to me, why?”

“I presume you know the details regarding my untimely end?”

“Yes I am, although you weren’t due to perish yet, I do not dictate the souls within the Devildom realm. What of it?”

“I sacrificed myself for the brothers whom I have grown to call family so that they may continue to live despite being ruled by a tyrant whom you rivel for the title of “Devil””

“Watch what you say child! You are still addressing Father and not some random person off the street!” Ignoring Michael, I continued.

“I do not wish to return to the Devildom while it is ruled by King Abandon.”

“Child, I am aware of your relationship to the brothers as well as your loyalty to those you call family. I am also aware of the feelings you have for my eldest son. I ask you, has anyone told you about his duties while he was serving me?”

“Yes, Simeon and his brothers would speak about his time here as the leader of the council. Lucifer himself preferred not to talk about it but he answered my questions whenever I asked. I have also learned his work habits and often aided him whenever an overflow of work had come in due on a short notice.” God seemed to contemplate something. With a thoughtful look on his face, he addressed me.

“I have a proposition for you. You wish to fall and reunite with your family in the Devildom. I do not wish to have you up here, although you do not want to serve King Abandon.”

“That is correct.”

“I will grant your wish on one condition. I will allow you to return to the Devildom after Abandon’s reign is over, on the condition that you take Samael’s position on the council. You are to take over his responsibilities without attempting to sabotage the realm or abuse your power. Should you not be able to meet my expectations, or should you abuse your position, I will cast you out regardless of who is currently ruling the Devildom.”

Michael, who had stayed silent while his Father was speaking, was shocked by God's proposition.

“Father, are you sure this is the right way to go? Y/N doesn’t even belong here. Are you sure trusting them with Samael’s old position is a good idea?”

“Do you disagree with my judgment Michael? Do you believe me incapable of determining Y/N’s fate in my realm?”

Michaels face visibly paled as he realized the implications of his words. Bowing his head in mortification he answered his Father.

“‘O-of course not Father! I just don’t think that Y/N is qualified or ready to lead the council. They are unaware of how the Celestial realm operates and doesn’t have the experience that Samael possessed.”

Scratching his chin, God thought about Michael's words.

“You’re right Michael, you and the rest of the council as well as Simeon and Luke shall serve as their guide during their time here. You are to teach them how we operate and train them as to how to properly fulfill Samael’s role. You are to step down as the leader of the council once they have learned how to fill in the role themselves.”

Not being able to object to his Father's words, Michael agreed, although he tried to hide it, you could see how he clenched his teeth, obviously disapproving the entire idea and his new role as your babysitter.

“How about it Y/N, will you accept my proposal?”

“I have a few conditions of my own I’d like to add. I will accept on the condition that I return as soon as Diavolo is crowned king, no later and that other than the obvious changes that come with falling, no other changes will be made to me. I will follow your rules while I am up here and will serve you as long as it doesn’t result in any harm coming to the Devildom or Earth and their inhabitants. I will fulfill my role as Lucifer’s replacement during my time here, no more, no less.”

“Of course, that goes without saying. I will also add that you are to have no contact with any being outside my realm during your time here. We wouldn’t want anyone coming up here to retrieve you before our deal has ended now would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t. I accept your proposal to be Lucifer’s replacement until the time comes for Diavolo's crowning. Until then, I shall serve you and the council to the best of my abilities.” I stepped closer and kneeled before him as he sealed the deal.

“Alright then, as you are no doubt aware, each angel on my council represents a virtue. You shall as well. While Humility does not suit you quite right, I shall grant you a new virtue. One that could be considered a sin should it be applied incorrectly. I think you’d like that. Rise Y/N, Virtue of Loyalty.”

I rose to my feet as an invisible force caused my wings and halo to appear. They glowed a light blue as whatever magic God was using to tie me to the Celestial realm ran its course. Once the glowing dimmed down, I tucked my wings back in and bowed my head once more towards the being I now served for the time being and exited the throne room, making my way back to the House of Honors with Michael close behind. As we reached the front door, Michael turned me around. A hard and unforgiving expression on his face. A look of outright hatred in his eyes.

“Listen Y/N, just because Father has accepted you into the Celestial realm, doesn’t mean the rest of us have. You are still an outsider and I frankly do not trust anyone who has spent so much time around demons. I will follow Father’s orders in training you, but know this, Y/N, if I so much as suspect you of doing anything to upset the balance in the Celestial realm, if you hurt any of the angels here, I will take matters into my own hands. I will not allow a being as tainted as you to wreak havoc among the angels. Am I understood?”

Meeting his gaze, a smile made its way to my face as I responded.

“I will hold you to that.”

He took one last hard look at me and walked through the door. Left alone on the steps, I thought to myself, ‘Soon my demons, I’ll be back, soon’. I walked to the gardens and spent the next few hours tending to it until dinner.

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

As soon as they got home, Mammon went straight to Y/N’s room. How could he let this happen? He was their first damn it! He should have protected them, he should have stopped Lucifer, he should have done something! He entered Y/N’s room and immediately sat on their bed, made messily in their excitement to meet the king. He held their pillow, hugging to his chest as he started crying. Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear Asmo following him. Upon entering the room and seeing the state his older brother was in, Asmo put aside his own grievances and sat next to Mammon and embraced him, letting him cry on his shoulder. This reminded Asmo of a time in the Celestial realm. They were playing with Levi in the gardens when Levi tried to show off his tree climbing skills. As he was nearing the top, Mammon noticed the branch Levi was climbing looked ready to snap. He tried to warn Levi but was too late as the branch snapped and Levi fell. Mammon wasn’t fast enough to catch him. Levi ended up dislocating a wing and spraining his right shoulder. Asmo remembered walking by Mammon's room that night and heard quiet sobs, he knocked and opened the door revealing Mammon sitting on his bed, hugging his pillow crying. He sat next to his older brother and hugged him, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault and that Levi would be just fine. Coming out of the memory, Asmo did the same now, hugging Mammon and reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have stopped Y/N from giving that order and that everything will be ok.

“Will it be though? It just won’t be the same without them.”

“I know. It will be hard, Y/N was our family, but we’ll be there for each other.”

They slept together, holding each other in Y/N’s bed comforting each other until they fell asleep.

Present

It was an ordinary day for Mammon. He had just gotten back from a modelling gig at Majolish and was thinking up ways to spend the money he just earned. He was thinking of treating himself to a night out as he’d also gotten a math test back that day and passed with a 90%! Just as he was thinking about where to go, he felt the pull of a summoning. Mammon opened his eyes to find himself in an old cold basement. He scanned the room noting that the only lighting provided was a small bulb with a pull down string in the middle of the room and 3 small candles near the summoning circle. He found that the room was practically empty save for a thin mattress in a corner and some stairs leading to a door. He then spotted the one who summoned him, a little girl. She looked to be no older than 5. She was wearing stained and ripped overalls, one of the straps was missing. A light pink t-shirt underneath. Her brown hair was relatively short, only reaching her shoulders and was a tangled mess. Upon looking closer, Mammon noticed that she was covered head to toe in bruises and there were deep scratch marks on her arms and legs. He looked at the hastily drawn circle under him and found out that she drew it with some chalked rocks. She held an old summoning book close to her chest. Her big brown eyes looked so scared, yet if he looked closer, he could see what looked to be hope sparkling in the background. He could tell by looking at her that she held vast magical potential. Whoever put her here obviously knew the same.

“A-are you Mammon?” By Diavolo, she sounded so broken, like if he spoke too loud, she would shatter. Kneeling down to her level, Mammon put a soft smile on his face.

“Yes I am. What’s your name?”

“Cynthia”

“Ok Cynthia, what can I help you with.” Mammon doesn’t know what it was about the little girl, but he found himself genuinely wanting to help her. Maybe it was the way they looked at him with hope. Maybe it was because they were just a kid, or maybe, it was because her eyes reminded him of Y/N’s.

“I want to leave. My parents locked me in here. They don’t care about me. They only use me for their spells. Please Mammon, help me. I’ll give you my soul if you want, just please!” Tears came to her eyes as she pleaded with him to help her. Mammon upon hearing what these sorcerers were doing with their daughter, became enraged. He held his hand out to Cynthia with a smile on his face. He took the book from her hands and put it on the ground next to him.

“No, no, no. I won’t take your soul. It’s alright Cynthia, I’ll help ya. Why did you think I’d need your soul to help you?” “That’s what my parents said. They’ve been using me to try and summon you. I heard them arguing about who’s soul they would give to form a pact. Then they decided that they would give you mine.” Mammon didn’t think he could get madder, but by now, he was seeing red. Not only did her parents lock her up, they used her to try and summon him thinking he’d just accept a child’s soul to form a pact with them! Mammon was beyond angry.

“Don’t worry Cynthia, the Great Mammon will take care of your parents! You’ll be out of here in no time.” Sensing his rage Cynthia grabbed onto his legs before he made it to the stairs.

“No, don’t hurt them!” Mammon looked down at the girl in shock.

“Please don’t hurt them. They may have done all these awful things to me but they’re still my mom and dad! I don’t want you to hurt them, just get me out of here!” Mammon looked at the girl like she’d gone crazy. Her parents, who have locked her up in a basement, used her for spells, hell even tried summoning him in exchange for her own soul, she wanted them alive?! He saw how genuine she was being and he couldn’t find the heart to say no to her. Instead, Mammon knelt down to her level and took her hand. Cynthia looked at him with tears threatening to overflow. Mammon brought his other hand to cup her face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Ok Cynthia, I won’t hurt them. I am mad at your parents for doing this to you, but if you don’t want me to hurt them, I won’t.” Mammon then brought Cynthia’s right hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently. A yellow seal formed on the back of her right hand and a matching pink one on the palm of Mammon's right.

“Now we have a pact Cynthia. I didn’t take your soul, I took your sadness. Did you know that demons could also take emotions to form a pact?”

“N-no. Does this mean you’ll take me far away from here?”

“Yes, and it also means that you won’t ever feel sad again. I know a nice witch who can take care of you. She will teach you how to use and call me with the pact. This way, whenever you’re in trouble, you will be able to summon me without drawing the circle again and I can come protect ya.”

“O-ok.” Mammon then picked Cynthia up and walked up the stairs, kicking the basement door down he walked through the house towards the front door. Before he reached it though, he heard a scream behind him. He noticed that Cynthia tensed considerably in his arms as he set her down, hiding her behind his legs. He turned around coming face to face with a middle aged couple who he preserved to be Cynthia’s parents. Her mom then yelled at Cynthia.

“Cynthia Maxwell Daemon! You come here right this instant!”

“Shut your mouth lady. She doesn't belong to you anymore.”

“Nonsense! She’s my daughter. She is mine to do with what I want!” Mammon's patience was running out. A scowl appeared on his face as he growled out.

“Listen here lady, I’ve got some choice words for you two that I wouldn’t care to say in front of the girl, but the fact that you thought you could summon me and exchange her soul for a pact with you? You're crazy to think I’d ever accept that kind of pact. Now Cynthia and I are leaving and you ain’t ever using her again!”

Cynthia’s parents then realized who they were talking to and their attitudes immediately changed.

“Please forgive us, Lord Mammon. We hadn’t planned for the girl to summon you. We apologize for the inconvenience the child caused you. If you would stay, we could reimburse you for your troubles.” Cynthia’s father bowed his head as he addressed Mammon. Mammon on the other hand outright laughed at that statement. Turning into his demon form he barked out

“You think her summoning me was an inconvenience?! You two are crazier than I thought! Now listen here and listen closely, neither of you are to come near or look for her. None of you are going to use her again. We are leaving and don’t ever bother trying to summon me again. Ya know, you should thank Cynthia. If she didn’t plead with me not to hurt either of you, you’d both be dead. Make no mistake, if either of you try to summon me or if I find you anywhere near her again, I will rip your hearts out and feed you to Cerberus. Kapeesh?” The dark undertones of Mammon’s voice got through to Cynthia’s parents as their faces paled in fear and they quickly agreed. They begged for his forgiveness and promised not to harm Cynthia again if he could just stay awhile. Not bothering with them anymore, Mammon picked Cynthia up and walked out, flying towards the one witch he’d ever trusted. When he landed, he realized that Cynthia was crying.

“Sorry Cyn, I didn’t scare ya, did I?”

“A-a little, but these aren’t scared tears. I’m happy. Thank you for getting me away from them and for letting them live.”

“Of course. The Great Mammon keeps his promises.” Mammon walked up to the door of the small cottage. He knocked and a young witch with long blond hair, green eyes, and freckles answered the door.

“Mammon what a surprise! What brings you here?” She opened the door gesturing for him to come in.

“Sorry, not today Kelly. I’m actually here for her.” Mammon stepped aside, revealing a scared Cynthia behind him.

“Oh my Diavolo! What happened to you, you poor girl?!” Kelly rushed forward cupping Cynthia’s chin as she inspected her body, taking in all the bruises and cuts.

“Kelly, this is Cynthia. She summoned me to save her from her parents. I was wondering if ya could take care of her. I know ya've always wanted a kid, so…”

“Of course! I could never turn someone in need away, especially a girl as cute as her.” She said while pinching Cynthia’s cheeks. Cynthia giggled in response.

“Ok then, Cynthia, Kelly here’s gonna take care of you. I promise that she won’t act like your mom and she will help you learn how to use both your magic and your pact.” Reaching into his pocket, Mammon pulled out the Grimm he’d earned that day. He then put them into Cynthia’s palm.

“Here ya go kid. Now if you ever visit me, you’ll have some money to spend.” Mammon turned to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Cynthia pulling him down to the ground. He crouched down. Cynthia then kissed his cheek, giving him one of the Grimm he’d given her.

“Thank you Mammon.” She then ran behind Kelly’s legs and waved goodbye with a massive smile on her face.

It’s been a couple years since Mammon saved Cynthia. She’d grown to be a strong and skilful sorcerer. He’d visit her often over the years with something in tow for her. Mammon never spent the Grimm that Cynthia gave back to him on that day. Whenever Mammon had a tough time with the numerous witches he’d find himself in debt with, he’d always find his way to her, and she comforted him, never asking for more than his company, something he was more than happy to give. His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

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wagner-fell · 3 years

Text

Spiders Are Ugly And Other Lies Capitalism Has Told Us (part one)

“Dad,” Astrid called out, shutting the coral coloured front door behind her. “Are you home?”

She dumped her cream tote bag spray painted with the words ‘Washing Machine Heart’ in big, rainbow letters onto one of the stools facing the granite countertop. The rest of the Merry Hoes followed suit. It was weird seeing a person as chaotic as Astrid in such a calm environment.

They were all spending the summer in LA with Astrid and her Dad. It had taken a while for Kevin to convince his family it was a good idea. Especially because he and Blessica had finally put years of pinning behind them. Making out on Kit’s bed at Mina’s third birthday party certainly wasn’t the way they had envisioned it but as the longing was over with, they were happy.

The Chu’s didn’t love the idea of their son living in a different country for three months with his girlfriend but we’re on board once Kevin assured them there was no possible way Blessica could get pregnant.

Kit wasn’t officially sleeping at the Yang’s but at the Institute with his boyfriend. Julian wasn’t so thrilled about the situation but Emma was. She was positively ecstatic about having a training partner as skilled as Kit was, courtesy of Jem and Tessa. Though staying a thirty minute drive away (on the wrong side of the road, Mari noted) wouldn’t keep Kit away for long. Even now he was with them instead of having his own reunion make out session.

Speaking of making out…

Mari rested their chin on the top of Astrid’s head and wrapped their arms around her middle. “Why don’t you show us your room while we wait for your dad to get home.”

It was kinda perfect, Mari often remarked, that she realized her feelings for their best friend weren’t so platonic as she previously led herself to believe at the same time they and Kit realized they were better off as just platonic.

Astrid hit her hand playfully. “That’s not fair!” she whined! ”How dare you take advantage of my constant hornyness when my God-fearing Presbyterian father could be in the next room? Shame! Shame on you, shame on your family, shame on your cow.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘dishonor’”, said Kit, who didn’t even look up from his phone when he addressed her, “but go off I guess.”

Astrid looked like she was questioning all her life choices up to this point. “A white boy knows Mulan better than me.” She shook her head in disgust. Mari could feel the loose hairs of her girlfriend’s ponytail ticking her exposed collar bone. “Mulan.”

Mari laughed before softly brushing their lips against Astrid mop of bleached strands of pastel yellow, pink and blue mixed magnificently with her natural inky black.

“Is hornyness even a word?” Kevin wondered aloud as he observed the knickknacks placed at even intervals utop the kitchen cabinets. Blessica was with him. She was gazing at one of a crab steering a ship when she spotted a slim piece of paper taped below it.

“Ast,” she called. The both looked in her direction, despite Blessica needing the attention of one. “Your dad says he won’t be home till seven. Emergency at work.”

“Which leaves us more than enough time to pack and head over to meet Ty, Dru and Thaìs at the arcade,” said Kit. He finally turned his phone off and shoved it into the back pocket of his ripped jeans. “Marstrid can do the ol’ devil’s tango then catch up to us.”

‘Marstrid’ wrinkled their noses. “I thought we agreed on Astari, Christopher.”

“Astari sounds gayer,” confirmed Kevin, his eyes never leaving the miniature decorations.

“Not to be rude but why does Astari sound gayer?” asked a visibly confused Blessica.

“Because,” answered Mari, unraveling herself from Astrid to slide onto one of the bar stools and reaching into the Jolly Rancher jar, blindly searching for a green, “Astari has ‘star’ in it. Star equals astrology. An obsession with astrology is the price you pay for the gay agenda. Besides, Marstrid sounds like an old southern lady.” Then she furrowed her eyebrows and swiveled to face Astrid. “Southern is Texas, right?” Astrid nooded, a smile so big the Cheshire Cat would be jealous.

Without looking, she stuck her hand in the jar and pulled out a green apple flavoured hard candy on her first try. She held it out to Mari, who snatched it out of her hand with an angry huff.

“Hey, Ast, where do you guys keep the crisps?” asked Kevin when he finished inspecting all the knickknacks.

“Uh, under the barbecue sauce, I think.”

Kit’s eyes lit up. “So I’m sitting there”- Astrid understood what was happening in just enough time to quote- “barbecue sauce on my titties” in unison.

Mari put her head into their open palms, still sucking on the pity candy. “Why is this my type?”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” asked Blessica as Kit attempted to parallel park outside the location Ty had texted him to meet at. Key word, attempt. When Tessa had taught him to drive, he’d been such a disaster at parallel parking she had instructed him to ‘take the underground when tight spaces might be a possibility.’ Which he prided himself in doing. But this was America and the underground was called the subway, so, technically, no rules were being broken.

“Yes, Blessie, I’m certain.”

“Okay. Just checking cause a few turns back the GPS said-”

“Blessie!” He nearly crashed into the car in front of him.

“Right. Shutting up.”

When Kit managed to park with minimal damage and the three were about to exit, the voice of Nicki Minaj boomed from his pocket. Ty was calling him. He accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hello Tiberius.” There was giggling from the other end of the line. A groan soon followed it.

“It’s been a year,” came the annoyed voice of Dru. “Get over your British kink already.” Kevin’s laughter echoed from the backseat.

“Hey Ty!

“Hi Kevin.”

”Hey Dru!”

“Fuck off.”

“Ouch. Why do you feel the need to hurt me so?” Blessica laughed.

“Hey…Thaìs?”

“Here,” replied Thaìs cheerfully.

“Are you here yet,” asked Ty.

“Uh, yeah! We were just getting out of the rental car when you called. You didn’t tell me it was going to be crowded. I had to parallel park!”

“What are you talking about?” interrupted Dru. ”There are only four cars in the parking lot.”

“But,” Ty countered, “there are lots of Billy’s Fun Zones’ around here. You guys must have got mixed up and taken a wrong turn. I could have sworn I sent you the correct location on GPS.” Maybe Ty said more on the subject but Kit could hear anything or see anything except the superior smirk Blessica was giving him.

He covered the speaker. “Not. A. Word.” And no word came out of her mouth the entire ride to the correct Billy’s Fun Zone but the ‘I told you so’ look on her face spoke loud enough.

Kit slid back into the booth next to Ty, handing him his pretzel. Ty kissed him on the check in gratitude.

Dru and Ty were right. About this one being empty. He told him he had heard about it from Alyssa. Her pack frequented it often. They were left alone because, well, there was no one else there to bother them.

“Where are Astrid and Mari?” he asked.

“Fucking. I think. Or maybe just making out. I’ll know which one when they finish.” When Ty gave him a puzzled look he continued, “Astrid describes it all to me in full detail. I honestly don’t know whether she doesn’t have a filter or she just needs someone to scream to about how amazing Mari is.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“True, true.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Ty picked up the conversation again. “When Thaìs first met Astrid, she had a huge crush on her. They got along great. I always thought they would end up together. Or hook up at the very least.”

“Huh, that’s funny,” observed Kit.

“What is?”

“When me and Mari split, I was planning on trying to set them up with Thaìs. But then I caught her ans Astrid making out in a storage closet at school. Which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid cause they were in there so I wouldn’t be sad Mari moved on when I opened the door in the first place avoiding her to call you.”

“Hmmmm.”

The gears in Ty’s head were visibly turning. Kit loved watching this process. An idea was forming in his boyfriend’s genius mind, he could sense it.

“What is their stance on monogamy?” he asked finally.

“Um, fuck, hold on. Mari sent me this whole speech about it.” Kit scrolled through his phone at a rapid rate before he saw what he was looking for. He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:52 AM: monogamy is just another lie capitalism has fed us

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:55 AM: like, for example, the notion that house spiders are ugly and to be feared

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: it’s just to sell bug spray

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: same with monogamy

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: pointless!!!

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:58 AM: in conclusion, if I want to join a polyam cult, who tf is the government to stop me?

Kev-Kev, sent 2:01 AM: mari please go to sleep

Bless-ing_to_the_world, sent 2:04 AM: ^^^^^^^^^^^

Mitski_my_love, sent 2:05 AM: preach!

Mitski_my_love, sent 2:05 AM: go off queen

By the time Kit was finished with his dramatic reading, Ty’s plan was fully formed.

“That settles it! We are going to play matchmakers!”

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

Alyssa, Ty’s friend mentioned is @thechangeling OC, not mine.

@the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @adoravel-fenomeno @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @sofiatheskeleton @cncnbr @its-taff @noah-herondale-lightwood @maxboythedog @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @book-dragon-not-worm sorry if I missed anyone LMK if you want to be added or removed from The tag List!!

#mari machado sotomayor #mari machado #mari the werewolf #tiberius blackthorn #dru blackthorn #ty blackthorn #drusilla blackthorn #blessica reyes #the merry hoes #kevin chu #astrid yang #kit rook #kit herondale #thais pedroso #the secrets of blackthorn hall #the wicked powers

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Season 2 Summary (Volume 2: Ch 2 - 5)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers from S2 🍒

Along with the update on 3 June 2021, the CN server released a “Plot Review” which contains bullet-point summaries of S2 :>

Volume 1 Summary: here

Your company is suspected of distributing prohibited “Small Syringes”. While being questioned by reporters, Gavin handcuffs you, and you cooperate

“I’ll escort her myself.”

In the STF interrogation room, you don’t flinch despite repeated questioning, because you’re very clear about what you have to do. When Gavin comes to the interrogation room, he is very straightforward and asks what you wish to talk to him about

[Extra tidbit from Cheri] The person who interrogates MC at first is Tang Chao, whose Evol enables him to detect lies. Afterwards, he gets scolded by Gavin because he wasn’t supposed to be there LOL

It turns out that he already guessed that you were the one who lodged the report. This way, you could talk to Gavin in an absolutely safe location, and also lure the actual middleman involved in the distribution of the drugs

He never doubted your innocence

Gavin plans to use this opportunity to purge the STF of traitors. Through the surveillance cameras of STF, you watch as Gavin organises all sorts of work in a systematic manner. In his spare time, he pays close attention to you

After investigating them one by one, Gavin finally lock onto one particular STF agent

While an STF agent is sending you out, you feel that the situation is odd. Just as you formulate your conclusion, you hear Gavin’s urgent voice

“Get away from that person!”

Gavin fires a shot, and the bullet whizzes towards you

“That person is F-45!”

F-45, the traitor, has an ability to swap objects. He has a companion. Not only did he swap positions with his companion, but he also swapped positions with a STF badge. He has been lying low, waiting for an opportunity to take action. Now, he swaps positions with you, leaving you to die

At imminent peril, Gavin expedites his Evol to stop that bullet, then uses this chance to strike down F-45, who attempts a sneak attack. The identity of the other traitor is also confirmed - he’s a member bearing the serial number U-2. His ability is using sound to create explosions

U-2 uses his Evol to create a series of explosions. You and Gavin are left deep in the scene of the fire

Knowing full well that fire has a significant meaning to Gavin, you can’t help but feel very worried. But Gavin is far stronger than you think. Because of himself, and because of you, Gavin doesn’t retreat in the large fire, and finally subdues U-2, handcuffing him. Unexpectedly, U-2 uses his own body to create an even greater explosion!

You and Gavin eventually obtain a narrow victory, while the two traitors die in the sea of fire

From F-45′s final memories, you discover that they chose to serve an anti-Evol criminal organisation called Gray Rhino. It seems that there are more complexities and darkness hidden behind this incident

Gavin is sent to the hospital, and your company is formally cleared of all suspicion regarding the distribution of prohibited drugs. More importantly, you and Gavin have reunited again

In your heart, you're certain that even though the both of you are in different camps, you have mutual trust in each other, walking shoulder to shoulder on an even more rugged path, heading towards a future which won’t be destroyed

Your subordinate from Black Swan tells you that the STF has found the production factory for the “Small Syringes”. They seize the opportunity to shift ten boxes away in secret, and you tell them to analyse it as soon as possible

At the same time, you decide to produce a show related to Evol after a series of discussions in the community spring up after what happened with the company before. This way, more people can pay close attention to and ponder over Evol

Lucien accepts an interview on the show

Just as you recall how he had once said similar words, you sense that there’s something strange about a mother berating her son along the roadside. Under the mother’s continuous provocation, the boy’s Evol is stimulated and goes completely out of control. The gravity in the surroundings changes

You notice that this child was once given a dose of the “Small Syringes” by his mother

Being rolled into the area where gravity is in chaos, Lucien protects you with a white protective screen. With your assistance, Lucien replicates the boy’s gravity Evol, averting a disaster

Worried about this mother-son duo, you inquire about what will happen to them in the future. Lucien doesn’t give you a direct answer. Instead, he asks you a question - would you choose to pursue this matter or stay far away?

“In that case, continue searching. I look forward to your answer.”

You can see a glint of admiration in Lucien’s eyes

Afterwards, in order to make it easier for you to rest, he takes you to a desolate train station. Perhaps you didn’t realise it, but the two of you have already entered a strange space

The two of you board the train. While conversing with Lucien, you verify the importance of CORE, and also make clear that whether or not there is Evol, the world will continue to advance, and will continue to progress

You fall asleep on the train. When you wake up, what meets your vision is a wheat field with heavy snowfall

You once again hear the conversation you shared with Lucien when you were a child, but you hear an overlapping echo. Lucien explains that the dreamworld seems to be a suppressed memory

The two of you open a door. You see that the world is divided and upside down

Lucien says that this world hasn’t been divided, but “folded” - things that appeared to be going backwards are perhaps undergoing another form of advancement

In the dreamworld, the way you’ve pushed yourself over the years and the negative emotions surge forth. Fortunately, Lucien creates a tiny safety zone for you

“You can walk slowly. Knowing that you’re always walking is enough.”

Even though it’s a dreamworld, Lucien also tells you that the future you want will definitely exist

As Lucien leaves the dreamworld, he once again confirms the sense of misalignment that he had sensed

He vaguely senses that he has tossed aside a very long past, and decides to begin research on this world

At this moment, he notices an invitation card in his drawer

“You’ve worked hard.”

Away from the shoal, in the depths of a boundless ocean, Lucien continually sinks, gradually closing his eyes

You send a report containing the components of “Small Syringes” to Victor. However, he doesn’t check his e-mail as quickly as he usually does

While you’re feeling puzzled, you receive shocking news -

The CEO of LFG has met with a car accident

You immediately rush to his ward. Fortunately, he isn’t in a serious condition

For his safety, you arrange for a bodyguard to protect him in the hospital, but Victor flatly rejects this

“Since you’re this worried, stay behind personally.”

As such, you stay in the ward next door, keeping watch on Victor

In the ward, you hand over the results of your investigation to Victor. The analysis shows that there are extremely small traces of CORE in the “Small Syringes”. Gray Rhino, which allowed the drugs to be distributed, has always been against Evol. Perhaps they intend to use the drugs to harm people who wish to obtain Evol. You can’t help but wonder how that person with inky ash eyes is related to everything

Late at night, you spot Victor along the corridor as he observes the city lights. He tells you that he’s looking for someone. Meeting his meaningful gaze, you recall the promise you once made to “find the him from the past”. During this conversation, he also tells you that joining BS was meant for a greater benefit, and to see how far one can go with an Evol ability

You receive news that the driver who caused the accident has regained consciousness, and you plunge into his memories. You discover that because he became bankrupt after a lawsuit with LFG, he participated in the Hunter Game

While attempting to escape the game, he witnessed his camaraderies getting killed in the process. Just as you wonder if he attacked Victor because he had no other choice, a shadow slips into his ward, and he doesn’t have good intentions

You give Victor an urgent signal while attempting to flee

At this dangerous moment, you receive a message from the “past” -

“Why are you in a daze? Run!”

You take action, following Victor’s commands in your mind as you dodge

The person is stalled in the lift, and you fall into Victor’s arms. He pulls you to hide in a nearby room, and you manage to escape

When you had sent the warning earlier, Victor also received a message from the “past”, which enabled him find you

After Victor is discharged, the two of you conjecture that the Hunter Game could have been designed to target Evolvers. The reason why people were silenced after trying to escape could perhaps be due to the mastermind wanting to hide something

After you leave, Victor receives a corgi plush that you sent. He senses that when it comes to things related to you, he will inexplicably become a little more amiable

There are many problems to resolve, and all these conflicts point towards one source: the Black Swan CORE. He decides to personally take part in the Hunter Game as an individual participating in matched betting

On a certain day, the helicopter lands on the roof of LFG. Like always, Victor clarifies information pertaining to work with his employees

“The remaining approvals for today are to be left with Goldman for now. I’ll make time to have a look.”

At a certian location, a sniper rifle takes aim at him. In the next second, the trigger is pulled

You receive an invitation to the Hunter Game. At this moment, Kiro gives you a call to ask if you’ve seen anything strange. You mention the Hunter Game

Kiro’s voice turns disjointed. A man with inky ash eyes suddenly appears. Your mind grows hazy. Just before you completely lose consciousness, you see the symbol of a stone tablet, which has thistles and thorns on it

When you reawaken, you discover that you’ve been roped into the Hunter Game

You do your best to defeat a player who is attacking you. Unfortunately, you meet another person who is better skilled than you. Just as you’re suppressed and losing all hope, you hear a familiar voice. The person in front of you is Kiro

After dealing with the player, he pastes a microchip on the metal necklace you’re wearing. This way, your movements won’t be tracked. He also guides you to a hole of a tree which is concealed very well

In this insane game, you can finally rest for a while

“In this game, the only way to accumulate points is to attack others.”

You look at him, telling him resolutely that the two of you must leave this place safely

Just as you wonder how Kiro managed to enter the arena, the metal necklace gives out a reminder: it’s time for tools to be circulated

The two of you witness as a player is killed while fighting for tools. From this, you discover that players can temporarily strengthen their own Evol by injecting themselves with drugs provided by the game

Through an analysis, the two of you conjecture that the mastermind is also searching for CORE

At this moment, the game announces a mission - you have turned into the target of every single player

Fortunately, due to the tacit understanding you share with Kiro, your coordination enables the both of you to shake off numerous players. Afterwards, the two of you accidentally discover a strange building. Closely compacted infrared rays surround the building, which might result in gunfire. Withstanding the stress, Kiro opens his mini laptop and resolves the crisis before him

“This is the magic of a superhero!”

After saying this, he pulls you into a run towards the forest. The sudden explosions leave you two falling next to a precipice

Kiro grips your wrist tightly. Noticing that he’s straining himself, you think of asking him to let go. Seeming to see through your intentions, he tells you not to give up, and that he has already made arrangements

You choose to believe him

Just as what Kiro says, someone pulls the two of you up the cliff just before Kiro completely exhausts his energy

Kiro finds a way to remove the metal necklace. He looks at you with a gentle gaze, but you feel that something’s wrong-

“Now, have a good sleep. When you wake up, don’t mention this game to anyone. Then... forgive me.”

His Evol puts you into a deep sleep

He removes your silver necklace, puts it on his own neck, then leaves by himself

When you wake up, you find yourself in an underground passage. Just as you think of finding the exit as quickly as possible, you hear Shaw’s voice from the other side of the wall

You attempt to call out to him, but receive no response. Thinking it was just a misperception, you accelerate your footsteps, continuing to search for the exit

On the other side, Shaw has been trying to call you. Because your phone is turned off, and his phone is out of battery, he’s unable to contact you

[Extra tidbit from Cheri] He also attempts to charge his phone with his Evol but fails LOL

He pinches a photograph of a stone tablet. A symbol “8″ is engraved on the stone tablet which is surrounded by thistles and thorns

At this point, you, who were innocently roped into the Hunter Game, arrive at the exit and meet Shaw

“I didn’t expect you to be the one here.”

Shaw sits on the railway tracks as he looks at you, an icy smile on his lips

You pause where you are, testing the waters and asking him what he’s doing here

His tone brims with disdain and alienation. Even though you don't understand what he’s saying, you can sense a certain danger, and there seems to be a misunderstanding between the two of you

In the next moment, accompanied by the roar of a train’s whistle, the sound of thunder completely fills the horizon

Volume 3 (Ch 6 - 9): here

More S2 content: here

A detailed translation of Gavin’s part is available here!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Covenant: Sweet Dreams

Part One | Part Two

Chase Collins x Reader

Word Count: 1,931

Warning: contains physical intimacy and some mature language

Summary: You’ve been away for weeks and Chase has no problems Using to prove just how much he misses you.

It was cold and snowy outside, but the bed was cozy, the comforter wrapped around you thick. Added with a mattress with the right level of firmness and fluffy hotel pillows, and sleep came easy.

In one moment, you were curled on your side, drowsily watching the occasional flash of headlights that filtered in through the blinds. In the next, everything went black. The black was absolute, but not frightening. It was the kind of black that made you feel safe, like when you closed your eyes after a long day and shut everything else out.

Suddenly, you felt another presence in the dark and knew you were no longer alone. A crooning voice whispered in your ear. “Open those eyes for me, pet… there you go… that’s it.”

It took considerable effort but you manage to flutter your lids open like the sweet voice prompted. Something in that voice made it impossible to resist listening to it and you sighed in relief when you felt the voice’s fingers stroke your scalp in reward.

Gathering more strength now that your eyes were open, you turned your head toward the presence and saw that the fingers and the voice belonged to the same person. One that you knew. Knew very well, actually, seeing as how he was your boyfriend.

“Chase, what are you doing here?”

He smiled that signature smile of his. The one that always seemed so sweet at first glance, but masked the edge he normally tried to hide. “What? A guy can’t visit the love of his life?”

His words had you fully awake and you sat up, the darkness transitioning into the familiar view of your bedroom. “Wait. Are you real?” You peered around, your eyesight quickly adjusting. Saw your alarm clock on the nightstand. The piles of clothes that needed to be put away sitting on top of your desk.

He merely laid back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “Well, not physically. But that doesn’t mean it’s not really me.”

You looked again and noticed how the edges of the room looked blurry, like someone had smudged the lines of the ceiling and floor. But everything else appeared perfect and you had definitely felt Chase touching you just now…

“So it’s a dream then,” you concluded. You smacked his chest with the back of your hand after a moment. “You promised to stop being so reckless with your powers, you idiot.”

“This isn’t reckless. I haven’t seen you in two weeks. That qualifies this dreamscape as an emergency in my book.”

He was right about that part. It had been weeks since you’d last seen one another. You had been traveling for research related to your master’s degree program and wouldn’t be flying home for another few days. In hind sight, that fact alone should’ve been enough for you to realize this was taking place in a dream space.

“As much as I love hearing that you miss me, this doesn’t count as an emergency, Chase.” He pouted, resting his head on your lap so he could rub his face into your thighs. “But since you’ve already went and done it… I happy you’re here.”

“Good. That means I can move to the next phase of my plan,” he murmured under his breath as if accidently thinking out loud. Which was a lie, of course. Chase was so self-aware that he never said anything by accident. If he said it out loud, it was because he wanted you to you hear him.

“Next phase?” you asked, playing along with his game.

“Well, you see—I think best if I just show you.” He picked up his head to press a kiss to your covered thigh, making sure to make eye contact with you. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes.

His kisses moved upward to your hip. To your stomach. To your ribs. To your neck. Until he finally reached your mouth. He kept it very chaste, opting to press a fleeting closed-lip kiss to the side of your mouth. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you shivered.

He pulled back, holding your face securely in his hands. “What do you say, hmn? Shall we continue?”

Before you could consciously think about it, your head was nodding up and down. The mood instantly changed from sweet touches to hungry intent. Black started leeching from the pupil to completely cover both of Chase’s eyes and you knew you were in for it.

You saw was the flash of his fire rimmed eyes and suddenly you were laid flat out on your back. The sheets were cool against your naked skin, bared completely nude for Chase’s own viewing pleasure. A blindfold took away your vision, leaving you in darkness once again. Unlike when you were trying to fall asleep, you were now hyper-alert for any sounds or touches in order to compensate for the loss.

Next, your arms were pulled up above your head. A quick test proved that your wrists were wrapped in sooth silk, likely conjured by your boyfriend, and bound to your headboard; your arms wouldn’t be moving until Chase allowed it. Your heart was already hammering in your chest and nothing had even happened yet.

He parted your legs so that he could position himself in between them. He spread them into a wide ‘v’ and spanked one of your thighs. “Keep them open, okay? Otherwise they get tied up too.”

He moved up your body to hover over your chest and you made sure not to move your legs. Chase demanded obedience and he was petty enough to leave you tied up, and untouched, if you didn’t follow the rules.

He leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his warm breath raising goosebumps around the area. The touch seemed even more sensual now that you couldn’t see it coming. He alternated between strong sucks and playful flicks of his tongue. Not wanting to leave the other out, his hand crept up to grasp the bud with his fingers, stroking it masterfully until it hardened into a peak.

You sighed in bliss, the thread connecting your sensitive nipples to your sex lighting up. He wasn’t satisfied though.

“I know you’re louder than that. Come on, let me hear you,” he said pinching your nipple. The pinch made you squirm and he followed it with a drawn-out lick to ease the pain.

The familiar duality of hard-soft treatment got you to release your first moan of the night and even though you couldn’t confirm it, you just knew that Chase had a smug grin on his face. “Louder,” he insisted darkly. The rumble of his voice combined with his sinful touches had you mewling, your back arching to keep his mouth on you.

“That’s more like it,” he purred.

With a parting lick, he detached himself completely and you had no idea what he would do next—your hearing no help since your heavy moaning drowned out every other sound. He left you in suspense for a few minutes, your body wound tight, and it wasn’t until you shifted your legs that he made his move.

“Uh uh uh,” he tsked in a sing-song voice. “What did I say? And I thought you were going to be good for me.”

“I do,” you breathed. “I promise I want to be good!”

His nails dug in to the flesh of your thighs, forcefully, his fingers gripping tight enough to leave marks. More silk wrapped around your ankles and it yanked so that you were forced into a split. It wasn’t the max limit of your flexibility, but it was enough to feel a stretching sensation in your muscles.

Without warning, he cupped you in his hand which had you bucking your hips. You were already slick and he coated his fingers, running them over you to make you even more slick while you trembled. Once he was content, he pulled away again and you grunted, restless on the bed.

“Patience, pet. I’m thinking.”

His gaze was laser focused on your sex as he stroked near your groin. He wasn’t sure whether to continue using his hands or if he should switch to his mouth. He was watering for a taste of you, but you really hadn’t earned that treat…

Oh well, he sighed. It couldn’t be helped. You needed to be taught a lesson. Besides, he knew you would look even better once you were a writhing mess.

He curled his fingers and pumped you once. Caught by surprise, you moaned lewdly, your hips canting to follow his movements.

“Here’s what’s going to happen—you’re going count every pump I give you until you get to fifteen. Then, if I want, I’ll use my mouth. Deal?”

It sounded like a trap. There was no way it wasn’t. Being stroked instead of spanked? Chase was a text book definition of a smooth talker who could sell ice to Eskimos. As good as the offer sounded, you knew it couldn’t be as easy as it seemed. Having no choice but to accept, you nodded.

He pumped again, slowly and with a tantalizing stroke at the end that had you straining against the silk bonds. And then he pressed his thumb down on a sensitive spot of nerves and made harsh, tight circles.

“One,” you gasped, lightning streaking through you. If it was that good after only one, there was no way you were get to fifteen without cumming. And that would be all the excuse he needed to deliver a harder punishment. You were definitely in trouble.

He went to touch you again when you were interrupted by a distant knock. Chase went deadly still and you turned towards the sound, still blindfolded. Another knock sounded, louder than the first time.

The restraints holding your limbs disappeared, followed quickly by the blindfold. All around, your bedroom was slipping away piece by piece and faster every second until just the bed remained. Confused, you faced Chase only to see him trembling in fury.

“Dammit,” he snarled. Then it all went blank.

Blinking your eyes, you found yourself back in the hotel room. A bit disoriented, you were awake enough to hear more knocking coming from down the hall. You heard a door open and a heated flurry of hushed whispers as the person knocking was presumably admitted into their room. The door slammed shut and then all was quiet again.

You picked up the clock from the bedside table and groaned in disappointment when it read 2:46 AM. Unfortunately, it would be while before you were able to fall back asleep now that you were wide awake. Down sides of being a particular sleeper.

And not only would you be unable to go back to sleep immediately, you were now left turned on with no boyfriend to finish you off. Your only consolation was that Chase was just as frustrated as you. Perhaps even more so.

It wasn’t often he wore his emotions clearly, especially in the bedroom, but his expletive more than gave him away, his parting snarl still echoing in your ears. He was pissed at being denied. Served him right for using his powers irresponsibly like that.

You amused yourself by imagining that he’d get so worked up, he’d call to finish what he started. A highly unlikely, but very intriguing fantasy. But then your phone lit up from where it peeked out under the covers to announce an incoming call.

You smirked in the darkness.

Looked like your fantasy might not be as unlikely as you thought.

_______________

My first time writing for Chase! Was it alright? Thanks to @dhampiravidi for agreeing that he’s a kinky one. And thanks to anyone who reads!

#the covenant #chase collins #chase collins x reader #imagines #sebastian stan #rated m for mature

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vi-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

All I've Ever Known (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Audrey Lee)

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NSFW content)

Premise: A spontaneous date night leaves Audrey questioning the future of their relationship. Set between Book 2 and 3.

Author's Note: It's been a year since I joined Choices, so I thought I'd try my hand at posting a fic. Title from Hadestown. Big thanks to @queencarb and @imaneditorthankyouverymuch for betareading!

I was alone so long

I didn't even know that I was lonely

Out in the cold so long

I didn't even know that I was cold

Turned my collar to the wind

This is how it's always been

All I've ever known is how to hold my own

__________________________________

Doctor Audrey Lee was not used to the sluggishness that once again occupied most of her days. It was not the caffeine-fueled crash she experienced after a long 16 hour shift, nor was it the unpredictable episodes of insomnia that occasionally plagued her.

Leland Bloom had opened up Edenbrook for a few weeks, before shutting it down to finish the major renovations.

As the sun hit her eyes, she felt the warm body pressed against her back tighten its grasp around her waist. For a brief moment, she relished in the warmth surrounding her. She even allowed herself to believe that she could get used to the feeling of waking up in Ethan's arms.

‘If there even is a future for us…’ Doubt whispers into her ear, poisoning the comfort she found in his embrace.

In the weeks before Edenbrook’s inevitable closing, Audrey, like many of her fellow residents, was looking for somewhere to finish her residency. She had been considering a position back home in New York. When she brought it up with Ethan, he acknowledged her response, but there was no following discussion about what that would have meant for their relationship.

Pushing the thoughts away, she settled back into his embrace. She let herself relax as the muffled sounds of the city below filled the quiet space of the bedroom.

The peace lasted all of five minutes before she began feeling restless again. Uneasiness washed over her as the image of her ripping Bloom's billion dollar check flashed in her mind. In the moment, watching the little shreds of paper sprinkling across the expensive hardwood floor of his mansion had been satisfying. Despite that, she couldn't help but wonder if it was the right move.

If she had accepted the check and handed it to Naveen, Leland would have been convinced that she was on his side. In reality, Audrey trusted him as far as she could throw the old man. Her preference was that he landed into the depths of the icy Atlantic Ocean.

Ripping the check was the right move, but it left her in the dark when it came to Leland's intentions.

Sighing to herself, she turned around in Ethan's arms and buried her face into his neck. She felt the reverberations of his pleased hum. There was no use in overthinking things now. They would deal with the repercussions soon enough.

Pressing a gentle kiss against Ethan's neck, she smiled as his eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"It is when I wake up beside you," he mumbled back, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Careful, that sounds awfully sentimental. Wouldn't want my favourite grumpy old man going soft."

Opening his eyes, he sent Audrey a half-hearted glare. The sight of Ethan Ramsey bathed in soft sunlight and his hair mussed up by her hands made her melt.

God, she could look into his eyes forever.

"I contain multitudes," he replied. "Speaking of which, this sentimental and grumpy old man wants to ask if you had plans today."

"No plans." A smirk curled across Audrey's lips as she swept some loose hairs from his face. "But if you had plans that involve us spending more time together in bed, I wouldn’t object."

"You're insatiable."

"Are you complaining?"

He grinned at her. "Not at all."

Leaning in to kiss her, Audrey's hands slid up from his shoulders into his hair. Giving the strands a short and sharp tug, Ethan groaned and bit her lower lip. Leaving a trail of kisses down the column of her neck, he lightly nibbled the skin, eliciting a soft moan from her.

He pulled the sheets away from her body and continued his path downwards. Audrey bit back another moan. Almost immediately, Ethan stopped around her navel and lifted his gaze to look into her eyes.

"I want to hear you, Rookie. Don't hold back."

As a warm hand cupped one of her breasts, his tongue lathered the other bringing her nipples to stiff peaks. This time, Audrey let the moan escape her mouth as she felt herself growing wetter. Lifting his head to lavish her other breast, he shot her a coy smile.

"Much better," he panted. Pinning her wrists against the mattress with a single hand, he slowly made his way down her body as his other hand caressed her soft skin. Swiping a finger across her folds, he groaned. "God, you're so wet for me."

The lust that filled his eyes as his face rested by the apex of her thighs made her shiver.

"Ethan, please," she whined.

When his tongue finally met her soaking cunt, Audrey let out a shaky gasp and an incoherent mumble that sounded vaguely like his name. Her hands threaded into his hair again as he let go of her wrists. Using a hand, Ethan lifted a leg over his shoulder, allowing his tongue to delve deeper. As he sucked her clit, Audrey felt herself tense up as an orgasm rippled through her body.

Once Audrey's breathing slowed, Ethan gently lowered her leg. Through her hazy vision, she noticed his lips and beard glistened in the morning light.

"Please," Audrey begged. "I need you inside of me."

"Gladly."

Pressing a deep kiss against her, she tasted herself on his lips and confirmed her earlier observation. Thankfully, his boxers had been removed last night and he hadn't bothered with putting them back on. The wetness of her first orgasm allowed the blunt head of his cock to easily slip into her throbbing cunt. Gripping onto his shoulders, Audrey panted as Ethan set a steady rhythm, his cock rubbing against her already sensitive clit. As his pace quickened, his thrusts became rougher and he bottomed out causing Audrey to gasp.

She trembled as another wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Ethan followed moments later and groaned into Audrey's neck, the reverberations of the sound causing a delicious tingle across her skin. The couple lounged in bed a little longer as they caught their breaths. Pressing a gentle kiss across her temple, Ethan cupped her face with his hands.

"I wanted to say something before we got sidetracked..." His gaze was impossibly soft as his thumb swept across her swollen bottom lip. "I'd like to take you out on a date. A proper one."

Audrey couldn't help the smile that blossomed across her face. "Really?"

He nodded. "I want the world to know the gorgeous woman beside me is taken. So, what do you say?"

"Yes," she answered. "I'd love to go on a date with you."

__________________________________

Several hours later, Audrey was back in the apartment she shared with her friends. Ethan had dropped her off in the early afternoon with a promise to pick her up at six for their date.

She was looking through her closet, searching for a particular dress she had in mind. Ethan had been tight-lipped about his plans. He had only stated it would be a black-tie event.

"Ah ha! Finally found you." She pulled the shimmering gold dress from her closet. Looking into the mirror in her room, she held the dress up to her body and smiled.

With an hour until six, Audrey jumped into the shower to freshen up. Once she finished styling her hair and applying some make-up, she slipped into the dress. Arranging the slit over her leg, she slipped into a matching pair of heels, a black shawl and grabbed the purse holding her phone.

She entered the living room to see her friends sitting on the couch arguing about what movie to watch. Sienna came from the kitchen carrying a plate of her homemade cookies and smiled at the sight of her friend dressed up.

"Audrey, you look amazing! Isn't that the dress you wore when we did our Boston bucket list?"

She grinned at the memory of what was supposed to be their last hurrah in the city. "It is, but I thought it'd be nice to wear it again for my date tonight."

"Ramsey asked you out on a date? Tonight?" Jackie asked from her spot on the couch.

Various groans filled the room as Audrey nodded.

"Finally!" Jackie exclaimed. "Everyone, pay up. You each owe me a twenty. "

Bryce sighed, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. "God damn it, Lee. Why couldn't he have waited just one more week before he asked you out?"

"Quit complaining," Aurora said, tossing a kernel of popcorn from the bowl in her lap at Bryce's head. "At least you were close, my guess was way off."

Rafael shook his head as Elijah and Aurora both handed a twenty dollar bill over to Jackie. "How did you get it down to the day?"

Jackie smiled. "I'm a psychic, obviously."

"Hold up... Just how long has this bet about Ethan and I been going on?"

"Since everyone saw you kiss at The Hopeful Hearts Gala," Elijah replied.

"And thanks to you, I'm a hundred dollars richer." Jackie pocketed the small wad of cash and leaned back against the couch.

“Thank you, Sienna,” Audrey sighed as she wrapped the black shawl around her shoulders. “My only true friend for having the decency to not partake in this bet.”

Sienna smiled sheepishly as she placed her plate of cookies on the coffee table. Before sitting down on the couch, she pulled a folded twenty dollar bill from her pocket and handed it over to Jackie.

“I’m sorry, Audrey. Raf was the only one who didn’t bet,” Sienna said. “ Dr. Ramsey and I had an interesting talk on the car ride to…” Sienna’s voice wavered slightly and she trailed off before falling silent.

On the car ride to interrogate Travis Perry about the mystery substance he had released in the hospital.

Audrey immediately crossed the room to hug Sienna. It had been months since the incident had happened, but her best friend was still grieving the loss of Danny. Sienna wrapped her arms around Audrey before she pulled back and hastily rubbed at her eyes.

“I’m okay,” Sienna reassured. “Go and enjoy your date.”

Audrey squeezed her friend’s hand in her own before she let go. “Sienna is forgiven,” Audrey declared to the others. “Thank you, Raf. My true ride-or-die.”

Rafael, who was seated beside Bryce, spoke up. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions about your personal life.”

With the most dramatic stare she could muster, she glared and pointed at the others. “The rest of you. Thin ice.”

Several knocks at the door cut off any reply that followed. Opening the door, she found Ethan standing in the doorway, dressed in his suit. His eyes lit up as he looked up at Audrey.

“You look radiant,” Ethan said.

Audrey felt herself grin. “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” she replied.

“Ready?”

“Definitely.”

“Yo, Lee!” Bryce called from the couch before she could step forward. “Just a heads up, I’m crashing on your bed tonight once movie night runs late since you won’t be using yours.”

“OKAY! We are leaving before I strangle Bryce,” Audrey announced, taking the arm Ethan offered.

Bryce laughed as she shut the door behind them. “Anyone wanna bet if she’s coming home tonight?”

__________________________________

Twenty minutes later, the pair were seated inside an elegant Italian restaurant by the waterfront. Looking out the window, Audrey watched the bright lights of the city refract against the dark surface of the water.

“I’m a city girl, but I don’t think I could live anywhere that isn’t close to the water.”

Ethan raised a brow. “Why is that?”

Audrey glanced at the gentle waves before she turned to face him. “I find it calming. It reminds me that the world is big. Bigger than any problem I might be facing. Whenever I felt stressed, I would take the subway to Manhattan and just sit in Battery Park for hours to watch the boats in the harbour or watch the people pass by.”

“I believe you called it ‘people-watching’?”

Audrey was surprised. “You still remember that conversation at Derry Roasters?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said. He reached across the table and instinctively, she placed a hand in his palm. “You said I was lost. You didn’t even know about Naveen’s condition at the time, but somehow you knew something wasn’t right.”

Unable to resist teasing him, Audrey smirked. “If I remember correctly, you said I was only half-right.”

“I stand by that assessment.” His thumb traced the ridge of her knuckles. “What baffled me was how this infuriatingly stubborn intern with the potential to be an excellent doctor kept on surprising me.”

“Speaking of surprises…” she said. “Why a date? Why now?”

The thoughts about the uncertainty of their relationship that morning came crawling to the forefront of her mind again, but she held them back. The night had only begun and as much as their undefined status worried her, she was determined to start the night on the right foot. If there truly was no future for them, she at least wanted to enjoy the time they spent together.

“Well…”

His response was cut off as a waiter came to stop at their table. “Good evening. Can I start you two off with something to drink?”

“We’re catching a show after, would you like a drink?”

“We are? I guess I’ll just have some water.”

“Two waters, please,” Ethan ordered.

The waiter nodded and laid two menus on the table. “I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders then.”

“A show?” Audrey asked. “I thought we were just getting dinner.”

The genuine enthusiasm on Audrey’s face made Ethan grin. “I promised you a proper date. That entails dinner and a show. And if you’re not too tired, perhaps a walk along the esplanade?”

“I could be persuaded. What’s the show we’re seeing?”

He shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Audrey pouted before an idea struck her. Slowly taking the black shawl off her shoulders which revealed the plunging neckline of the dress, she traced a finger down her neck to her collarbone. “Are you sure there’s no way I could convince you to tell me?” As her finger passed her collarbone, she slowed as she began to trail her finger down the exposed skin.

She felt him squeeze the hand that was still wrapped in his. “You are trying to kill me,” he replied as his gaze followed the path she traced. Gently, he lifted the hand in his and pressed a kiss to it. “As tempting as that offer is, I do believe you will appreciate the surprise.”

Sighing, she dropped the hand he wasn’t holding into her lap. “You win this time, Ramsey.”

__________________________________

As they got closer, Audrey could see the bright white marquee of the Opera House in the distance: L’Orfeo.

“The darkness of night,” Ethan translates for her. “It’s also the Italian and Spanish form of the name Orpheus.”

“As in Orpheus and Eurydice?” Audrey asked, immediately delighted.

“The very same.”

“When I had my Roman Mythology phase as a kid, I used to check out the same big book filled with various myths for months on end.” She had spent countless hours admiring the detailed illustrations and committing the words that filled the pages to her memory, carefully tracing every swooping letter with a finger. “It actually starts somewhat similarly to the first show we saw together.”

“Then tonight, I’ll rely on your expertise.” Entering the theatre, the pair made their way to his private box. They were seated for ten minutes before the house lights around them slowly dimmed and the curtain opened. On the stage, a woman dressed in red held a lyre.

“That’s the Spirit of Music. She’s saying through the power of music, she can calm any troubled heart. She introduces Orpheus of Thrace, who has the same ability as well. He’s the son of Apollo, the god of sunlight and music, and the muse Calliope, ” Audrey whispered to Ethan, their hands interlaced. As the opera progressed, Audrey explained the events of the story unfolding before them. The marriage of Orpheus and Eurydice and the tragic death of the young bride by snake bite that shortly followed. Orpheus, driven by his grief, embarking on a treacherous journey to the Underworld to bring back his lost love.

“Moved by his singing, Prosperina asks her husband, Pluto, to let Eurydice return to the living world with Orpheus. He agrees upon the condition that Orpheus has to lead Eurydice out of the Underworld, but he cannot look back to see if she is following. Orpheus begins the journey, confident that he will be reunited with Eurydice the moment they leave the Underworld, but…”

Audrey swallowed past the lump that suddenly formed in her throat.

“But then doubt comes in. He thinks Pluto is envious of his love. Maybe Pluto is tricking him.” As a sudden noise sounds from off-stage, the actor playing Orpheus turned around to face his Eurydice. His face morphed from happiness to regret in a flash as Eurydice smiled back at him sadly. “Orpheus sees Eurydice. She was behind him the whole time. She begins to fade away and Orpheus is forced out of the Underworld alone.

“This final act deviates from the myth. Apollo comes from the heavens and tells him not to fall victim to his anger and grief. He invites Orpheus to join him. Eurydice won’t be there, but beauty like hers can be found in the stars. Orpheus accepts.”

As the chorus gathered on the stage for the finale, Audrey looked away. Staring into the dark sea of audience members, she took a moment to collect her thoughts.

Building up her courage, she turned to the man beside her, but before she could say a word Ethan’s hand slipped out of her grasp. Audrey jumped slightly in her seat as the audience around them started clapping for the performance.

By the time the house lights turned on, she had lost her nerve.

__________________________________

Although autumn was right around the corner, the weather had been lovely for the past week. Despite the lack of chilly weather, Audrey held the black shawl tightly around herself as she and Ethan walked along the Charles River Esplanade.

Her eyes were drawn to the shining lights of a boat further in the distance. Audrey didn’t even notice that her steps had slowed to a stop as Ethan paused to look at her.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You haven’t said a word since we left the theatre.”

Shaking herself out of a trance, Audrey nodded and laughed, but even she could hear that it was far too hollow sounding. “I’m fine. I must be more tired than I thought.”

“I can drive you back to your apartment, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been staring at the river for so long.”

She sighed, a wry grin twisting her lips. “I shouldn’t have told you what my tell was.”

Stepping in front of her, Ethan tilted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I-it’s just…” Audrey had to close her eyes for a moment. One breath in, one breath out. The same blue eyes she had seen that morning— the ones she thought she could spend an eternity staring into—suddenly felt like a tsunami that threatened to swallow her. “Ethan, what are we doing?”

The moment she saw Ethan’s eyebrows furrow and the hurt look cross his face, Audrey groaned internally. Barely a second in and she had already stuck her foot in her own mouth. “I phrased that horribly,” she said. Placing a hand by his clenched jaw, her thumb grazed his cheek until she felt the tension he held there ease. “What I meant was, what are we? These last few weeks have been amazing. I can’t describe the happiness I feel when I wake up in your arms, but I also love those moments we just spend together whether we’re making dinner or just having a quiet night in. I don’t think I need to explain how much I enjoy the physical aspects of our relationship…”

She swallowed a shaky breath. “But if that’s all this relationship is-”

“You know it isn’t.” he immediately replied, placing his warm hand on top of hers.

Audrey shook her head. “Do I?”

“I meant every word I said. I don’t want to hide and I’m done pretending.”

“When I was considering a residency in New York, you didn’t say a word.”

“I didn’t want to influence you. I wanted you to make the best decision for your career.”

“And what would we have done? A long-distance whatever-we-are? You're Ethan Ramsey. You’re a world renowned diagnostician for Christ’s sake. You wouldn’t have any trouble finding another position in Boston,” she huffed.

Looking into her eyes, he said, “It’s simple. I would have gone with you.”

She froze. She was certain she had misheard him. “What?”

“As much as I despise idolatry among physicians,” he said. “I wouldn’t be above using my reputation to get a position in the same city.”

“But your whole life is here in Boston.”

“But you wouldn’t have been here.” Ethan cupped her face in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple and then to a tear-stained cheek. “I need you, Audrey. I know I’m not the most articulate when it comes to my emotions, but know that you’re important to me.”

The sincerity of his voice caused the tears she had been holding back to fall. Wrapped in his embrace, she let the last of her doubts drift away from the recesses of her heart.

__________________________________

All I've ever known is how to hold my own

But now I wanna hold you, too.

__________________________________

Author's Note: Originally this fic was called "Good as Gold" (also based on song lyrics) and was gonna have more smut content, but I might write that and make it a sequel to this instead. 😏

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #oph fanfiction #choices fanfiction #my writing #ethan ramsey x f!mc #audrey lee

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

joking about you

summary: four times you thought Matthew was just teasing and the one time you realized he wasn’t.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, the works

word count: 3.9k

note from the writer: I’m not in love with how the first part or so turned out but it gets better at the end? at least I hope I wrote it at 2 in the morning

Crowds were definitely not your favorite thing. Especially when the crowd involved numerous hockey players that were celebrating a win over their division rivals. Normally, you didn’t mind as much, but you were too sober to deal with what the boys were putting you through. More specifically, you were a few drinks short of being able to deal with Matthew.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, in fact, that was the whole problem. You had a massive crush on him, the kind where people who didn’t even know you wondered just how long you had been pining after one of your closest friends. Long story short, you were incredibly obvious in your affection. And it was fine, you were dealing with it, but it didn’t help that Matthew decided his favorite pastime was teasing you about your feelings.

You had excused yourself from the booth you and a few of the guys and their significant others had claimed, making your way to the bar for a refill. It was only your second drink, having promised Matthew that you would make sure he got home safe. The two of you had a rule that whenever you guys went out together, you would take turns in who would watch over the other. It was a sweet gesture, and Matthew never failed to make sure you were in your own bed by the end of the night.

“What’re you drinking? I’ll buy it.” A stranger said as he leaned against the bar counter next to you. You smiled at him, not at all interested but still grateful for the gesture.

“Uh, no thank you. But thanks for offering.” You smiled politely, and just as he opened his mouth to argue your statement a heavy weight fell over your shoulders. You would’ve jumped, but you recognized the newcomer without even having to look.

“Not interested, already on someone else’s tab.” Matthew told the guy smugly, and you rolled your eyes at his cockiness. You weren’t really one his tab, but you would’ve said you were if it got the guy to leave. It did, and you turned to Matthew with a grateful smile.

“I would’ve scared him off all by myself, you know.” You teased, smile growing wider as Matt laughed at your statement. You were anything but scary, but he didn’t comment on it. The bartender set your drink on the counter, and you took with a polite smile before turning back to Matthew.

“It’s more fun if I get to chase the guys off. Let ‘em know you’re mine.” He grinned, and your own smile faltered for a moment. You felt your cheeks flush, though you could tell from the slight slur of Matt’s words that he was a few drinks in and wouldn’t notice. You hated how easily he could make your heart skip a beat with comments like the one that he made about you being his.

“You wish.” You mumbled, brushing past Matthew and back to the table where the rest of the boys were. You slid back into your seat next to Johnny, having lost Matthew in the crowd once he spotted Noah.

“Where’s your boy off to?” Johnny teased, tapping his glass to yours in an unspoken cheers before taking a sip. You copied his actions, taking the extra moment to compose yourself enough to be able to come up with a response other than ‘he’s not my boy’ that sounded just desperate enough that if he didn’t already know how you felt, he would after.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You settled on saying, despite the fact that it sounded just as desperate and opened the door for Johnny to tease you some more. And as he opened his mouth to just that, you decided to save yourself and change the topic. “We’re still on for brunch tomorrow, right guys?”

Your question was directed to not only Johnny, but Sean and his wife, and anyone else at the table who was listening. As long they didn’t give Johnny the time he needed to poke fun at your obvious feelings, they were invited. After a few confirmations, you were dragged into conversation with one of the other guys. Before you knew it, Matthew and Noah were stumbling over to the booth, clearly had their fair share of drinks.

“Ready to go, big guy?” You teased, standing up out of the booth to prepare to leave. Matt nodded, one of his arms slung around your shoulders the moment you were out of the booth. You stumbled a bit under the weight of him, pressing your hand against his chest to try and steady him.

“You must be so excited to get to take me home.” He shot back, grinning wide with just a hint of smugness that had you rolling your eyes despite the slight blush on your cheeks.

“You wish.” You mumbled, just loud enough that the boys heard, and as you led Matthew out of the bar to wait for the Uber you had ordered, you were followed out by the sound of their hoots and cheers.

Sometimes, you really hated your friends.

As much as you loved nights out, hanging in with the boys was just as fun. With Johnny and Matthew on either side of you on the couch, you knew that you were in trouble if the moment arised. And arise, it did.

“Why did we let Chucky pick the movie?” Johnny groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch. His distress earned chuckles from the rest of the guys—them being Noah and Elias. Your snort must have caught his attention, because then he turned to you and the mischievous look in his eyes was easily recognizable. “We get you’re in love with him, but why couldn’t the rest of us tell him no?”

You wished a hole would open up underneath you and swallow you up. Your face burned bright red as you glared at Johnny, your hands fisting at your sweatshirt. The boys were all laughing, chuckling at you and you wondered just why you called them your best friends.

“What can I say, I’m irresistible.” Matt, who had been busying himself with scrolling through the movie selections, decided to pipe up. You shouldn’t have expected him to stay quiet on the subject, always looking for the chance to tease you about your feelings without doing any real harm. You knew the boys would never say anything to intentionally hurt you, but they were hockey players, and getting under someone’s skin was their specialty.

“You wish.” You muttered, though you wished that you could take it back because Matthew viewed that as a challenge and he was easily the most competitive person you knew. His grin turned wicked and he tossed the remote to Noah, deferring movie picking powers to him and his fingers easily dug into your sides. You squealed, trying to escape but he was clearly much stronger than you, and before you even knew it, he had you laying across his lap with your feet in Johnny’s as he continued to tickle you relentlessly.

“Get a room!” Elias jeered, and thankfully the comment made Matthew stop his assault. Though, if the look he was giving you was any indication of what was going to happen next, you were in trouble.

“Why don’t we?” He was wiggling his brows at you suggestively, and you gasped in shock. The boys were laughing as you shoved his shoulder, finally pulling yourself to a sitting position in your previous spot. And, okay, maybe, you would’ve loved to go get a room with Matt, but there was absolutely no way you were ever going to admit it to them—even if they already knew.

“You guys are the worst.”

iii

The house was already packed by the time you arrived, and you were too busy trying to weave your way through the crowd and look over people’s shoulders to find someone you knew that you didn’t notice Matthew approaching until you were wrapped in his arms.

“Hey, Matty.” You greeted, accepting the hug as soon as you realized who it was. You could tell he was already a few drinks in by the way he nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of your neck. You giggled at the feeling of his scruff on your skin, knowing your face was aflame at the small act of affection. You rested your hand on his chest, using it to push him away just enough that you could look up at him. “Who even are all these people?”

“I dunno. Hanny invited them.” You tried not to let it show just how much his touch was affecting you, he always got clingy like this when he drank—except, it was only with you and the guys. You had seen him on more than one occasion pestering Johnny for piggy-back rides that were never a good idea. “C’mon.”

You were going to protest, but then his hand slipped in yours, and suddenly you were being dragged halfway across the party to a pong table you hadn’t seen earlier. When you finally stopped at the edge of the table, you spotted Noah and Johnny were partners, and a pair of annoyed guys who had clearly just lost were vacating the opposite end. Matt slid into their spots, and you were given no choice but to follow after him.

Also, your mind was a bit too hazy to come up with any intelligible remark because he was still holding your hand.

“You guys actually won?” Matt chirped, earning eye rolls from his teammates standing across from him, setting the cups back up. He started to do the same, finally dropping your hand in order to move the cups back in place.

“Okay, Chucky. Wanna put some money where your mouth is?” Johnny teased, and you raised your brows. There was no way you were going to put any money down on a stupid game of beer pong, especially since you were playing with three professional athletes who all had considerable amounts of disposable income. Matthew, on the other hand, wore a grin that grew two sizes at the thought of a bet.

“Alright, what’s the wager?” He encouraged, and you pouted, partly wondering if you could get Matt to put up your side of the bet, and he did owe you gas money. Noah’s smile turned wicked and you knew you were screwed.

“If we win, you guys have to kiss.”

On second thought, you might have a twenty in your wallet you could spare for the game.

“And when we win?” Matt shot back easily, his arm slung over your shoulder to tug you into his side. Your jaw was slack, and your gaze was bouncing between Noah and Johnny and you tried to figure out just why they thought that bet would be a good idea.

“If you win, we’ll tie your skates for you for the next week.” Johnny decided, and you were going to speak and announce that you really weren’t getting anything out of this deal, but you decided that the best thing would be to probably not draw attention to yourself. Your cheeks were surely bright red, and you were rooted in your spot at the mere thought that you would kiss Matt.

“Deal.” Matt grinned, squeezing you into his side before releasing you, getting ready to play. He may have been one of the most clingy people you had ever met, but he also was the most competitive.

You really were not good at beer pong. On a good night, you could usually hold your own. But the whole bet really threw you off your game. Instead of trying to focus on sinking the ping pong ball in the red solo cup, you were too busy trying to figure out just why Matt hadn’t turned down the idea of kissing you. Besides his taunts, you figured he never saw you in any light other than the friendship role you had been stuck in.

“Are you trying to lose?” Matt teased after a particularly terrible shot by you. Johnny had to search through the crowd for the ball, and you narrowed your eyes at the curly haired boy next to you. He was grinning mischievously, and you briefly wondered if he knew just how attractive he looked—and if he was doing it just to see you squirm. “You know, if you wanted to kiss me so bad, you could just ask. You don’t have to throw the game.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You spluttered, unable to form a thought over the idea that maybe his words held a deeper meaning than just to get under your skin. Matt, sensing your annoyance, wrapped an arm around your neck and tugged you into his chest, lips coming down to press a kiss to your hairline as Johnny and Noah laughed obnoxiously at you from across the table.

You and Matt ended up winning, by way of a miracle, and for the next week Johnny and Noah were tying your shoes.

When the boys went on road trips, you got a bit of a reprieve from their teasing. These were the times when you remembered just why they were your closest friends, snapchats of them being idiots in each other’s hotel rooms or wherever they were never failing to make you laugh.

But it was also during these trips that Matthew showed his softer side, especially if they were away for longer periods of time. Currently, they were finishing their east coast trip, a week and a half of being away from home. You had received dozens of snapchats from the boys of Matthew moping around, even a video of him complaining that he missed you. He didn’t know he was being recorded, and you tried to pretend that it didn’t tug at your heartstrings.

Those updates from his teammates were why you weren’t surprised that Matt ended up calling you. It was late in Calgary, so you knew it was really late in New York where he was.

“Hey.” You mumbled into the phone. You were laying in bed, covers pulled up to your chin and already feeling the effects of sleep taking over. But if there ever was a time that you didn’t answer Matt’s calls, something surely must be wrong.

“Hey, you better not be falling asleep on me.” Matt teased, and you hated how you could practically see the grin he was no doubt sporting. Despite your racing heart—and the fact that he couldn’t see you—you rolled your eyes.

“It’s past my bedtime. Might have to call you back tomorrow.” You joked back, though you were rolling over to a more comfortable position to continue the conversation. Matt chuckled, and even though the sound was slightly distorted over the phone, was still the best thing you had ever heard.

“You love me too much, you’d stay awake for hours just to listen to me snore if I asked.” His comment was said offhandedly, and it was obviously a joke, but it struck a chord with you. You sat up in bed, comforter coming to rest around your waist as you pressed your lips into a thin line to try and compose yourself.

“Don’t… just don’t say that.” You settled, though it didn’t make much sense to you, so Matt was understandably confused. You just couldn’t handle it at the moment, the fact that your feelings were so unrequited. You knew it, but he didn’t have to throw it in your face.

“What? That you love me? ‘Cause I know you do.” His tone was somewhere between puzzled and teasing. You squeezed your eyes shut, drawing your knees to your chest as you felt a lump form in your throat.

“Can you stop fucking joking about my feelings? I get that you don’t feel the same, but lay off for a minute, please.” The last thing you wanted was to cry on the phone with him, but about halfway through your first sentence your voice tightened and when you hit the plea, it cracked. You heard Matthew suck in a breath at the sound, and you wondered if you took it a step too far.

But you also knew this was a conversation you needed to have. You were done just sitting by and letting him tease and poke fun at how flustered you’d get around just because you were harboring feelings for him. He hadn’t done anything inherently wrong, but you just needed him to know how it was affecting you.

You were brought back to the moment by Matthew mumbling your name softly, and you bit your lip at how easily it slipped past his lips. How right it felt for him to be saying your name in the gentle way he did. You knew he was thinking of what to say next, probably some elaborate way to let you down easily while still preserving your friendship. And nothing seemed worse than hearing him feed you some lines about how you could still be friends and that it wouldn’t be awkward next time you hung out—it would, and you knew that. And once more, despite knowing he couldn’t see you, you shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose in a desperate bid to keep the tears at bay.

“Goodnight, Matthew. I’ll see you when you guys get back, I guess.”

You hated to admit it, but you were ignoring not only Matt’s texts, but also the messages from his teammates. It was only the day after you blew up, hanging up on him before he got a chance to explain himself, but you were already feeling the effects of losing one of your closest friends.

A knock on your front door startled you, you weren’t expecting anyone and when you looked through the peephole, you felt a heavy weight settle in your stomach. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but his plane had landed only half an hour ago—you had assumed you’d at least get a few days respite before one of the boys showed up and made you face the consequences of your actions.

Swinging your door open, the curly haired boy wasted no time in slipping past you and into your apartment, shedding his coat and dropping his keys beside yours on the small table you had by the door. Your stomach twisted at how domestic it felt, him coming home to you after his latest roadie.

“Why the fuck don’t I have a key to your apartment?” Matt asked, finally speaking. He had made it a few steps inside before turning to face you with a genuinely confused expression. You were so caught off guard, because that was certainly not what you thought he’d ask you first, that you answered genuinely with the first thing that came to mind.

“Why the fuck would you?” At your response, Matt’s puzzled pout turned to a grin. You wondered if he just wasn’t going to bring up what had transpired over the phone the previous night. You were already falling back into your typical back and forth, but like usual, you weren’t so lucky.

“Because people who are in love have keys to the other’s apartments.” Matt explained easily, like he always did, and you brushed past him. You weren’t sure where you were headed exactly, but you really didn’t need to be around him when he refused to acknowledge the fact that you were upset by his teasing. “Or not. Maybe we could move in with each other.” He had followed you, the kitchen is where you ended up and you braced yourself against the counter, back to him.

“Can you please stop joking? Just leave, if you can’t help yourself.” You snapped, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the edge of the countertop.

“I’m not leaving, and I don’t know why you keep thinking I’m joking.” Matt’s tone was devoid of any of his usual teasing, only seriousness evident in his tone. Your shoulders slouched at his comment, and you slowly turned to find him standing just a few inches away from you. One of his hands fell to the counter beside you, the other reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers ghosting down the side of your jaw until he was tilting your chin up towards him with his index and thumb. “You’ve never been a joke to me.”

And then his lips were on yours, and you felt every longing look shared, unnecessary touch, and forehead kisses that were simply his way of convery how he felt. You would get flustered, he would want to pull you into his lap and make jokes about how you belonged there—because to him, you did. Every comment you thought was a jab at how you felt was just Matt trying to get you to realize how he felt.

It was so goddamn annoying, and so Matthew, that you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss.

“What? I’m not that bad at kissing, am I?” Matt grinned as he pulled away just enough to look at you. You rolled your eyes, Matt was a fantastic kisser and he knew it, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“You couldn’t have just told me that you like me, you just had to go and tease me every chance you got, huh?” Your hands, at some point that you don’t really remember, had found their way around his neck and were threaded in the curls on the back of his head. The grin he wore was devastatingly handsome, and you easily gave him the kiss he ducked down towards you in search of.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” He muttered against your lips, kissing you after the end of his sentence. “I wanted to see how long it took before you admitted that you like me.” Another kiss. You tilted your head back and laughed at the absurdity of it all, how not even two minutes earlier you were ready to kick him out of your apartment and now you were certain you were going to die if he even thought about leaving.

“Bet that didn’t go as planned. You know, me hanging up on you, one comment away from crying.” You teased, and a look of regret flashed in his eyes that had his smile melting off of his face. His hands moved to your waist, as if keeping you in place so you couldn’t run, not that you would.

“I made you cry?” He sounded so devastated by your confession, fingers flexing against you as he squeezed your hips. You reached up, cupping his face and absolutely melting at the way he leaned into your touch. Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, and he softened a bit.

“Don’t worry, Matty. It’s fine.” He didn’t seem convinced, and you leaned up onto your tip-toes to peck his lips once more. “I know a few ways you could make it up to me.” You pressed a kiss to his jaw, giggling when he nodded his head emphatically like a little kid. His mischievous grin was back, and you decided then and there you would spend the rest of your life trying to get him to smile.

“Lead the way.”

#matthew tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk x reader #Matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #NHL imagine

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

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Rewatching Shameless and i just watched 6x1 jail scene. Can I request a meta if its not too much trouble? I feel like reading a really good meta about that scene and you're one of the best we've got so.....

It’s never any trouble at all! That’s so sweet to say—thank you so much! <3 Kind of coming to terms with the idea that anyone cares about my opinion over here. You guys are too much!

This scene is actually extremely important to me because it and the response to it were what made me start writing Shameless fanfiction, specifically when I saw that my views regarding Ian’s behavior and how Mickey received it were so vastly different from what I initially read. (Insert shameless plug for “That Milkovich Reputation” here.) Now, I know you’ve told me not to do this before, but based on the controversial position in which this scene resides, I feel the need to present a couple of disclaimers for our audience at large.

I first fell in love with Shameless last March, a couple weeks before quarantine began. I didn’t know what it was prior to that and therefore was not present when Noel left the show, so I didn’t experience the disappointment of a beloved character leaving in a potentially permanent way and didn’t engage in the fandom or see how deeply upset people were by that until after I finished the series. I also don’t subscribe to the theory that there was something going on behind the scenes or any animosity between Noel and the creators, as I have not seen any relevant evidence from reliable sources to support that what happened was anything other than decisions made in pursuit of career goals on both sides. As such, my analysis of this scene has only ever taken the content and context of the story and characters into account. I have no interest in speculating on the motives of people I do not know in writing it or portraying it this way, and even if I did, this scene made perfect sense to me as it was written and performed.

I understand and appreciate that this is not a popular position to take and urge everyone to pass this post by if my position on that matter is offensive or upsetting to you. I do not mean to tell anyone what to think or believe, only to explain how I view this scene and the context in which I do so.

That said, let’s begin.

When Last Seen: Mickey

As in all things, context is important. Prior to the prison scene, the last time we saw Mickey was when Ian broke up with him and Sammi interrupted their heartfelt moment, which basically sums up her character in a nutshell. That was a rough couple of days for Mickey. He saw how devastated Ian was to hear his family talk about him as though he were just like Monica; was distressed in his own right to return for him and discover that he’d left the base with Monica; buried his frustration and sadness by sleeping around with other people, which seemed to exacerbate those emotions because those people weren’t Ian, nor had he and Ian broken up when he did it; and came running when Ian called him, only for Ian to end their relationship.

Mickey is a very sharp man—we know this. He can read people like books and manipulate or intimidate them accordingly. He knew Ian had feelings for him in s1 when he showed up on his doorstep seeking comfort rather than going to any number of other people he trusted. He was well aware that Ian loved him in s3, and that made what he felt he had no choice in doing that much more painful. He heard what Ian said and knew what he was doing in 5x12. Of that, I have never had any doubt. It wasn’t like Ian tried to hide that he didn’t want to break up but thought that that was what would be best. In fact, the way he initially framed it always made me think that one of his highest priorities was not dragging Mickey down with him, especially in the aftermath of being called “destructive” and similar to someone who “put them through hell.” That’s why Mickey’s response wasn’t to call him an asshole or get angry or beg. It was to reassure Ian that he was there for the long haul, that he loved him and wanted to take care of him no matter what that meant—and that they could make that work. All the sentiments Ian had tried to communicate before he got married, Mickey was reciprocating in his own way. Had they not needed to temporarily write Mickey out of the story and Sammi hadn’t shown up right that second, I believe that he wouldn’t have given up so easily. We do have confirmation of that being the case in the prison scene, but we’ll get to that shortly.

When Last Seen: Ian

Ian isn’t a selfish character. We know this, too. However, Ian needed to be selfish by the end of s5. What he had to come to terms with wasn’t something that anyone could fully help him with, much as Mickey desperately wanted to. To Ian, the enemy was within. It was inside him, in his brain, telling him what to do even if that destroyed himself and everything he loved. It’s terrifying. I’m not bipolar, nor do I suffer from any other diagnosed mental illnesses, but I admire and respect everyone who wakes up every morning and tackles these things. They’re heroes every single day. But by the end of s5, Ian doesn’t feel much like a hero. Instead, he feels like the villain, and he’s lost touch with who he even is anymore.

That’s not a healthy mindset to have in a relationship. Relationships require a level of give and take, and that used to be something that Ian and Mickey already struggled with. Ian gave more in s1-3 because he was able to, while Mickey had a limit on what he could openly give because of the environment in which he lived and the manner in which he was raised. In s4-5, those roles were reversed: Mickey was able to give so much more, but Ian was gradually falling apart. Neither of them are at fault for any of those situations. It is what it is, and they have a stronger relationship for it. Ian is a giver, though. He’s always been a giver. To be in a position where he doesn’t feel like he can give anything to Mickey because he doesn’t even know who he is was truly heartbreaking for him, and objectively, he needed to take a step back so that he could focus on himself. He knew it. Based on Mickey’s understanding of Ian’s reasons after watching him deny that he had a problem for so long, I think Mickey knew it too. This hurt both of them—Ian to say it and Mickey to hear it—but they’re not fools and they’re not naïve. In some ways, they know each other better than anyone.

Jimmy said that when you’re on a plane, they tell you to put on your mask before you help anyone else with theirs. Ian needed to put on his mask. His heart can’t keep beating if his lungs don’t work.

Starting Season 6: Mickey

Unsurprisingly, Mickey has settled into prison life just fine. We’ll focus on his interactions with Ian in a bit as that’s the meat of the scene, but there are major implications inherent in his discussion with Svetlana beforehand.

1. Mickey has accepted that this will be his reality for the foreseeable future. What else is he supposed to do? Besides, he’s known for a long time that the likelihood of ending up in prison was pretty high for him, as he alluded to in s2. He was a street thug. He stole from local stores, sold drugs, ran guns, operated a rub ‘n’ tug, created scam companies, and was a generally violent presence in the neighborhood for years. He was in juvie twice during the show, perhaps more beforehand. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that it would have been more surprising if Mickey didn’t get locked up at some point than that he did.

2. Ian has visited Mickey before. We won’t get too deeply into this yet, but he thanks Ian for “coming back.” The other times, he wasn’t even paid to do it. So, as far as Mickey can tell, nothing has changed. Ian is focusing on himself right now, but his love for Mickey hasn’t dulled at all. That’s an encouraging thought, and it certainly puts a smile on Mickey’s face.

3. Ever the opportunist and entrepreneur, Mickey really is doing just fine in prison. He runs a business, if you will, that appears to be quite lucrative already. This isn’t surprising either. Sadly, it’s a bad move. He’s already going to be in prison for somewhere around a decade, give or take a couple of years depending on his behavior. But his behavior isn’t good. He’s hurting people for money, and if he gets caught and brought up on more charges, not only will he serve the full fifteen years, but he could get more time added onto that.

4. Ian is aware of this arrangement. He has to be if he’s been going there with Svetlana, and they weren’t exactly hiding what they were talking about. Ian has been very consistent throughout the series: he’s not as concerned with the moral implications of Mickey’s behavior, just how it could potentially impact their ability to be together. He still cares about Mickey at the start of s6, and Mickey can see it on his face when he won’t say it out loud. (More on that shortly.) Once he’s in a better spot mentally, maybe they would have gotten back together had Mickey been on the outside. I’m of the opinion that they would have based on the context of the situation. It isn’t an option, however. This is Mickey’s reality, and he’s not doing everything he can to get out earlier. If anything, he’s tempting fate on not being released at all. (This, in hindsight, sounds rather similar to the issues they’re dealing with right now in s11.)

So, this is where Mickey stands at the start of the season: a prison hitman who is quite pleased that the man he loves has come to see him again, even if the latter is visibly not in a very healthy mental state.

Starting Season 6: Ian

Ian isn’t in most of 6x01. What we do see of him is typically sad or colored by his frustration, outside Carl’s welcome home party at the end of the episode. Even then, there’s an aura of discomfort that accompanies the family’s knowledge that things have changed. Carl came out of juvie a different person—they’re all different people after s5, and they’re not sure how to handle walking on eggshells around each other.

From the very start of the episode, we see that Ian is still struggling even though he’s had enough time to at least partially adjust to his medication, especially if he’s been on and off of it. It’s so sweet how Fiona gently wakes him up—it’s also a bit different. What happened to banging on the bunk bed and yelling for them to come down for breakfast? After behaving pretty normally with Debbie at the bathroom door, she’s almost handling him with kid gloves, and the punches keep coming when she reminds him that he (1) has to get up for work at a place he despises and (2) needs to remember to take his meds.

The kitchen scene is extremely telling of where Ian is at this point, and it partially shows why he’s somewhat standoffish by the time we reach the prison scene. Most of the family is gone or different. Fiona is repeatedly on him about meds and getting to work on time—Ian, Mister Responsible himself who was out of the house before anybody woke up to get to work on time as a kid. Lip is at college. Debbie is absorbed in her unconfirmed but likely pregnancy. Carl is in juvie, and Liam is playing with the switchblade he found under Carl’s pillow before they take him to pre-K. His entire support system is either gone or treating him like he’s broken. All he has is Fiona “going Fiona” on everyone. It’s clear that this is impacting him because he actually derails the conversation to say that they should go visit Carl the following weekend, which was the position Debbie used to be in when Fiona was in jail. Just like Lip shut her down, Debbie shuts Ian down, and he doesn’t say another word as he drinks his coffee—which he can’t finish because Fiona is once again on him about work, so he trudges out the door to another day of being a busboy with no dreams instead of a soldier who has a future.

Work isn’t much better. Svetlana wants him to go see Mickey when he’s determined to stay away. (We don’t have confirmation, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that he wants to distance himself if Mickey is doing something that will potentially get him into even more trouble, especially given some of his reactions at the prison.) Sean is sending Fiona to nag him about not moving fast enough when the diner isn’t even busy. When Otis is chased down by the cops and slammed against the front window, Sean rather condescendingly tells him to, “take your rag and wipe the blood and snot off the window.” Ian—West Point-aspiring, ambitious, courageous, caring, intelligent, hardworking Ian has been reduced to wiping up someone’s snot by a boss who’s living in his house with a sister that’s treating him like he’s shattered glass and a family that is growing further and further apart these days.

That is the day Ian has had before he even arrives at the prison. Odds are that that is how most of his days have gone for quite some time, minus the blood and snot. …Maybe.

The Prison Scene

Now we come to it: what you actually asked about! It’s taken this long to get here because we can’t possibly interpret this scene effectively without incorporating all of what came before it. Mickey’s position is regrettable, but he knows that Ian still loves him and is at least handling his situation with all the grace and competence that we can expect from him. Ian is a bit of a mess who’s had a bad day and is now faced with the man he loves, who he is telling himself he can’t be with, sitting behind glass—where he’ll be for a good long while.

I’m going to divide this analysis into two sections. For a scene that many prefer to forget, to me, it’s a masterpiece of storytelling.

Physicality

The body language in this scene is remarkable—phenomenally blocked, phenomenally directed, and phenomenally portrayed.

When Mickey first appears, he’s visibly chomping at the bit to get to the visitation area. He’s peering out there while he’s still behind a locked door, and he only diverts his gaze to the guard because he’s waiting for him to unlock it. He’s cool about the whole thing—he’s very cool—but he’s obviously also here for one reason and one reason only. That reason is where his eyes go the moment he sits down at his stall and spots Ian’s coat where the latter is pacing behind Svetlana. Throughout their entire conversation, we see his eyes darting to Ian as he attempts to get the business out of the way so that he can indulge purely in the pleasure. It doesn’t matter to him that Ian is visibly tired and reluctant to be there or that he plays with Yevgeny instead of actively joining their conversation. It’s Ian, and all Mickey has to look at in here is a bunch of fellow thugs he hasn’t loved since he was too young to know what that meant. Damn right, he’s going to shamelessly watch him.

In Ian’s pacing, where we can’t see his face, I find it interesting that he keeps himself angled away from the glass. We see more of his back even though he’s moving side to side rather than away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to be there. In s7, he told Mickey how hard it was to see him behind glass—that wasn’t an excuse. He wasn’t falsely trying to make it sound like he was suffering at their separation just as much as Mickey was. We can see that that’s the case right here in 6x01. Ian has never had a problem sitting still through difficult moments, not even when a potential court martial that would further ruin his life was on the table. But this? He can’t sit down. He can’t face that.

The first time he turns directly towards Mickey’s location is so that Svetlana can hand Yevgeny off to him, and Mickey is visibly loving the view. His expression gets a bit softer, and he ducks his head a little so that he can catch a glimpse of Ian’s face. He follows Ian with his eyes even though Svetlana tries to get his attention. What a blast from the past, right? Ian there with his son, taking care of him while he and Svetlana figure out their business? And just like before, he offers Svetlana all of the attention and input that he deems her worth—next to nothing. Ian’s over there. Ian’s keeping the kid entertained, playing with him and rocking a bit in their seat and leaning over his little shoulder to make sure he’s doing okay—but forget that, Mickey’s eyes are examining him from red hair to beat-up shoes. He only glances back to Svetlana because he has to in order to get the information for their next paycheck. Even then, he’s still back and forth, up and down.

And Ian? He can’t keep pacing. He can’t stay turned away, but he won’t look. He occupies himself more than Yevgeny because now he’s low enough that he won’t just see an orange jumpsuit—he’ll see Mickey, and he’s had a bad enough day with his family making him feel more alone than ever without adding that pain on top of it. (This is the third time Mickey’s been locked up for something directly or indirectly related to Ian. I’m sure it’s not unreasonable to suspect that he also feels somewhat guilty about that, especially when it happened right after he broke it off.)

When Mickey asks if Ian is going to sit back there the whole time and not interact with him, Svetlana turns around and presumably says something to get his attention. Their eyes meet, and Mickey gives him a look that clearly says, “What the fuck, man?” This isn’t the behavior of a man who is heartbroken at their relationship ending or questioning Ian’s love for him. This is the behavior of a man who wants the love of his life to get his shit together enough to come say hi to him—or at least look at him—because he can’t pretend that he doesn’t want to see Mickey as much as Mickey wants to see him. It’s impossible to hide that when Ian has let Mickey see so much of his heart over the years.

Ian’s response is so fascinating because he does meet Mickey’s eyes, and he holds that connection for a moment. Then, reading what Mickey is trying to tell him, he actually turns further away again so that Mickey gets his shoulder. This sets the stage for the rest of Ian’s development from now through s9. He’s doing what Ian does: he’s compartmentalizing. He’s taking the emotions he can’t deal with right now, wrapping them in tissue paper, and neatly stacking them in a box that he’ll put up in the attic where he can pretend they don’t exist. But they do. They really do.

If they didn’t, he wouldn’t have spent their entire conversation trying so hard to focus on literally anything but Mickey, because as we saw in the Hall of Shame flashbacks and as has been obvious since their first fight-turned-fuck, once they look, the battle is lost.

Dialogue

I’m going to be real with you guys: I adore this scene. I’ve watched it more times than I can count even though I haven’t rewatched much of the season in its entirety. There was so much said with so few words, and while I was sad at the end, I was also hopeful. This was an impossible position to be put in on both sides, and I truly believe that this was the best resolution they could get at the time. And yes, it hurt. It was painful. But why was it painful?

Because they’re so visibly, obviously, irrevocably in love.

Mickey’s tone when he tells Svetlana to leave because he wants to talk to Ian isn’t as harsh as it’s been for the rest of their visit. There’s such a disconnect between his words and tone: roughly telling her to scram while actually sounding a bit younger at the idea of speaking directly with Ian. Svetlana could tell. It’s so clear, and her smirk is super knowing. In that moment, we’re seeing the woman who stood in the doorway of what was supposed to be her bedroom and watched him make eyes at this unconscious boy she didn’t really even remember. Not in the tears and realizing she was in big, big trouble if he left her, but in the understanding that his heart isn’t in the body on the other side of the glass—it’s sitting behind her. There are a lot of things I don’t like about Svetlana as a person (as a character, she’s amazing), but since they reached their agreement in s4, she’s never had a derogatory thing to say about the love those two share, and I respect that. It’s actually a bit cute how she takes her time and is almost teasing in giving him what he wants. A bit.

As I have this scene running on repeat so that I don’t miss anything in writing this, I paused to type and ended up on such a meaningful glance at Ian’s face. Svetlana just took Yevgeny from him, and he hasn’t gotten up yet. He’s staring straight at Mickey, and he looks hesitant. Scared, almost. Then he looks up at Svetlana, nods a bit, and reluctantly moves into her spot.

Is it overkill to take this one exchange at a time? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway? Hell to the yes.

1. “Thanks for coming back.”/”Yeah… Svetlana paid me.” – I know that people hate this line and think this is painful. I know that it objectively is painful. I still laugh every time. Not because Ian agreed to come if he was paid. (He’s got medication to afford and no insurance. I can’t begrudge him wanting to make a few extra bucks any way he can.) Not because of the words, but because of what accompanies them. Ian will not look at Mickey—he’s lost so many battles lately, and he can’t lose this one too. Not when he started this one himself. He’s hemming and hawing, not looking up from the countertop and then twisting around to see if Svetlana is still there or anyone else is listening. It’s so stupid, because literally no one cares, but it gives you this sensation that Ian sees himself as being under a microscope the whole time. That’s his life anymore, at home and at work and now here. And Mickey? He doesn’t look terribly broken up about Ian accepting payment in exchange for coming. He gets this expression that I interpreted as, “Seriously? You’re playing it like that?” Then it settles into disappointment that Ian won’t open up or look at him like he normally would—that the glass interferes with the magnetic pull between them. But don’t worry, children. Uncle Mickey has just the thing to fix that: himself.

2. “You look good.”/*awkward silence* – I mean…what do you say to that? I actually felt so bad for Ian there because what must he have looked like these last visits if Mickey is telling him that he looks good now? What kind of mess was he then when he’s still sort of a mess today? And he can’t even return the sentiment because how can he? Mickey is in prison. He’s in a jumpsuit looking at being here so long that he’ll probably have a few grey hairs starting to grow in when he gets out. I don’t know how to respond when people tell me I look good on an average day, so I can only imagine how that must have felt in his position. And still, he won’t do more than glance in Mickey’s direction. Well, if that didn’t work…

3. Mickey chuckles and says he got a new tattoo. Ian’s eyes immediately shoot upwards, and Mickey slouches a little so that he’s in their direct line of sight—to hold them there, because once they look, the battle is lost. And Ian does lose. For a while there, he can’t look away again. First, because Mickey is courting some pretty nasty illnesses with his improper use of needles. Seriously, Mickey, a beautiful gesture but holy crap. Second, Mickey has his name (or a very close approximation to it) tattooed forever right over his heart. Ian had asked if Mickey was going to marry him, and Mickey told him to fuck off, but everything he’s doing points in the opposite direction. He promised sickness and health; now he’s made a permanent mark on his body for everyone to see. Mickey, who wouldn’t be seen in public with him once upon a time, has plastered Ian’s name onto his body. Ian tries so hard not to let that impact him, but it’s over. He’s lost the battle already, and he falls further and further. He’s smiling when he tells Mickey it looks infected, he teases him about the misspelling (which I think says more about how much that tattoo must have hurt than any inability to spell on Mickey’s part—I’d have a typo too), and he laughs at Mickey’s irritation that he messed it up. And it’s this sweet little laugh, not cruel or hurtful or mean. The wonderful thing about humor is that it can be used to cope with difficult emotions. We’ve seen a lot of people on the show start laughing when they’re in a bad place. Ian has been trying so hard to accept his life as it is even during the shitty day he was having. He tried so hard not to let himself fall into the trap of letting his love for Mickey rule his actions in the scene so far. That’s a lot. That’s denying himself to the point where I’m sure it hurts. And so he laughs, because Mickey did this crazy, absurd thing for him and yeah, it came out wrong, but he did it. This was all Ian wanted once upon a time (minus the felony), and now he has it—but he can’t have it. So he laughs. He immediately moves to hide it, but he laughs. He smiles more and has to bend away to pretend that he’s not—and Mickey lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. This is the moment that keeps me from seeing this scene or Ian’s actions as being cruel. They’re both hurting, and this is an awful position to be in. But Ian loves him so much, and Mickey was doing everything he could to make him show it. Not exactly how he saw that going, I’m sure, but he’ll take it.

4. “Been thinking about you.” – Knowing that he lost that one, Ian looks away again. While the end of this scene will hurt for both of them, especially Mickey, think about the pain he must be feeling in that moment simply because he’s not. He’s not hurting. For the first time that day, he feels good. This can’t last. Mickey isn’t coming home with him when time is up. This wonderful emotion that filled him up enough for him to laugh and smile after such a bad day will be gone the second he hangs up that phone. Then he’s going to go home and have Fiona breathing down his neck with nobody else for support. And Mickey will be here—behind glass. He can’t handle that, and he pulls that box out again and starts tearing off the tissue paper. He has to get rid of this feeling. He has to be the one to put it away before it kicks him to the curb. He’s stubborn, and Mickey can see him shutting down but also knows that he’s knocked enough bricks out of Ian’s walls to say something softer, something emotional and closer to the heart. Something he is willing to say where the other inmates can hear, which I don’t think is lost on Ian since he immediately looks up again. He doesn’t look away either, not even when Mickey asks if Ian thinks about him. He glances to the side and opens his mouth a bit, but nothing comes out. Mickey knows the answer.

5. “Gonna wait for me?”/”You’re here for fifteen years.” – There’s this thing Mickey does after he first says that. He chuckles, because he knows that that’s pretty unreasonable to ask and has already predicted Ian’s response. His comment about being out in eight is lighthearted, a serious matter spoken as a joke because…this isn’t juvie anymore. They’re not going to see each other in a few months. This is Mickey’s version of what Ian was just doing, only where Ian tried to withdraw and escape within himself, Mickey is making it more humorous. He’s always done that, make light of pretty serious things to avoid looking at just how messed up it is. But I didn’t get the feeling he was really asking for Ian to wait that long. Instead, I got the feeling that he was testing the waters, seeing if Ian would shut him down—which he didn’t. He offered the bullshit excuse that Mickey tried to kill a member of his family, and Mickey saw through that immediately. I think he knows that he can’t ask Ian to seriously wait and never be with anyone else for fifteen years, or even for eight. I think he knows what he’s saying is a touch absurd. He also knows that Ian’s excuse is extremely absurd, and he doesn’t buy it for a second. It gives him a little courage to do something…well, a bit absurd.

6. “Will you? Wait? Fucking lie if you have to, man. Eight years is a long time.” – I think the important part of this isn’t that Ian says he’ll wait when he doesn’t mean it, which is the popular take. For one thing, I don’t think we can ascribe that level of calculated behavior to Ian in this instance. There are a few things about this part of the scene that mean a lot to me: (1) Ian doesn’t get up and go. He doesn’t even move in that direction. He sits there with the phone after the buzzer sounds and before Mickey tells him to lie. His mouth opens and closes like he’s not sure what to say. Because what can he say? If Mickey serves the maximum, Ian will be in his mid-thirties by the time they can be together. At that point, he was either nearing eighteen or just turned. I still can’t fathom what I’ll be doing in my mid-thirties, and I’m a whole lot older than that. Ian looks just a little terrified here, and that’s because he knows he loves Mickey but has no clue what he’s supposed to do with that in the impossible circumstances they’re operating under. (2) Ian can’t even see himself moving on yet. He’s still trying to figure himself out, not think about a relationship. He has a job he hates, and his family is a different brand of chaos these days. He feels alone, yes, but not in a way that has him openly desperate for a relationship. Based on what he says to Mandy about Caleb, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in a serious relationship at this point or even in a position for more than casual sex anytime in the near future. How can he say that he’ll wait when he doesn’t know where he’ll be whenever Mickey does get out? Maybe he’ll feel better. Maybe he’ll be out of his mind, roaming all over the place like Monica. Maybe he won’t just be standing on that bridge. It’s a huge question, one that has a lot of ramifications no matter what his answer is, and Ian clearly has none. He’s blindsided by that, which Mickey sees. That’s when he gets serious about those eight years, about how absurd their situation really is. That’s perhaps the first and only time in this scene where we can see that, for as successful as he is at navigating prison, his freedom means something to him. His freedom means he wouldn’t have to coax a glance out of Ian—he could kiss his dumb ass and make him stop being stubborn about how much he loves Mickey. But he can’t. He won’t be able to for a long time. And I think that is what really breaks his heart in this scene, not…

7. “Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I’ll wait.” – Did anyone else notice how Ian swallowed hard before he answered? How his voice gets hoarse when he first speaks? I paused again to type, and the video is sitting on his face staring at the counter before the second part of what he says. He looks like he might cry. He looks like his heart is breaking just as much as Mickey’s is, because he can do what he’s asking this time—reassure him with a lie. Not because he doesn’t intend to wait, but because he is buried so far under what life has piled on top of him that he can’t see the light these days, and he doesn’t see waiting or moving on. He just sees the daily struggle of being this shell of a person. Of being without Mickey even if they’re not technically together. (Admittedly, I think he knew they would be if Mickey weren’t in prison at that moment. Ian has no real self-control where he’s concerned. Lip told him as much, and he’s self-aware enough to realize it, hence his behavior in this whole scene.)

When Ian hangs up the phone, he doesn’t get up immediately. He looks at Mickey—really looks at him—and each of them watches the other’s heart shatter. I don’t see it the way a lot of people do, though. On Mickey’s side, I don’t see it as being because Ian lied. I think it’s so much bigger than that.

Ian looks at him when they can’t hear each other anymore, and if he didn’t seem ready to cry before, he looks it now. Why? Because there’s nothing he can do for Mickey besides that. Ian, ever the giver, can’t give him anything. At that point, he couldn’t even help himself. He can’t be what Mickey needs in that moment, just like he couldn’t be what Mickey needed while he was sick, and it kills him. It kills him to know that by the time Mickey does get out, he’ll be older than he can fathom being and has no idea if he’ll even be around that long. It kills him to feel like even if he is, he’ll still have nothing to offer because, in his own words, this is where he lands. And it kills him to have to walk away and leave what he loves most behind glass.

Mickey is watching this. He knows Ian, and as painful as it was to get exactly what he asked for, it’s even more painful for him to see what him being here does to Ian. Where Ian is a giver, Mickey is a fixer. He makes things better. When stuff is broken, he puts it back together. When there’s a problem, he resolves it. Ian was going to leave because he couldn’t be an unacknowledged number three in Mickey’s life anymore? He jumped to solve the problem by coming out. Ian was acting strangely and wouldn’t get out of bed for so long that Mickey realized something was wrong? He immediately went to hunt down Lip, who he knows is closer to Ian than anyone else in his family. Fiona tells him that Ian is sick and needs to be cared for? He jumps in to do it, even to the point where it did more harm than good. Sammi caused a problem that Mickey couldn’t solve? He fixed the problem of her being there at all. But here he sits, behind glass, watching Ian that whole time and knowing that he was trying to maintain some emotional distance—and, because it’s Mickey, knowing why. There’s nothing he can do about this. He can’t fix it. For the first time since s3, Mickey is absolutely helpless to fix a problem. He takes a breath as Ian walks away as though he’s about to say something, but what can he say? What can he do? Nothing. He can do nothing but hang up the phone and weather the storm.

In the end, the heartbreak in this scene isn’t about them hurting each other, from my perspective. It’s not about Ian being callous and cruel or purposely trying to hurt Mickey. They know each other too well for that. They’ve been through too much. To me, this is about two people who love each other more than anything not being able to be what the other needed when they needed them—and that’s a whole lot more painful.

#shameless meta #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2

- Chapter 3 -

It seemed, to Meng Yao’s surprise, that there were in fact people like that; it was only that they were all apparently surnamed Nie and lived hidden away in a fortress deep in Qinghe, probably for the good of society.

Sect Leader Nie – known fondly to one and all as Lao Nie, an informality he encouraged – was at least more thoughtful than his son, insisting on a number of tests before he’d accept the child was his, which as a bit more in line with Meng Yao’s expectations. But even before the doctors had been called to check Meng Shi’s pulse he had already been listening without recrimination to Nie Mingjue’s excited plans about where they would stay and where the child’s room would be, and had only the mildest of criticism regarding his son’s decision to sell all his things to buy a Yunping whore to bring back to Qinghe.

The Nie clan, Meng Yao decided, were weird.

But not in a bad way – when the doctors confirmed that the date of conception was around the right time and that the child would more-likely-than-not have a gift for cultivation that his mother lacked, Lao Nie nodded and permitted Meng Shi to cross his threshold as an official concubine.

Not even a mistress! Official!

Sure, Lao Nie could divorce her if he wanted, but the mere act of marriage gave Meng Shi – and by extension, Meng Yao – security that they’d never had before, the right to many things they’d never had before: a solid foundation in the world for him, a married woman’s hairstyle and a place to be buried for her.

Meng Yao had worried at first that he would be reviled by Nie Mingjue’s mother as a bastard at best - a concubine’s baggage from before the marriage, infringing where he should not be; there were a thousand stories describing exactly what legitimate wives thought about people like that - but it didn’t take long for him to see that there was no other woman in Lao Nie’s life, excluding only his second-in-command who already had a wife of her own.

“Your mother died?” Meng Yao asked Nie Mingjue, his mind already spinning with the possibilities – having Meng Shi get officially named first wife was probably out of the question, since that would start gossip regarding the possibility of disinheriting Nie Mingjue, but if his mother could fill the position even a little, then maybe in the future…

“She’s gone,” Nie Mingjue corrected, and it took a while before Meng Yao understood that Nie Mingjue meant gone as in vanished or missing, not as in dead. According to the gossip, his mother was either a goddess or a rogue cultivator, but either way she hadn’t stayed much longer than a year or two past the time of her marriage to Lao Nie, with Nie Mingjue having been left to more or less raise himself ever since.

No wonder Nie Mingjue was such an open-minded idiot, believing in airy principles rather than rock-solid reality, Meng Yao thought, heart flush with fondness. He’d never had a mother to teach him any tricks.

Not that Meng Yao minded. On the contrary, he appreciated the benefits of that open-mindedness: for the first time in his life he had robes made of sturdy and comfortable material, finer than anything he’d owned before, with proper shoes made to fit him; he had teachers in all the subjects a gentleman should know, as much meat as he could ever want to eat, and even a room of his own, with a proper bed and a lock on the inside. All the things he’d ever envied in others were now suddenly within his grasp.

It was heady stuff.

Meng Yao was happy.

And then he went to his mother’s rooms after the first week to tell her of his adventures and saw her contemplating the crib in the side of the nursing room with a neutral expression that might as well be a frown.

He shivered a little and went to her side. “It won’t be necessary now, will it?” he asked hesitantly.

Meng Yao had never doubted his mother’s cunning before, but...well. It was only that Nie Mingjue was so looking forward to having a brother – Meng Yao was in some ways a brother, too, of course, or at least a shidi, but he was of an age that made him more of a friend so it apparently didn’t count – and had spoken so many times about the fun they’d have with a baby that they’d be able to teach everything they knew that Meng Yao had temporarily forgotten that the baby wasn’t going to get to live.

“I will decide what’s necessary,” she said, and that meant it probably was. Poor baby. “Your job right now is to get yourself a comfortable spot here that you can maintain even if I’m thrown out, you understand me? What you’re doing with Nie-gongzi is good. His father indulges him beyond reason; if you make him love you, he will fight for you to stay no matter what happens.”

Meng Yao secretly thought that, in all honesty, getting Nie Mingjue to love him seemed a bit too easy a job.

He’d already tried to play his mother’s tricks, to make himself seem nice and accommodating, the sort of brother any many would love, but Nie Mingjue had seen him at his most bossy and capricious when he hadn’t known that it would made, and it was a bit late to recover the original impression now. And yet to his surprise it didn’t seem to matter, when Nie Mingjue was puzzled and even concerned by Meng Yao’s gentle and submissive behavior rather than enchanted by it, and when he eventually reverted back to something more natural just to make him stop prying.

No, it didn’t seem to matter at all. Meng Yao was pretty sure that Nie Mingjue was already ready to die for him if need be.

Maybe not die. He shouldn’t think such things, especially not around his mother – especially not with Madame Nie gone, with Lao Nie’s next heir in Meng Shi’s belly and her eyes speculatively set on his bed.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Meng Yao promised, thinking that his mother’s fear of the abandonment of men was for once a good thing if it meant she hadn’t yet started thinking of how only a single child’s life stood between her sons – including her new son – and all the power and riches of the Nie sect.

He’d never thought to scheme against his mother before.

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do it now, but…that poor baby.

Poor Nie Mingjue, too.

So Meng Yao went back to Nie Mingjue, but instead of doing what his mother wanted and earning his love – he had Nie Mingjue’s trust, and that was all he needed – he instead whispered in his ear about how happy old Lao Nie seemed to be with a woman by his side, pointed out his smiles when Meng Shi served him at dinner or asked to rearrange a room with some new decorations she’d found in the market.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little doubtful but not too much. “Even if she wasn’t his choice, she’s his responsibility, especially now, and it’s better if they like each other. What’s your point?”

“I’m just saying –”

“Oh, come off it, you never just say anything. You’re my brother! If you’ve got some thoughts, just tell me, and we’ll work on them together.” He laughed at Meng Yao’s shocked expression. “I’m not much of a scholar, but even I know that brothers are better off when they scheme together, rather than in parallel or against each other. What is it you want to do?”

Meng Yao weighed his options and spoke: “After the baby’s born, you and I should take care of it so that my mother and your father can spend more time together.”

“Is it that you’re worried about being cast out if they don’t get along? It won’t happen –”

“No, no,” Meng Yao said quickly, though he was, a little, and anyway it certainly was a good excuse to use. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have more brothers?”

Nie Mingjue was easily convinced, as always. “Maybe even a little sister!”

“But you can’t have new babies if you’re taking care of the old one,” Meng Yao continued, twisting truth a little and counting on the fact that Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to know too much about children or child-bearing. “That’s why we should take care of the baby ourselves.”

“Won’t we be too busy?” Nie Mingjue asked. “We’ll have lessons and classes and training –”

There was, Meng Yao conceded, an awful lot of training to do at the Nie sect.

“– while your mother will be resting and able to spend more time with the baby. And feed it, too, though maybe we should talk to someone about getting a wet-nurse to help her out…maybe a nanny goat as well…”

“A wet-nurse is a great idea,” Meng Yao said encouragingly. The less dependency they had on his mother for things for the baby, the better, and most especially when it came to the baby having enough to eat. One of the other women at the brothel had had a baby die from hunger once, when she stopped producing milk but lacked the money to buy a replacement. “But really, think about it – you said yourself that it’d be nice if we could teach the baby things.”

He pushed it as far as he could, and the heavens obligingly did the rest by giving his mother a difficult last few months – not so difficult that he felt afraid that he’d lose her to the birth, not with all the Nie sect’s expensive doctors fluttering around, but enough to exhaust her, and Nie Mingjue was convinced by the need to lift her burdens where he hadn’t been by more practical arguments.

And so little Nie Huaisang, when he was born, spent his first month of seclusion carefully guarded by his attentive brothers, and was then spirited away to their rooms the second they were able – it wouldn’t save him from the winter, Meng Yao thought with satisfaction, but it might save him from his mother.

His mother – their mother, now, but really still his mother – knew what he was doing and allowed it with an indulgent look, which he’d expected; after all he was her precious A-Yao, child of her youth and dreams, and as long as the mistake wasn’t fatal he was allowed to make one here and there.

And Nie Huaisang was a mistake worth making.

Meng Yao had taken a while to think so – he’d started out less than impressed with the baby, which was little more than a fleshy blob, capable of nothing but crying and emitting noxious bodily fluids, but Nie Mingjue had loved Nie Huaisang on sight, treating caring for him as a different type of training, and he’d been so enthusiastic that Meng Yao had gotten a little carried away by it. And after a while he discovered that Nie Huaisang would only settle down if he was there, if he helped, and that went to his head, leading him to preen like a peacock with pride (though it was good that Nie Huaisang eventually calmed enough to permit Nie Mingjue to assist before Meng Yao collapsed of exhaustion)…

All of a sudden it was real.

Nie Huaisang was his brother.

His real brother, a brother by blood – another child of their mother, small and clever and cunning like him, another who would stand by his side and make her proud, to show the world that they were more than just what she had been.

(He’d say that Nie Huaisang could help him beat anyone who said a bad word about her, but Nie Mingjue was doing a good job of that on his own, pretending all the while that he wasn’t doing it at all. As if he could keep a secret.)

Meng Yao was happy.

But then -

Then it was winter.

The first little cough came during one of the classes on politics Meng Yao shared with Nie Mingjue, both of them writing their answers with delicate calligraphy – well, delicate and refined for Meng Yao, while Nie Mingjue’s brushstrokes were forceful yet elegant. Nie Mingjue didn’t notice the cough, absently hoisting Nie Huaisang a little higher in his non-writing arm, but Meng Yao was immediately frozen, thinking of what his mother had said.

He probably won’t survive his first winter.

Nie Huaisang was born in the late spring, which meant he was only half a year old when the winter came – some protection, but not much, and he was as weak as Meng Shi had predicted. The Nie sect had doctors aplenty, and Lao Nie spared no expense in getting medicine for his second son, but Meng Yao constantly worried that it wouldn’t be enough.

When Nie Huaisang continued to sicken, those soft little rasping breaths ringing in Meng Yao’s ear, he even started to wonder whether his mother really had done something after all, even though she knew he wanted Nie Huaisang to live, and he hated that he even thought it. And yet, he wondered...

His mother visited her sick son a few times, fewer than Nie Mingjue would like and more than Meng Yao wanted, and she had a good face for concern, full of gentle worry, good enough to fool anyone but her firstborn. Meng Yao overheard her crying once and was puzzled, only to understand when he heard Lao Nie comfort her that she wasn’t to blame, and that she wouldn’t be thrown out even if the child did die.

There were fewer visits after that, the purpose achieved.

(Meng Yao loved his mother, and knew she loved him – child of her heart that he was – but sometimes he thought he could almost hate her, too. It was a thought he’d had before, hidden deep in his heart, but only now that he knew there was more to life than her did he actually allow himself to think it.)

Nie Mingjue didn’t quite understand why she was acting the way she was, and Meng Yao determined in his heart that he never would. He might be younger in years than the boy he’d started (after a great deal of pressure and sad eyes like a lost puppy) to call his da-ge, but he was older in spirit. Perhaps if he were older, if he’d suffered more, he would resent Nie Mingjue’s carefree nature and the heart he wore on his sleeve, so easy to hurt and speaking of a lifetime of having not been hurt, but he was still young and all his dreams had come true – it was easy enough to shrug off the innocence and earnestness that, if he’d ever had it, he had lost it long ago.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the sleepless nights Nie Mingjue spent tending to Nie Huaisang, shoulder-to-shoulder with Meng Yao, persisting even when Meng Yao fell asleep; the way Meng Yao would always find a blanket covering him if he had, the way Nie Mingjue scolded him to eat while forgetting his own meals, the way he hide his tears for the times he thought Meng Yao couldn’t see or hear because he didn’t want to burden him –

“He’ll always be weak,” the doctors said, examining Nie Huaisang’s too-thin too-small frame, shuddering with coughs. “His muscle tone is low, his cultivation base unsteady…”

You might as well give up and try for another, they meant, and Nie Mingjue heard it as clearly as Meng Yao did.

And just as Meng Yao did, he refused to listen.

Where Meng Yao smiled at the doctors and thought of revenge, Nie Mingjue bristled and shouted, cursing them with as wide a vocabulary as he knew – wider, now that he had made Meng Yao’s acquaintance, than it had been before – and chased them away as frauds and liars.

And just as Meng Yao started to lose hope, Nie Huaisang turned a corner and got better.

“I don’t know if I can do that again,” Meng Yao said, staring with tears in his eyes at his little brother’s rising and falling chest, unhindered by any obstruction. “Next winter…”

“Next winter he’ll be older,” Nie Mingjue said, and wrapped an arm around him. “And so will we.”

Perhaps it was that that drove Nie Mingjue to pick up his saber a full two years before he rightfully should have received it, claiming a truly fearsome blade as his own if only he could master her, and after nearly a year of hard work he did. He named her Baxia, and Meng Yao thought of a creature strong enough to carry a mountain on its back – but it was of Nie Mingjue he thought.

(His own saber, he decided, would be named Chiwen, and like him it would draw evil away from others, taking it all on himself and swallowing it into his belly where it could rot him through and through if it meant that those he loved most would remain untainted by it.)

#mdzs #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #nieyao #my fic #my fics #three gates

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yeah-klave · 3 years

Text

A Short History of What Happened - Chapter 5

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Catch up with the story so far: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4

Prompt: Omegas aren’t allowed to join the army, but then Omega!Klaus gets dropped into Vietnam and has to pose as a Beta. He manages quite well, right until he goes into heat. Alpha!Dave is protective and incredibly aroused/horny.

Genre: Omega verse, smut, developing relationships, slow burn, undercover, misunderstandings, secretly in love.

Word length: This chapter: 3.9k

Warning: Implied, canon-compliant abuse. Implied homophobia. Discussion of AU-specific political issues, including victim-blaming, gay-shame and dub-con medical procedures. The entire work, when posted, will contain explicit sexual content.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

***************************************************************

They walked on in silence for a while.

Dave wasn’t quite sure why or how, but he felt more content in this moment than he had in months, years even. Maybe ever.

It was ridiculous. The man walking beside him was practically a stranger. A mystery; with secrets and a painful history and – quite possibly – more than a little darkness inside him.

Dave couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he still felt a… pull.

Perhaps Klaus did live in a world of shadows, but maybe Dave could turn on the light. Maybe Dave could be the light.

Dave heard a gentle inhale next to him and turned to see Klaus breathing deeply, his eyes closed and his heard tilted back slightly.

Dave faltered, was he… scenting the air?

Klaus’ lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes and caught Dave’s gaze. His irises were thin green disks around the dark pools of his blown pupils.

“Whaafght,” Dave stuttered.

Klaus blinked.

Dave composed himself, took a deep breath and started again.

“What,” Dave swallowed, thinking frantically and eventually grasping at the first coherent thought that came to him, “what kind of music do you like?”

Before him, a smile spread slowly across Klaus’ face and a twinkle lit up his eyes.

“Buckle up, David,” Klaus smiled, “I’m about to take you on a wild ride.”

And he did.

Dave hadn’t even heard of most of the songs Klaus listed off. In fact, he didn’t recognise them to all, even when Klaus sang bits aloud in a breathy, enthusiastic, but slightly off-key voice. Dave was feeling light and relaxed, but he didn’t start getting giggly until Klaus began adding the accompanying dance moves – a series of shimmies, little hip rolls and dramatic arm movements. Dave started laughing. And once he started, he found it really difficult to stop. The sound of Dave attempting to supress his giggling seemed to spur Klaus on because he just started hamming it up even more.

Dave tried to get himself under control a couple of times, glancing around nervously, aware of where they were. But the coast looked completely clear and then he’d look back at Klaus and the expression on his face would set him off again.

“I’ve never,” Dave wheezed between peals of laughter, “even heard of these songs. My favourite song is The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Where you’re from must be much hipper than where I grew up.”

“Ohmigod, Dave!” Klaus choked, “Hip! You’re just too precious!”

“It means trendy or… happening,” Dave helpfully supplied.

Klaus’ faced creased and he doubled over in silent giggles.

“That’s perfect,” Klaus choked out, gasping for air, “absolutely spiffing! Completely ripping! Positively groovy!”

Dave didn’t quite get the joke, but grinned along with him.

“It must have been, though,” Dave bobbed his head earnestly. “We must be pretty out of touch with the cool music where I’m from.”

“Where’s that?” Klaus asked.

“Near Dallas,” Dave supplied.

“Ooh, a Southerner!” Klaus said. “So, Dave, are you more a smooth Southern gentleman or rough Texas cowboy?”

Dave paused. “Neither,” he said finally, “I’m just me. Just boring old Dave Katz. There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m just… a plain hamburger kind of a guy.”

Klaus looked at him steadily. “I don’t buy that at all,” he said. “There’s nothing plain hamburger about you, Dave.”

“Well,” Dave corrected himself. “Actually, my order would probably be plain hamburger with two pickles, if I’m being exact. And picky.”

“Exactly,” Klaus grinned. “See, just what I said! Flavour! Dave Katz likes to slip a bit of pickle in his hamburger!”

Klaus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Dave coughed uncomfortably. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory.

“How do you take your hamburger, then?” Dave asked.

“I like a little pickle,” Klaus said. “Well actually, I like a big pickle. A big, hard pickle.” He waggled his eyebrows again and then did an adorable little two-eyed wink. Dave felt his cheeks heating up at the same time his heart clenched a little at the cuteness. “The cheese can go take a running jump, though,” Klaus added, “and it had better come with fries and ketchup or else heads will roll. To be honest though, hamburger probably wouldn’t be my first choice for favourite food.”

“What would be?” Dave asked, interested.

Klaus pondered. “I knew someone once who made amazing ossobuco, that was pretty good. And I’ve always had a sweet spot of doughnuts. My siblings and I used to…” Klaus trailed off.

Dave held his breath, but Klaus didn’t add any more. Dave chanced a glance sideways. Klaus had a distant, faraway look in his eyes.

Dave racked his brain for a change of topic.

“Have you ever read Dune?” he asked.

Klaus appeared to give himself a little shake.

“No,” he said, “what’s it about?”

“Well,” and with that, Dave launched into a monologue about his favourite ever book. As he talked, he saw Klaus’ eyes flitting over his face, smiling and nodding along. There was a warmth and fondness there that took Dave by surprise; an unguarded acceptance. The mutual respect of a new friendship. It made Dave feel giddy and drunk, a bubble of happiness growing inside him.

Dave was just wondering whether he should start telling Klaus about his interpretation of the ‘fear is the little death’ line, when he suddenly noticed in the distance, the location of the new camp they were travelling towards.

Reality hit him like a punch to the face.

He’d had all this time alone with Klaus to talk about the difficult things, the things they couldn’t speak about in front of the others and they’d wasted it on hamburgers and silly dance moves. In fact, he’d hardly got any answers to the multitude of questions that has been plaguing him since Klaus first arrived. They still had so many practical things they needed to discuss.

“Klaus,” Dave said, his voice low and urgent.

Klaus flinched and looked around quickly for the danger.

Guiltily, Dave backtracked.

“No. Sorry. It’s fine. It’s just, we’ve almost arrived and…” he paused, usure how to phrase the next bit. “There are still a few things we should probably talk about first.”

“Like what?” Klaus asked, his voice innocent and confused.

“Well…” Dave started slowly. “You know…” He looked at Klaus hopefully. Klaus looked back, nonplussed.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, then whispered. “You know… omega stuff.” He swallowed. “Like… how we’re going to mask your scent and keep you safe.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “And then there’s,” he gave an embarrassed little cough, “there’s your…. ummmm…” his cheeks were bright red now, “there’s your…” he looked down and finally mumbled, “your heats.”

“Oh,” Klaus said breezily. “No need to worry about that, I have the suppressor implant.” He waved Dave’s words off with a distracted flap of his hand. “And the IUD, too” he added as an afterthought. “With the scent thing, though, I thought you said the others were all betas? They won’t be able to smell me. Only alphas can smell omegas. And there’s just you, so I’m all good.”

Dave frowned, confused. “What do you mean implant?”

“The heat suppressor implant,” Klaus clarified. “I have been – almost exclusively – since I was in my teens.” His face darkened. “My dad made me. He didn’t trust me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to get bonded to the first alpha that came along, or get myself knocked up at seventeen. But I would have liked the chance to masturbate my way through my heats in my locked bedroom like a normal teenage omega. What I really needed was a whack-off dildo. But, oh no! That’s not okay for Number Four. He had to have the medical implant instead.”

Dave frowned deeper, trying desperately to keep up.

“Are you saying,” he said slowly, “that you have something implanted in you that’s stops you going into heat?”

“Umm, yeah,” Klaus drawled, looking at him as though Dave was the one talking nonsense. But then his eyes got really wide and he snapped his mouth shut.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, staring into the middle distance. “They didn’t start doing that until…” he paused, “So nobody here has…” he trailed off again.

“Klaus?” Dave prompted.

Klaus gave a deep sigh. “Look,” he said. “I can’t explain it. But we don’t need to worry about my heats. I’m good for easily another few months.” He sighed again deeply. “And by then I expect Five will have… done something anyway... probably come and got me. So, I’ll be long gone before that’s an issue.”

Dave choked. “There are five of them after you?”

“What?” Klaus frowned. “No, Five. My brother Five.”

Dave was completely lost. “Okay,” he said slowly, still not quite sure what had happened but somehow trusting that Klaus knew what he was talking about. “Okay, that’s good, I think. So unexpected heats is something we can cross off the list of worries.”

“Yes.” Klaus gave a definitive nod. “So go on, what else did you have on that list?” Klaus asked. “It was my scent, wasn’t it? I don’t get what’s the big deal is if we’re just surrounded by betas?”

“Everyone else in our unit are betas,” Dave confirmed. “But there are alphas in the other units. I mean,” he added delicately, “I don’t know if any that are openly… you know…” he trailed off.

“Gay?” Klaus supplied.

“Yeah,” Dave said thankfully. “But, I mean, that’s not to say there aren’t any. If they were they’d probably – no definitely – try to hide that.” Dave twisted his face in discomfort. Klaus was looked at him unblinkingly, a question lodged behind his slightly furrowed brows.

Dave swallowed again and tried to steady his breathing, determinedly not making eye contact. He couldn’t let Klaus know that he was talking about himself. Not after everything Klaus had said earlier about manipulative alphas only being kind to omegas for sex. He wanted Klaus to feel safe. He wanted Klaus to trust him.

So Dave couldn’t let him know that he was one of those kind of alphas. The ones who were attracted to men. The alphas who were almost as rare as male omegas. After what Klaus had shared about his past, he didn’t want Klaus to feel scared of him. He didn’t want to make him feel like… prey.

Klaus was one hundred percent safe with Dave. Dave knew he would never force himself on anyone. But Klaus didn’t know that. Klaus would just see him as a potential threat. Even worse, he might think that he was manipulating him, that Dave had befriended him on false pretences, only to get close to him and... and… Dave shuddered.

Klaus had made it very clear – he was running from an abusive alpha. So absolutely under no circumstances could Dave let him know his preferences. The competing alpha urges battled inside him again: desire and protection. Protection won.

“So,” Klaus said slowly, “you’re saying I need to be careful to hide the fact that I’m an omega from the alphas in other units, not because they’d want to fuck me – because they’re probably not interested in that – but because they’d out me as an omega. And I’d then be sent… back.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. “And if back isn’t safe for you, then we need to make sure they don’t find out, so that you can stay here where you’re safe. Safer.”

“Okay,” Klaus said. “How do we hide my omega-ness from them, then?”

“Well,” Dave said, “for a start, don’t tell anyone you’re an omega.”

“Good one, Sherlock” Klaus grinned.

“Secondly,” Dave said ignoring Klaus’ comment with a small shrug and a roll of his eyes, “I guess, try to keep the scent glands in your neck and wrists covered as much as possible. Clothing is okay for a start, but if you’re going to be around alphas for any length of time, it might be a good idea to cover up even more… bandages or dressings maybe? Or – at a push – a layer of mud might work.”

“That sounds gross.” Klaus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I know, it sucks,” Dave pulled a sympathetic face, “but it’s safer.”

“It sucks to be safe!” Klaus huffed in frustration. “And you have no idea how much it really sucks. I’m not really one for coving up. I like to live my life scantily clad.”

Dave swallowed and looked resolutely ahead.

“You know…” Klaus said in a sing-song voice, “bare chested twink, make the boys wink…”

“Twink?” Dave frowned.

“That would be me, Dave,” Klaus said, waving his arms in a flourish that took in his whole body. He did a quick twirl on the spot.

“Oh.” Dave could feel his face heating up again.

“Or,” Klaus carried on, “if you want to sin, show some skin… to make him cum, bare your tum.”

“They’re,” Dave swallowed, “interesting rhymes.”

Klaus let out a musically little giggle and batted his long eyelashes theatrically. “All of my own creation, Davey. And anyway… what more do you expect? I’m just a little omega sex toy, there’s nothing up here in my head. I’m only good for one thing… pleasuring horny alphas.”

Dave frowned. “Omegas are worth so much more than that,” he said seriously. His mouth had gone very dry.

“Dave, it’s fine, I was joking.” Klaus said with a little shrug.

“No,” Dave said. “It’s not okay. I know what the law says, but general perceptions aren’t so fast to change. And it’s not fair that omegas are still treated like second class citizens. You shouldn’t feel like you have to act a part just because it’s what’s expected of you. You should be able to be exactly who you want to be.” Dave’s voice had risen and he was breathing deeply. The ironic weight of his words rang in his ears long after he’d finished talking.

“I completely agree,” Klaus said seriously, all frivolity stripped from his face. He looked vulnerable and open again. “I’m absolutely an advocate for omega rights. And it’s good to know that you’re an omega ally. Those rhymes though… I know it might seem like that’s me conforming to an expected stereotype, but actually, it’s the opposite. I hate being told that I shouldn’t embrace my sexuality because it negates years of omega rights protests. Acting like a flirt doesn’t mean I don’t believe omegas should have equal rights in society, whether they’re bonded or not. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a world of difference between choosing to act like a sex object and being forced into it. And I hate it when other omegas imply I’m being a bad omega, like there’s a right way and a wrong way. Fuck everyone who says acting like a stereotype propagates the wrong impression and makes it okay for alphas to treat us that way. That’s just victim blaming. If alphas act like fucking dicks, that’s on them, not us!” Klaus took a long, shuddering inhale.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Dave said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I upset you or I said the wrong thing. I’m not always the best at talking about this kind of stuff. All I meant to say was… I think omegas get a raw deal and… and… and I’m on your side.”

Klaus smiled contrite. “I know, I’m sorry that got a bit heavy. And don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just omega politics!” He blew out a frustrated breath.

Dave pulled a sympathetic face.

“Anyway,” Klaus said, gathering himself again, “where were we? Oh, yeah, slathering me in mud and making me cover up like a nun.” He grinned and did his funny little two eyed blink again. “Any other ideas about how to mask me up and make me the least fuckable guy in the country?” His voice was light and Dave knew he was only joking.

Dave cleared his throat. “Umm,” he started, “I thought maybe… you could wear my clothes?” He could feel his cheeks heating up again. “After I’ve had them on, I mean. That way my natural alpha smell might cover yours a bit. But you don’t have to,” He added hurriedly, “if you think that’s weird or gross or whatever. It was just an idea.”

Klaus shrugged. “Nope, I mean, that’s a perfectly logical idea. To other alphas, a faint alpha smell mixed with a fait omega smell will probably come out smelling like… well, probably like a bit of a funky smelling beta. But I can deal with that.”

Dave nodded. “I know it’s less than ideal, but I think that’s probably the best option. Other than that, I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Klaus paused, then said slowly. “So, basically, I’m not really safe here unless you help me. I have to stay on your good side, or else bad things could happen to me? That sounds like it’s come straight from victim testimony.”

Dave grimaced. “Yeah, I totally see where you’re coming from with that. All I can say is that… I’m not like that. I genuinely just want to help you. I know that sounds pretty pathetic and not very reassuring. But the bad things are genuine threats, and we’re in the unusual situation where I actually am the only one who can help. So hopefully you can learn to trust that I am actually an okay guy.” He gave an apologetic little shrug and looked over towards Klaus. “I’ve got your back, soldier. Whether you believe me or not.”

Klaus cocked his head to one side and appraised him seriously, but Dave thought he could smell something light and teasing in the air.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we… soldier?” He said eventually.

“I’ll take that,” Dave said calmly, his face soft and open and honest. Klaus just looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

They had walked on a few more paces before Dave looked over at Klaus warily. “There is something else I should probably tell you.” He said slowly.

Klaus’ ears pricked up and he looked over at Dave quickly. Dave’s nostrils flared, expecting a wave of apprehension from Klaus, but instead all he caught the scent of was… hopeful. He faltered and looked over at Klaus, whose eyes were large and fixed on Dave’s face.

“There is an alpha in another unit,” he started and watched as Klaus’ face fell slightly before his eyes. “I don’t really know, but I have heard… rumours.”

Klaus frowned again. “What kind of rumours?”

“Well,” Dave said. “I heard that… when he was back home… he was arrested a couple of times for abusing omegas, but he got off on technicalities.”

Klaus swallowed and his upper lip twitched in suppressed anger. “Bastard,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dave intoned flatly. “But look,” he added quickly. “I don’t know if that’s true. It could just be an ugly rumour.”

“All rumours start with a grain of truth somewhere. Except when Allison’s involved.” Klaus grinned. “Man, I wish I could introduce people like that to Allison. She’d sort them right out!” He barked a laugh.

Dave fought the urge to ask who Allison was, and instead said, “I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Just in case, you know. Just to be extra careful around him. He’s big. And not just alpha big. I mean, he’s big big. He could probably snap you in two with his little finger.”

“And by that you actually mean he’d split me in half. Right up the middle.”

Dave grimaced. “Well, I was trying to put it delicately.”

“Yeah, I know you were. Thanks though, I’ll watch out for him. Maybe you can point him out to me?”

“Sure,” Dave agreed.

They walked a little further in silence. It wasn’t exactly the comfortable silence of earlier, but Dave at least felt content that he’d said what needed to be said and was happy they’d come up with a plan. After a few more steps, Klaus chimed up.

“It really doesn’t seem fair that omega biology makes us so much smaller and slighter alphas. I mean, why do we have to be as small as betas. We’re the ones expected to mate with alphas. Alphas who are biologically huge!” He turned towards Dave and looked up into his eyes. Dave looked down at him, really appreciating for the first time the size difference between them. “I mean, everything is just so big about alphas. Their height, their build, their personalities, their cocks…” Dave choked slightly and Klaus grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I am into alpha cocks, but biologically they really are unnecessarily enormous.” Dave looked resolutely ahead, but dimly he was aware that Klaus’ gaze had travelled down to his crotch and the noticeable bulge in his uniform pants.

“The size thing is all very well when it’s an alpha you’re into,” Klaus continued, his gaze still lowered. “But when it’s a predatory alpha throwing his weight around, it’s a bit disconcerting. Omegas should at least have some sort of biological defence mechanism to protect ourselves from alphas like that. Like skunk stick gas, or retractable cat claws.”

Dave let out a loud laugh. He brought a hand up to cover him mouth.

Klaus watched him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh my god,” Dave huffed out a chuckle. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m just picturing you with tufty ears and a tail, like a hybrid feline-man… or a cat-boy or something. That’s so wild.”

“Wow,” Klaus said under this breath. “Just wait ‘till you realise what that means, it’s going to blow your mind.”

“What?” Dave asked.

“Oh, never mind, ignore me” Klaus said hurriedly. But he was still grinning.

They turned a bend in the track and suddenly ahead of them they could see the camp site and others in their unit already hard at work.

“I guess it’s back to war now then,” Klaus said shakily.

“I guess so,” Dave replied slowly.

“I’ve got to say,” Klaus grinned, “I really can’t wait to wear that shirt tomorrow.” He nodded at Dave’s chest and furrowed his brows in a mock thoughtful look. “I just don’t think clothes feel right unless they’ve been worn in first by another man during a six hour hike through a tropical rainforest. Clothes are just missing something if they don’t come dirt encrusted and pre-stiffened in dried sweat.”

Dave grimaced and looked down at himself, noticing for the first time his pit stains and the dampness across his chest and back.

“Maybe I’ll give this a quick rinse first,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare,” Klaus said firmly. “I need all the alpha musk I can get, remember. Come on, Dave,” he said biting his lip slowly and looking up – way up – into Dave’s face, “you have to mark me. Cover me in your scent.”

Dave swallowed hard and forced his breaths to come evenly. As he looked down into Klaus’ breathtakingly beautiful face, he thought there must be some sort of trick of the light as the sun set slowly beneath the horizon in a pool of blood red light, because he could have sworn he saw a faint blush spread across Klaus’ nose and cheeks, the flush working its way down his throat.

“O-okay,” Dave stammered.

Klaus just blinked slowly and raised his gaze from Dave’s lips to his eyes.

Maintaining this charade, Dave thought ruefully, is going to be much harder than I thought.

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #tua

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nastasyafilippovnas · 3 years

Note

2 prompts. he / she will never be you, and I would rather do difficult with you than easy with someone else. For santhony

Thanks for the prompts! I chose to do the second, hope you like it! <3

santhony + “I would rather do difficult with you than easy with someone else”, set during 1.08, after Siena agrees to go with the ball with Anthony, wc. 1.9k (ao3)

She checked the time on Anthony’s pocket watch on the bedside table and groaned. Siena swore the damned thing moved faster than any normal watch. By this rate, she was going to be terribly late and wouldn't have any time for a quick warm-up before her performance tonight.

The man to blame for her lateness stirred behind her and proceeded to place light kisses on her shoulder, his hands around her waist pulling their bodies closer, his front against her back.

“I am not done with you yet.” He said, his mouth moving up, trailing kisses from her shoulder up to her neck and sucking on the spot just below her ear that he knew drove her crazy.

Siena couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips.

“We can’t.” Her protest came out weaker than she would’ve liked. They had spent most of the afternoon in bed, and she still felt hunger for his touch, his warmth next to her. She had tried giving him up, but the time apart hadn’t helped at all. She wondered if there would ever be a time where she would be immune to him. It seemed unlikely. “I must get ready for my performance.”

His kisses stopped immediately, though his mouth still hovered on her neck and she could feel his breath caressing her skin as he spoke. “I thought you would get someone to cover for you. How will you be performing if we’re going to the ball?”

Siena bit her lip. He got her there.

“Well, I thought I would do my show and meet you at the ball later.”

Anthony frowned, though she couldn’t see it. What she proposed wasn’t unheard of. The ton’s parties were known for extending well into the evening and many people in fact attended the opera or the theater first before arriving fashionably late at whatever ball they had also be invited to. But it wasn’t what Anthony had in mind when he invited her to go with him. He was planning to meet her at her door, with the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find - he had never given her flowers before, not even to congratulate her on her performances, and he knew she would understand the importance of the gesture. They would ride on his carriage (during which he would have to contain himself to not kiss her and ruin her dress) and enter the ball together, arm in arm, so there wouldn’t be any mistakes about the current status of relationship. Then proceed to dance the night away. Just the two of them. In no part of his scenario, he expected to spend spend half of his evening sulking in a corner and waiting for her to finish her performance. And there was the way she had said it…

“But you’re still coming, right?”

“Of course!” Her voice was too high and her answer came too quickly. She realized it at the same time Anthony turned her around so he could see her face.

“Siena…”

She tried turning back and getting out of the bed, but Anthony was faster, his hand on her chin, keeping her in place and their eyes locked. “No, don’t do that. Don’t turn away from me, Siena. Tell me…what’s going on?”

She hated when Anthony went soft on her. It made it so much harder to be logical and practical. But she knew she had to.

“Maybe going to the ball wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“I told you, no one will say a thing.” He answered confidently, smiling at her.

Siena sat properly in the bed, his hands falling from her face to her thigh as she started speaking.

“And I said, not to you. Not directly. But are you ready for all the gossip and the whispers? For the men commenting about how they had me, with my legs open in my dressing room?” Before Anthony could even think of defending her honor, she added, “And it will be true! In some cases at least. Are you ready for that? And the women, your mother and your sisters…maybe they won’t say anything to you. But they will say it to me.”

Anthony sighed. Siena had always been the most pragmatical out of the two of them, his brave soprano who still didn’t call him by his first name despite sharing his bed for the last two years. And, as always, she wasn’t wrong to have concerns. He wanted them to have their happy ending. It wouldn’t be as easy, or as painless, as he had initially told her, but it would be worth it. Of that, he was certain.

“Is that what you’re worried about? The gossip?"

She bit her lip. It wasn’t. Not exactly. Being the talk of the ton would be nothing new - she was the most notorious opera singer in London, after all -, and it would have been worth it. If she had been certain of the outcome, that is.

She wasn’t.

“You can change your mind, my lord. At anytime.” Before Anthony could contest, she continued, “You did it already! You promised you would always take care of me! And you changed your mind.” Regret quickly crossed his face and Siena could feel the tears forming in her eyes at the reminder of that morning, when he had tossed her aside as if she had been nothing more than an inconvenience. It wouldn’t do to start crying now. She was stronger than that.

“Right now, you’re happy we’re back together and you think we can overcome anything. What’s going to happen when everyone you know and respects turns against us?”

“You're right.” Anthony answered quickly and Siena couldn’t hide her surprise. She had wanted him to come to his senses and agree with her, of course she did. His idea had been utter foolishness after all, born out of the high of being in each other’s arms once more. But she had expected him to at least put up a fight. It was okay, though. It only confirmed she had been right all along. She wasn’t disappointed. She wasn’t.

“Of course I am. So we can forget ever going public…”

“You're right that it won’t be as easy as I said.” He interrupted her. “Me being a viscount…my sister being a duchess…none of that will stop the talk of the ton. In fact, my mother might be the one to most strongly oppose us being together.” Anthony couldn’t hide his grimace. His mother’s reaction to his choice was the one thing he had tried to avoid thinking about at all costs. Violet Bridgerton wouldn’t give up just because he and Siena went to the Hastings’ ball together. As a matter of fact, it might only serve as further motivation on her relentless pursuit of a suitable bride for her first-born. He could count on Benedict to be on his side (his brother was pursuing Siena’s closest friend, after all) and Eloise’s curious nature would endear Siena to her, he hoped. But what about Colin? Would his brother be accepting of their relationship, when Anthony had so adamantly opposed his engagement to Miss Thompson? And Daphne and Simon, would they come to his aid as he expected, or would they worry about their own status first? Simon only referred to Siena as his mistress and Daphne wanted nothing more than to be a proper lady of the ton. Maybe neither of them wouldn’t be willing drag the Hastings' name into another scandal just for Anthony’s sake. His own family might not offer the support he craved, though he hoped they would come to understand his decision. He couldn’t keep hurting his own heart in the name of duty and honor. “It won’t be easy. But, Siena, I would rather do difficult with you than easy with someone else.”

She shook her head. “You don’t mean that, my lord. You can’t mean that.”

Anthony let out a small laugh of incredulity, “Can’t I? And may I ask, why not?”

Siena opened and closed her mouth, at loss for words. Before she could come up with an answer, though, Anthony's hands enveloped her waist and he pulled her back to the bed and on top of him, kissing her quickly in the mouth. Surprised, it took her a moment to respond, but he was already pulling away, though his arms remained around her, his hands positioned low on her back.

“I know what this is.” He said, smiling at her. “You're scared. Scared I’m going to leave again, break things off once more and let you deal with these people’s snide comments on your own. That I’m going to see you the same way they do and I’ll turn away.” Her brown eyes looked at him with surprise and she wondered if she was indeed so transparent or if he just knew her that well. Sometimes she dreamed of the life she and Anthony could have together. More often than not, these dreams turned sour as the Anthony in them realized she would never be more than a lowly opera singer, only good for entertaining him at night between the sheets.

“One day you will.” She murmured softly against his chest.

“No, no, never.” He protested, holding her face up, and hoping she could see the truth in his eyes and in his voice. “Siena, I wish you could see yourself as I do. The most talent, incredible, funny, smart woman I’ve ever met. There’s no one but you. Not for me. I’m sorry that I hurt you and made you ever doubt that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and Anthony saw a single tear escape as she sighed, her hands on his chest shaking for a moment. “You make it so hard for me to do the right thing.”

He kissed her cheek where the tear had dried before turning towards her mouth and kissing her again, hard and desperate.

“I want you to do the right thing for us. For us and no one else.” His hand was in her hair, their heads as close together as they could without touching. “Choose us, Siena.”

It sounded so simple when he said it. He made her believe anything was possible. But she knew this thing between them was fragile, powerful and uncontainable, yes, but fragile. It had been broken and mended together by sheer force of will, and any strong push could shatter it for good. If they wanted it survive and flourish, then they first had to protect it.

“I can’t go to the ball with you. Not tonight.” She saw the disappointment flash through his eyes and be replaced by a mask of cold indifference as he nodded in understanding, already starting to pull away from her.

“But I am not going to the opera either”, she quickly added and Anthony looked at her in confusion.

“I thought…maybe we could stay in tonight? We can have dinner with your brother and Genevieve later.”

Siena looked at him expectantly.

A compromise, that’s what she proposed. Maybe they weren’t ready for the harsh light of day and the deep cutting remarks of society, but it didn’t mean they would never be. In the mean time, they could allow a little light in as they grew stronger in the dark.

“I suppose…Benedict and Madame Delacroix shall make for a decent conversation.” He answered and the smile Siena gave him was so bright it was almost blinding. “As long as you’re by my side, my lady.”

And, because he knew she would, Anthony kissed her before she could voice her protest over his choice of endearment.

#anonymous #answered asks #bridgerton #anthony x siena #santhony #anthony bridgerton #siena rosso #my fics

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thecleverdame · 4 years

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The Oath - 2

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

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Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Chapters 1-9 are currently available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

TWO

“What’s this?” Sam asks.

He could smell you from the moment his brother dragged you into their tent. Your Omega is masked by something but it’s there and it’s unmistakable.

“An Omega the men were about to ruin.” Your captor lets you go and you stand there, eyes finding a rock on the dirt floor and staring at it.

Two Alphas. This is not what you hoped. But maybe you can still make it out alive.

You’re a squirmy little thing, and it’s hard to get a good look at you. At first glance, it would be easy to dismiss you as just another desperate Omega trying to get away. In Sam’s experience, your kind rarely embraces your place in the natural order of things. Yes, it would be easy to overlook you, but Sam pays attention to details. He can see past your stringy hair and tear-stained face, your bloodied knees, and dirty breasts. He’s willing to bet you’re really something to see when you’re not a snot covered mess.

The scent coming from between your legs is thick like honeysuckles in the summer, you’re still sweet. On the verge of being broken but holding yourself together.

Dean looks unhappy and Sam waits for what’s to follow.

“As much as I’d love to stay and play with her, I have to ride the outer camps. If one of us doesn’t do the rounds the men start thinking they’re above the rules. We need to do something. They can’t be trusted, they didn’t even check before they started on her.” Dean pushes you forward and you nearly fall over. “She’s yours, for now at least. Unless you want to take a ride...”

“It’s your turn to go.” Sam looks to Dean for the first time.

Dean shrugs, snorting as he shakes his head. “Better you than me. She’s a fucking mess.”

“Leave her to me.” Sam watches you with interest, your eyes bulging wide with uncertainty. Dean grabs his saddlebags and heads out.

Moments later you’re alone with this new Alpha who’s circling you slowly, examining every inch of your battered skin. He moves as a predator, a wolf stalking its prey with slow, deliberate steps.

“Did they fuck you?” he asks.

“N-no,” you stammer, awash with both shame and paralyzing fear.

“But they did touch you?” He stops directly in front of you, looking at your breasts, then to the patch of hair between your legs.

“Yes. They touched me.” You don't know if you should look at him. Everything is a calculated choice. These sorts of men are volatile, he may not think you’re worthy to make eye contact. Further punishment is the last thing you can withstand, so you keep your eyes on the floor.

“I’ll deal with them in the morning.” He tilts his head, wiping off his hands with a cloth before tossing it on the table. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek. You don’t want to know.

“Samuel. The son of John Winchester,” he explains. You think you may vomit. Samuel Winchester. Of all the cruel twists of fate, this has to be one of the most merciless. You’ve heard of him, you can’t recall the specifics but you know his general reputation; brutal and sadistic. “The man who brought you here was my brother, Dean.” He pauses and you say nothing. “You lived in Hayward Village?”

“Yes,” you nod, sneaking a peek. He’s a beast of a man. All you can do now is pray he doesn’t kill you, or do irreparable damage.

“I need you to understand you’re never going back there,” he explains calmly.

Hayward never felt like your home. It was a place to hide, to fade into the background. But hearing him say that makes this all too real. You will never be the same again.

“I understand,” you confirm.

“The rest of your life will be very different. You’re the property of Gilead now. You belong to me. Do you understand?”

It’s clear you don’t like that declaration of ownership. Your eyes snap up to his, swallowing hard. It’s always difficult for Omegas to truly understand this new world order. It’s best to be up front. False hope only creates desperation. He doesn’t need you trying to run in the middle of the night.

He looks on with interest, the way you swallow your emotions, holding them back at all costs. In his experience not many women would be able to express such self control under these circumstances. You’re strong, whether you know it or not.

“I understand,” you agree quietly, unsuccessfully covering the tremor in your voice. “M-may I ask what I should call you?”

“Alpha,” Sam explains. “In Lebanon Omegas don’t use the names of their Alphas. It breeds familiarity and that can be a dangerous thing.”

You shift and squeal in pain, cradling your arm. Fresh tears fall. You’re in agony and he can’t have that. He needs you in working order.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Inching closer he tries to get a better look.

“I-I think i-it’s broken,” you sputter.

“One of the men did this?” His eyes narrow, displeased by the news. “Intentionally?”

The fucking men have been on his last nerve for weeks and now this. They think themselves equal. Deserving of such riches that they would cross this of all lines. It makes his blood boil.

“He threw me down from the horse. I don’t think he meant to hurt me.” You’re shaking, entire body rattling in cold and in pain.

“He should have been more careful. An Omega requires special handling. Come here, let me see it.” He sits down in a chair, his expression unflinching as he waits for you to move closer. “Move your hand so I can see the damage.”

You let go of your arm and howl as the bones shift, but he takes your elbow and wrist, holding them in a manner that offers the first relief you’ve felt in hours. It makes sense, he’s a soldier. He knows how to treat wounds on the battlefield. He’s seen a thousand broken bones worse than this.

“Here.” He carefully tightens his grip on your elbow, sliding his hand along your forearm until he’s holding it in place. He changes the position and you think you might vomit, the pain is so great. It’s making you sweat and squirm as he feels where the bone has snapped. “This is going to hurt.”

Before his words register, he pulls on your wrist and elbow at the same time, realigning the bone as the two pieces snap back into place with a sickening crack.

You scream, trying to pull back but he grabs you by the hair to keep you from retreating.

“You’ll be fine, calm down,” he orders. He doesn’t exactly care, but seeing a woman in pain doesn’t bring him pleasure like many of his men. In fact, it’s always made him uncomfortable.“I’ll find something to hold your arm in place. Sit down and don’t move.”

He points to the chair and you lower yourself into it, cradling your newly set arm, watching as he looks in trunks and sacks. Finding long, flat pieces of wood he kneels in front of you, and using a thin rope and cloth he secures the wood around your arm until it’s completely immobile.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

Your mind races. You need to give him something, anything but your real name. The hours in the forest come back to you. The wild things all around you, as you search for any name to give him. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Sparrow,” you sniffle, wiping tears from your cheek.

“Sparrow,” he repeats, looking up at you. “A fitting name given your broken wing.” One massive hand grips your knee and you jerk in surprise, looking him in the eyes. You almost forgot you were naked. “Do you know what’s expected of Omegas in my country?”

“I’ve heard stories but...no,” you answer honestly, looking at him as your heart breaks. You’ll never see your family again. Not that your father would ever take you back after this. There’s no coming back from being with a Winchester. If he did nothing more than talk to you, it would be a permanent black mark.

And if Sam knew who you were he’d kill you on the spot. You’re damned any way you look at it.

“You belong to us. The sooner you accept this, the easier things will be. You’re lucky, most of your village was killed. A half dozen were taken as servants. And you are the lone prize. The only thing worth the effort of that Godforsaken place.” Lucky. It’s a strange way to describe being driven from your home and nearly raped by a group of disgusting men. “Depending on how well you perform, you’ll be offered as a prize to a high ranking Alpha. Or perhaps you’re bound for greater things.”

Sam’s words are unmistakable. There’s a hunger in his eyes as he looks from your breasts down to the patch of hair between your thighs. One could find him handsome in other circumstances, but right now he’s simply terrifying. He’s large enough that he could easily take anything he wanted from you. His eyes burning with an intensity you can practically feel.

“I understand,” you whisper. “I’ll do my best.”

“You stink. I’ll have someone clean you up.” He stands, arms folded across his chest. “Then we’ll have a good look at you.”

The tent doesn’t feel like a temporary shelter set in the middle of a makeshift camp. There are clothes and weapons everywhere as if the two brothers have been here for months. Carefully marked maps are spread across a long wooden table. There are markers in the form of little metal horses across it. It’s a miniature version of the war raging on around them. There’s a treasure trove of valuable information here if you could get it to someone, but it’s a fool's errand. This is where your journey ends, you can feel it in your bones.

The only available woman in the camp is a gray-haired cook who bathes you while Sam watches from the corner of the room. The light of the fire licks across his face, his eyes never faltering as the old woman washes your hair and helps you scrub until the mud and grime are gone.

The cook helps you bathe and leaves in a rush, never looking up. She’s more terrified of him than you are, a fact that doesn’t escape you.

Sam was right, you’re beautiful underneath it all. Healthy Omegas have a glow about them, not that he’s seen a healthy one in years, but he remembers. Yours is faint but there’s a glimmer to you, like an aura emanating from your body. You’re holding your arm, with eyes trained on the floor but your head is held high, back straight despite the oppression of the situation. It’s that inner strength that fascinates him. You may be compliant or you might try to stab him in the middle of the night. There’s only one way to know for sure.

“May I have something to drink?” you ask, naked and dripping in front of the fire.

“Yes. What would you like?” He’s on his feet again, slinking closer with the stealth of cat “Wine? Water?”

“Tea. I’m very cold. Something to warm me up would be appreciated.”

He takes herbs from a pouch, grinding them into the bottom of a mug before adding hot water. Then he sits across the table watching you sip.

“You’re beautiful,” he asserts and your breath catches, fear churning. “And unclaimed. How is it that an Omega like you hasn’t been claimed already?”

The truth is that your father kept you under lock and key. And when he was forced to send you away, he picked the one place you’d be the least likely to cross paths with an Alpha.

“There were no Alphas in my village.” You explain the question away praying that's the end of it. A tingling sensation is blooming to life in your belly, dulling your senses. “What is in this tea?”

“Herbs to help with the pain. I broke a rib last year, it’s the only thing that brought relief.” His eyes drop to your tits, licking his lower lip. “We’re lucky my brother had to leave. You wouldn’t have lasted an hour. He would have knotted you the moment he realized how pristine you are.”

Your cheeks flush hot as you fight off tears. While you overheard crude talk in the village, it’s rare that any man has ever spoken so frankly to, or about you in such a way.

“Have you been with a man before?” You hesitate and he rolls his eyes. “I expect honest answers.”

“Yes,” you admit, feeling shame wash over you. At least he doesn’t know who you are, it would only serve to exacerbate your sins. A woman of your standing should be a chaste virgin, untouched by any man until her husband. But as a country girl from a small village its less of a transgression. Either way you think about it, the admission makes you feel like a whore.

“How many?” he asks.

Jesus, you’re not sure you can stand much more of this intimate questioning.

“Two.”

“Interesting.” A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, entertained by the confession. “Have you taken a knot?”

Your whole body goes tense, a fact that doesn’t escape him. You’re scared but with fear comes compliance. He’s good at reading people, maybe he won’t have to worry about you trying to slit his throat.

“No,” you whisper, barely audible. “I’ve never been with an Alpha.”

“Good.” His fingers strum the table. “I’ll be your first then.”

There, now it’s a sure thing. No more guessing. He plans to have you for himself, at least tonight. While he’s nowhere near the nightmare of men that had you envisioned earlier, there’s a darkness in him that’s simmering right there for anyone to see and it scares the daylights out of you.

“Will you open your legs for me?” he asks evenly. “Or will I have to have to show you who’s in charge?”

“Please don’t,” you beseech, looking to him in desperation.

“You don’t get that choice,” he counters, unhappy with any pushback.

“I’m just in so much pain.” Your voice is shaking, hand curled into a fist at your side. “I haven’t slept in days. If you would wait until morning, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give myself to you freely. I just...I’m not sure how much more I can take tonight. I’m so exhausted I can barely stay upright.”

He’s silent, contemplating your request. The men found you in the forest. You probably are exhausted. You could also be exaggerating, trying to buy yourself a little time before he fucks you. And yet he’s inclined to believe you. He can read the exhaustion on your face like the war maps on the table.

“How long were you in the forest?” he asks.

“Two days.”

“With no shoes and no cloak?”

“There was no time. When the men attacked my home I ran with what I had on, nothing more.”

“I see.” He sits back, rubbing over the pads of his fingers as he decides what to do. “You should sleep. You’re no good to me broken and delirious. You’ve already been mishandled enough.”

If you were any other Omega he’d have you gag on his cock and make you sleep on the floor next to his bed, but you have this smell about you. That sweet lingering scent he’s never encountered before. He wants to fuck you, see what it feels like to be inside you, to give you his knot.

“Thank you.” You close your eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that fall. “Thank you.”

“Are you still cold?” he asks gesturing at your bare tits.

“Yes,” you admit, embarrassed to the point of giving up as your nipples stand out like little pebbles. “I’ve been cold for days.”

“Then come to bed and I’ll warm you.” He gets up, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks to the bed farthest from the fire. He toes off his boots and drops his trousers to the floor, stepping out of them.

He’s a sight to behold. Long, lean muscle, just as powerful as you suspected. His cock is thick, bobbing just below his stomach. He fists himself, looking to you as you dutifully walk over to the bed, careful of your arm.

Has he changed his mind?

“Lay down,” he instructs, waiting as you shimmy under a heavy fur pelt. He pulls a small pillow from somewhere under the bed and places it beside you. “Turn on your side and rest your arm here.”

You do as he instructs, watching him with a wary eye as you settle into the bed.

Sam climbs in behind you, pressing hot, naked skin against your back, letting his erection poke at your buttocks.

“How is your arm?” he inquires as his mouth connects with your shoulder, open lips dragging over skin. Can this be happening? You jump as his teeth scrape over the back of your neck, praying that he’ll be true to his word and allow you time to recuperate.

“It’s not as painful as it was,” you admit, feeling your eyes fall heavy. Exhaustion trumps all. “The tea helped.”

“Good. Go to sleep, little bird. The next few weeks will be difficult ones for many reasons. You should rest when you can.”

His warning sends a thousand thoughts spiraling. A thick arm lays over your hip and you close your eyes as sleep overtakes you. For the first time in nearly three days, you’re allowed to rest.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester au #sam winchester smut

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loveafterthefact · 4 years

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Love After the Fact Chapter 2: First Sight

Lance sees Keith for the first time. It’s not as horrible as he expected... At least, not in the way he expected...

Note: This fic is 100% free from underage/ non-consensual sexual activity

First Previous Next

Adam, Lance’s attendant, opens the doors to the throne room with all his usual flair. “Presenting Emperor Zarkon and Empress Honerva of House Diabazaal, Prince Lotor and Princess Allura of House Daibazaal, Lord Yurak of House Kogane of Daibazaal, and Captain Takashi of House Shirogane of Daibazaal.”

And they enter. Adam leads them up the long blue carpet to the dais. Lance registers a frown when he meets his attendant's eyes. He raises a silver eyebrow. When the Altean reaches the dais, he whispers up to him, "Oh you'll see in a moment. You're gonna love this."

Lance finds his sister first, bypassing the Imperial couple -Who cares?- in favor of Allura. Beautiful, with the same silver-white hair as the rest of their family and her husband, Lotor. The other half of their parents’ bargain. Allura is already looking his way, beaming, delighted to see him. It’s been a deacphoeb since Lance has seen her. He wishes Romelle had been permitted to come, but she's not technically royalty. Not yet... Allura and Lotor really need to get on that.

Prince Lotor catches his eye and winks, grinning. Lance manages a small smile. Lotor can -and does- come off as smarmy, but the man has his moments. In the past year, the two princes have struck up a correspondence, already preparing for when they succeed their fathers. They’ve become fast friends.

And then... Lord Yorak. Smaller than most of his kind, shorter, more slender. Soft-looking violet fur, a long tail, feline ears poking out of thick black hair hanging in a braid down his back. The Galra’s eyes catch his attention: glittering like amethysts, there’s an intensity in them that makes Lance shiver. It scares him more than any physical threat the Galra might pose.

He wears Altean clothes, much the same as Lance's, though the detailing is black, red and gold. His gossamer cloak is red. His gloves are missing. The poor seamsmaster has already come to the Kings, crying about the future prince defiling their work.

Lance isn’t sure what to make of it.

Lord Yorak is positively diminutive compared to his companion, a mountain of a Galra, a wall of muscle and grey eyes staring directly at Lance. Lance notices how Adam edges closer to him when Captain Shirogane approaches. Apparently his attendant finds him scary too.

“Alfor, Coran, my old friends,” Emperor Zarkon booms, breaking Lance’s focus. “It’s been too long.” Alfor beams as if they hadn’t grown up learning how best to murder the other’s species. Lance knows from personal experience that they had. Milophoebs of war will do that. Looking to Lord Yorak again, Lance can still remember his lessons on where the Galra’s vital organs and major blood vessels are located. A part of him fears it might still come in handy.

“Welcome, Zarkon. It’s wonderful to have you all here. Truly, a day for celebration. Allow me to introduce my son, Crown Prince Lancel of Altea.” They’ve already met, but last time, it hadn’t been about him. It had been about Lotor and Allura. Now, his presence genuinely matters. Briefly. Only until the transaction -marriage- is complete.

Zarkon smiles. “Crown Prince Lancel, it is an honor. I know it is late, but allow me to say happy birthday. I hope you found your gift agreeable.” Lance came of age only a movement ago.

“Very much so, Emperor Zarkon.” Lance draws up a small smile, thinking of the fine bow and quiver of arrows in his room. “It was a wonderful gift. I hope to go hunting soon. I’m afraid I’ve been too busy to put it to use this past movement. I’m sure you can understand.” The emperor inclines his head graciously. He understands. A royal wedding requires an absurd amount of fanfare, pandering, and nonsense. “You have brought strangers to our hall. Would you be so kind as to introduce us?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive my negligence. However, if it is acceptable, I’d like Lord Yorak and Captain Shirogane to introduce themselves.”

“Yes, of course. Please, young Lord, step forward,” Alfor says. Lance wonders how his father speaks with such authority. Lance still sounds like a boy. He still feels like a boy. He’d become a man a movement ago.

The imperial couple steps aside, Lotor and Allura following suit with a wave and a smile, and the young lord approaches the dais, followed by the Captain.

Lance’s insides twist. The closer the lord gets, the smaller he seems to become. He’s actually a spot or two shorter than Lance himself. Not yet full-grown. Brutally young. He can’t possibly be of age by Galra standards. Likely only just barely by Altean standards, like Lance himself. Lance watches the intensity in those eyes fizzle out, fear taking its place, making him look even younger. The Galra’s eyes flicker up to him for a moment, and Lance tries his best for a reassuring smile. It’s okay. I’m scared too. I don’t blame you for this. Lance is about to marry this boy. A boy . A kit . He feels sick.

The smile seems to work, for a second later the lord composes himself, that fire returns, and he drops to one knee. The captain does the same, kneeling to the right and behind. They both place their right fist on their breast.

“Crown Prince Lancel of Altea, I am Lord Yorak of House Kogane of Daibazaal. It is a joy to finally meet you. Princess Allura has told me many wonderful things.” His voice isn’t terrible: quiet, maybe a little disused, flat. But there’s something in it that Lance finds pleasant.

“It is a joy to meet you as well, my lord. Whom have you brought with you?”

“This is Captain Takashi of House Shirogane of Daibazaal. I have brought him here with me as my familial witness in the absence of my mother. He is unrelated by blood, yet I do consider him my littermate. I pray you will find this agreeable.”

Lance slides his gaze to Alfor, who stares straight ahead, but flicks his hand. Lance understands. This is his decision. The one choice he might realistically get for himself today. And it’s still not much of a choice. He won’t make this kit stand by himself to be wed to a stranger in a strange land.

“Of course this is agreeable, Lord Yorak. Anyone that you consider family is by this day family of mine. You may both rise, and be welcome. You need never kneel before me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees Alfor nod, not in approval of Lance, but giving the men permission to do as Lance bids. Power is an illusion.

“Perhaps we might continue these salutations elsewhere while we have some time,” Coran suggests, speaking for the first time. Lance can hear the frown in his dad's voice. He glances to Adam, who meets his gaze, then gives Keith a pointed once-over. Lance nods. He sees it. He's noticed.

His future spouse is not ready for what's about to happen to him, but it's going to happen anyway. Immediately, a thousand thoughts and ideas spin themselves up in Lance's head. He imagines what his spouse will endure tonight at the banquet, how he will react to what is expected of them. He searches for work-arounds and way-outs. He needs to speak to Adam.

Keeping himself safe is not longer Lance's concern. His concern is this kit that is about to become his spouse.

"Prince Lancel?"

Lance starts, turning to his frowning fathers. "Yes? I apologize. My thoughts were elsewhere."

"We would like to take these salutations elsewhere. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Of course." Lance inclines his head, more than happy to get Lord Yorak away from the nosy courtiers.

“The drawing room is ready, your Majesties,” Adam confirms from his place beside the dais. Later, Lance will lead the future Galra Prince of Altea up the steps of this very dais, symbolizing his ascension into the royal family. Lance grinds his teeth. He is Crown Prince of Altea and this is his duty.

He meets the burning gaze of Lord Yorak, and the Galra nods, affirming that he is here, that he can handle what is about to happen. Lance can only hope the kit is right.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

Watch Yourself

Grouping: Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: ~7770

Warnings/Themes: Peeping Tom-ish/Voyeurism, Hoseok is a closetexhibitionist, (and apparently so it OC) public sex, fingering, so much boob stuff, penetrative sex, too much talk centered around Hob’s hands, this is basically just pwp guys that second p is questionable

Summary: It starts with an invitation from your ex. It ends with Hoseok’s hands down your pants in said ex’s kitchen.

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

tagging: @jeoneric @betysotelo18

There is something utterly sad about visiting the tiny local strip mall before 11am on a Saturday. Sadder yet is the fact that you are there by yourself, with no friend in sight. Said friend was supposed to come with you for moral support and to give his valued opinion on the swim wear you were there to buy. But, of course, something had to go wrong. Wonho, your fashion student friend, called you this morning to tell you that he pulled a muscle in his groin at the gym that same day and sent you a Snapchat of him in the campus clinic with an ice pack as proof.

As you pay for your tea for the morning from a small kiosk, you take in the fact that even the old ladies power walking around the floors of the mall and the elementary schoolers running to the arcade have their friends with them. You make a mental note to guilt trip Wonho a little bit when you see him next. Which will probably be at the pool party that necessitated this outing in the first place.

When you started attending your university, you came in with a high school sweetheart of sorts. Your ex had been one of the kindest guys you knew, albeit a little insecure. You thought he’d grow out of it, you were sure of it. But once he got accepted into his frat of choice after much ass-kissing, he changed. You endured it for 3 years too long before finally getting fed up in the middle of fall semester of your senior year. Since then, it had been smooth sailing, but also radio silence on your ex’s end.

It’s now the summer following your graduation and this invitation to his pool party seems to be coming from nowhere. Your friend Irene bluntly suggested it wasn’t because he really wanted you back in his life, but because he wanted to show off his new girlfriend to his old girlfriend. Your other friend, Monica, showed you the new girlfriend’s picture. She was pretty, into horses, and did charity on the weekends.

(1 week prior)

“She seems nice,” you sniffed at the image on Monica’s screen before cutting into your pancakes from your favorite brunch spot. They were a little too thick this time and the force of your cutting shook the little table you were all seated at.

“Her style is a little 2008,” Wonho commented as he scrolled through the pictures on the girl’s account. “I didn’t think people still did the tunic and black cropped leggings thing anymore.”

Irene pinned him with a dirty look. “Lots of people still do that. I do that.”

“Yeah, you do,” he frowned disapprovingly.

You and Monica watched Irene and Wonho bicker about statement belts for a moment before she turned to you abruptly, shoving the phone back in your face like a bad omen.

“You know you have to go to that pool party, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We said we were all thinking of going, right?”

“I mean, maybe. But you specifically need to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to show him that you’re onto him and that he made a huge mistake losing you.”

“But I don’t care about him anymore,” you said innocently through a bite of eggs.

‘It’s the principle of the thing,” she sighed. “Your bathing suit has to be amazing, none of this—this,” she waved her hands in the air as if trying to conjure up the right phrase, “monochromatic one-piece mess.”

“What’s wrong with my one-piece?”

“It doesn’t do any favors for your body.”

“Wait a second, I—”

“It’s true,” Wonho turned to you, eyes so serious they make you lose train of thought. “You have a great silhouette and you rarely do it justice.”

“Yeah,” Irene chimed in and gestured to your hoodie, “I’ve been meaning to ask you why you have so many of those...shirts.”

“For comfort, maybe? You guys ever heard of that?”

The three of them blinked owlishly at you before Monica reached out to pat your hand. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure this bathing suit thing out.”

You follow the various signs hanging down from the mall ceiling telling you the names of various shops and start browsing.

With your friend’s voices in your head, you try not to rely on your basic instincts too much and instead go to the stores you’ve heard Monica praise or seen Wonho shop at when buying clothes as birthday presents. You pass by one store you know all of your friends would approve of. But it positively reeks of sophistication and trendiness, so you circle the entire floor before eventually after coming back empty from the other stores. This one boutique has dim and flattering lighting and there’s an expensive smelling perfume wafting around the place when you push through the front door.

Instantly you get the urge to turn and walk out. All the other people in the store look like they walked out of fashion catalogs themselves. Even the employees refolding garments and waiting at the cash register are all perfectly proportioned, symmetrical, and statuesque. You thank the universe that you chose a neutral outfit: dark jeans Wonho bought for you after taking your measurements with painstaking care and a plain black tank top to beat the heat.

You consider sending a text to the group chat to ask for help when you enter the swimsuit section, but your pride and stubbornness rule that option out. So you just pick a bunch of swimsuits you think would look good on you and head over to the changing room. The attendant there is organizing the rack of returned garments and has his back to you when you enter the changing room hallway.

“How many items,” the attendant asks.

“It looks like I have 3,” you mutter after counting.

“Be right with you.”

You spend the time he takes to finish grouping items to take in his appearance.The back of his head and his voice are oddly familiar.

“Um, this might be a weird question, but are you Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?”

“I thought that was your voice.” The man in front of you turns and nods, a shy, but brilliant grin creeping onto his face. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you.”

Jung Hoseok had been one of your ex-boyfriend’s frat brothers and former “friend”. If there was no one closer around, your ex would hang out with Hoseok and a bunch of other guys not in his inner circle. And when there were closer guys around, you ex would ignore you. So you’d talk with Hoseok. He kept you company many a night when your boyfriend was nowhere to be found and you were alone at the frat parties you were only attending out of girlfriend loyalty.

From what you remember, Hoseok was an architecture and dance double major. He always had good jokes, good weed, and a flirty vibe about him. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you flirted back despite the fact that you were often around him as someone else’s date. But it never progressed into anything more. Not even after you broke up with your ex and were attending the parties to spite him briefly after the break up.

Hoseok would smoke you out and crowd you into the kitchen corner while you passed a blunt back and forth, exchanging banter and heated glances but nothing more. You spent more nights than you’re willing to confess to thinking about the comfortable press of his hand on the small of your back.

Now, he still looks the same as he did half a year ago, but with the addition of a golden tan from the part of the summer that’s already passed. He looks good in his impeccably white t-shirt and uniform slacks with his artfully tousled hair. Among the other model-like employees he fits right in. It’s a little unfair.

“You enjoying your summer,” he asks while giving you the perfunctory little card with a number 3 on it before leading you through a hall of changing rooms.

“Sort of. I moved into a new apartment with one of my friends, and we just finished getting settled. I’m gonna start teaching in the fall.”

“Teaching, huh? Whereabouts?” Hoseok selects one of the large fitting rooms all the way in the back. The ones that can fit packs of friends who are very invested in the outfit picking process.

“You know the Montessori school out by the northern part of the city?” He nods in recognition. “It’s that one.”

He lets out a low whistle at the mention of the small private elementary school that all the city’s most wealthy inhabitants bring their children to. “Sounds like it’ll be a good move, then. You’re living the dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head modestly as you linger in front of the changing room door. “What about you? Are you here for the summer?”

“For the summer,” he confirms, “Then I’m moving into the city too. Near the Big Hit park to work with a firm there.”

“Are you gonna be interning?”

“I’m gonna be leading a project with my own design, actually.”

“Oh, Hoseok, that’s great! It’s really early in the game too. You’re going places.”

“Yeah, its—” he stops to look around the area and takes a reluctant step back. You realize then just how close you two were standing to each other. “I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got friends waiting on you to pick something out.”

“Oh, you’re good. I came here by myself. My friends were supposed to help me get something, but they all...got busy.” You roll your eyes.

Hoseok returns to his station and continues organizing his area once more, but raises his voice so it carries to you. “That sucks. I’ve had stuff like that happen a few times.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he figures you’re busy changing. Almost instantly his thoughts gravitate towards your swimsuit choice, wondering what you picked out. Are you a fan of string bikinis or athletic cuts? His ears subconsciously strain for the rustling of clothes before he cuts the wandering thoughts short. He leaves to go get some extra work from his supervisor and give you privacy.

In the changing room, you’re having a bit of trouble. The first suit is nearly on, but won’t zip past your bust like it's supposed to. You underestimate your strength as you try to force the zipper up and end up ripping the tab off the little sliding bit. You let out a quiet curse before resolving to buy the suit since you broke it. Perhaps it was your fault for thinking you could fit into a size you normally never wear, though it looked like it would fit you when you draped it over your torso earlier. Unfortunately for you, there weren’t any larger sizes either.

Pulling the tag hanging off the side of the suit, you check the price curiously only to find that the suit bandeau is heinously expensive on its own. You have no idea how much the bottoms cost, but you’re fairly certain they’re sold separately. You panic at the thought of having to pay so much for the suit and fumble with the sliding body of the zipper again, trying to get the top off of you, but it won’t budge.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out with uncertainty. You’d heard footsteps leaving the fitting room area earlier, but you didn’t hear them return.

When you get only silence as a reply, you open the door to your changing stall and poke your head out. You’re about to tip toe out to hopefully flag down one of the women working in the front of the store when Hoseok walks back into the fitting room area. He’s busy with whatever is on his phone and doesn’t seem to see you at first. You curse to yourself, hoping he doesn’t see you. To keep an eye on him, you start to walk backwards towards your changing room, but your bare feet squeak loudly against the polished wooden floor.

He looks toward you in that moment to chase the sound. His hand holding his phone drops and eyes linger on your form for longer than could be considered merely professional appraisal and his head turns quickly once he realizes this. Inside his chest, his heart is flutters at the after image of you behind his eyelids. You look good. Really good. While he might think a broken zipper would ruin the look, the fact that the bandeau is only half zipped and straining to contain your breasts makes you look like a classic pinup.

It takes a conscious effort to stray from mentally retracing the path that your curves made in the suit. The voluptuous flare of your hips and shapely legs both grab his attention even more than the bright candy apple red fabric of the suit. He turns abruptly, about to act as though he’s needed in the stock room when your voice sounds out, embarrassed.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracks a little, suddenly flustered, and he covers it best he can with a low cough. “What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry but,” you avert your eyes as you walk forward. “I think I broke this suit.”

“Huh?” Your exposed skin looks soft in the gentle lighting of the hallway, and somehow the sight of it is loud enough to muffle your confession. “You broke something?”

“It’s the zipper on the top. I was gonna buy it since I broke it. But the suit is, like, a million dollars. Is there...any chance you can give me a friends and family discount?”

“Oh.” He jumps at the chance to go back to being a helpful professional person again. “That’s okay. I’ll just tell my boss that it broke off in handling. We just put those out today.”

Your eyes go round with hope. “I don’t have to buy it?”

“Nah,” he waves away your offer, eyes now glued to his own shoes. “I got it.”

“Really?” Your face lights up beautifully, relief softening your features. “That’s amazing, thank you.”

He watches for a brief moment while you go back into the changing room. Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly, with the way his day is going—your ass is amazing, if the way the suit stretches in an almost heart over the cheeks. His throat is suddenly very dry and he nearly downs the entire water bottle he keeps near his station. Hoseok is only allowed a few moments of silence to recover.

“Hey, um, do you...do you think you could come here?”

Faltering in his steps, he walks back down the hallway with a rising sense of suspicion. He’s not sure what will come next, but he knows deep in his gut it’ll be odd and possibly enough to get him fired. Still, he stands in front of the door with uncertainty roiling in his belly.

“What’s up?”

“Come in,” is all you say in a muted hiss.

His hand is sweating when he turns the knob leading into the changing room. He tries to open it cautiously, give himself enough time to peer in and give you time to cover anything you don’t want him to see. But you merely yank him in by the collar and shut the door quickly before locking it. At his wide-eyed, nervous expression you quickly move to make things less awkward.

“Sorry,” you toss over your shoulder while testing the door knob. “I know this is weird, but I can’t get the suit off. It’s too tight to pull over my head and the zipper won’t budge no matter how hard I pull on it. Can you...help?”

Hoseok can only nod in response with nerves halting his tongue. He approaches you slowly, making sure nothing he’s doing seems threatening. Or overly enthusiastic. You’re pressed against the door with your back to the exit and it doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between you two. You’re careful to keep your breathing light so as not to draw extra attention to your chest despite the fact that Hoseok is now eyeballing it like its a complicated puzzle.

“I think the only way to get it off is to just brute force the zipper,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

You wet your lips nervously and let out a shaky breath that you pray he’ll ignore.

“You might wanna, um, hold your...” he gestures vaguely at your ample cleavage. “So they don’t fall out if we get the top to open.”

Gingerly you cup your breasts to hold the fabric covering them together like he suggested. Hoseok brushes your fingers when he finally attempts to pull the zipper down for the first time. He mutters a quick apology and tries as best he can not to graze you again with his knuckles as his hand shakes. The other hand is behind his back, tightly fisted in effort to maintain his cool. From your vantage point, you can actually see his hand and the way the veins in his arm flash by looking at the mirror on the changing room wall.

A few more harsh tugs gets the zipper’s sliding body down the chain about halfway, but it’s not enough to get the straps of the suit off your arms.

“Maybe you should use two hands,” you hedge. He nods and holds the sides in one hand and the zipper with the other.

Hoseok lets out a steady breath before pulling the zipper down as hard as he can without ripping the suit. He can maybe fib to his boss about the zipper coming off, but not the top ripping in two. Luckily, the zipper stutters open wide enough for you to be able to slip it off now. The only problem is that you forgot to keep a firm grip on the halves of the top and your breasts almost spill completely out of the top.

You stand there, still holding your top up, and chance a look up at Hoseok. He’s gazing down at your chest but senses your gaze and locks eyes with you then. Something in the air between you changes, shifts, clicks. There’s an electricity that you can practically feel crackling under your skin and you take a step forward without thinking. Hoseok’s eyes fall closed as you approach, lashes fanning out prettily across the apples of his cheeks. Before you can chicken out, you ghost your lips over his slack mouth. It’s only a fleeting moment, but you still feel a jolt of something from the contact that has you letting out a small gasp.

Hoseok leans in to touch his forehead to yours almost as if he’s about to initiate another kiss, but a woman’s voice rings through the changing room area, letting him know that they need him to help his supervisor comb through the main part of the store and reset all the displays. Something about all the normal folders and floor monitors being out on their lunch break.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Just trying something on,” he lies.

He peers down at you again with a look that’s more subdued but still smoldering, eyes hooded dreamily, smoothing tingling palms against his work pants. Your cheeks heat up with the intensity of his stare, but you back away. The atmosphere isn’t quite the same after having the tenuous balance disrupted by his coworker. With your back against the door and so much of you still bared to him, you suddenly feel so vulnerable. Part of you is scared because that does something to your insides. Tying them up with excitement.

“I should go,” you sigh as he backs up.

He looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He slides back out while you’re collecting your actual clothes. When you finish changing, you shuffle passed Hoseok and purchase the expensive broken bathing suit with a grimace.

A few days later, Hoseok is in the main part of the store replacing some items that were knocked over by a careless customer when a coworker comes over and taps him on the shoulder.

“What’s up, man?”

“There’s a customer here who wants you to start a dressing room for her. She wants a selection of bathing suits, too.”

“Cool,” Hoseok hands the employee the clothes he was dealing with. “She say what size?”

The guy relays the size information to him and with that Hoseok makes his way to the bathing suit section to pick out a variety of styles in the right size. With his arms laden with different pieces, he heads back into the changing room area. It’s empty but that’s not unusual at this day and time. It was the store owner’s idea to make it so there weren’t ever that many employees working a shift at a time to give off a minimalist, unbothered vibe.

“Miss,” he calls out to the customer, looking for a sign of the woman by looking for her feet in the cracks of the stall doors. “I have some pieces for you to try. I’ll be right outside in case you don’t want anything or you want a different color. Or if you want to check out as well. I can ring you up.”

“Thanks,” your voice sounds from behind the final door of the hallway. You push open the door to reveal your face.

Hoseok’s cheeks bloom rosy from behind the tiny mountain of bathing suits he gathered unwittingly for you. A strong wave of deja vu washes over him as he’s taken back to the last time he saw you here. The memory of the (almost) kiss is still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday because, at this point, he’s replayed it in his mind dozens of times. A couple of those replays involved the tissue box and bottle of lotion he keeps by his bed. During those times the moment was stretched out and embellished thanks to his industrious imagination.

“I’ll take some of those,” you say with arms reaching to a portion of the suits. “You said you’d be nearby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Good.”

Like a doting assistant, Hoseok leans on the wall outside your stall, eyes pitching across all parts of the room to occupy his thoughts and time. His gaze bounces from the opposite end of the hallway where his post is normally, to the other stalls, to the mirror lining the wall adjacent to him. There he sees his reflection as well as a reflection of all the stalls. Small movement in the mirror catches his eye, a quick flash of skin. With a hesitant look back at your stall, he realizes the door is cracked. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of bare arm. A sliver of the mirror inside, through which he swears he sees you looking back at him.

He whips his head back to stare down the hallway, biting harshly on his tongue when the rustling of clothes stops and the sound of the door’s hinge gives a prolonged creak.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me that green one you have there and I’ll give this one back to you?”

“Oh,” he blinks. Surprised but relieved at the fact that you didn’t tear him a new one for being a peeping Tom. “S-sure.”

He looks away as best he can while handing you the suit you asked for before waiting patiently for you to remove and return the first one you tried. He wants to say something to you, ask about the other day and why you left so abruptly. Why you bought the suit that he said he would take care of. But all of that gets dashed away when his eyes wander instinctively back to your stall and the door is now half closed at best.

With the door angled like this, he can see your reflection perfectly from where he’s standing. You’d be naked if it weren’t for the delicate pair of underwear you’re wearing to safely try on the suits according to store policy. Hoseok can’t drag his eyes away from the sight of you examining the hunter green string bikini’s intricate tie system before attempting to put it on. The green bottoms lovingly hug the curves of your hips but leave little to the imagination with the way they’re bunched up. You skim your index fingers under the elastic of the bottoms to snap them back into place and cover more of your ass. He mourns the change in the view briefly before migrating up the slope of your bare back up to the loose strings dangling from the bikini top.

“Can you help me with this,” you give him a pout that he can’t say no to.

Suddenly he’s scrambling into the changing stall to put the clothes he was holding down on the small bench inside. He comes up behind you and recalls the intended weaving before deftly knotting the strings together in the right place. The end result is a pretty lattice pattern that contrasts with the simple triangles covering your breasts in the front. You test the support and bounce a little, cupping your chest lightly before letting out a pleased hum at Hoseok’s handiwork.

“What do you think?”

He gulps. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Your voice comes off as coy. You know you look better than nice, but inside you’re fighting the urge to gnaw at your lip self-consciously.

You knew that you were making a big gamble the moment you decided to request Hoseok as your personal shopper not even an hour ago. But ever since you rushed out of the shop a few days prior, the only thing you could think about was Hoseok. Hoseok and the way he looked at you. The way his palms trembled subtly as he reached for you that other day in the stall. The need was palpable and radiated from him like summer heat off dark concrete. It had been a long time since something like this made your breath hitch, and this was the mere memory alone. The memory itself was simultaneously addicting and not enough. So here you are, acting like you were filming a bad porno so you could chase that fleeting moment from last time. His supervisor wouldn’t be able to get you to back down this time even if she was banging on the stall door.

“I like it,” he mumbles quietly after some time.

“Me too. I’ll take it.” Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you watch his expression carefully. “Help me take it off?”

His mouth drops open just a bit. It’s such a small gesture that you might have missed if every instinct in you wasn’t curled tight with giddy lust. His fingers are feather-light against the skin of your back as he loosens the binds he just did. All the while his gaze never leaves yours in the mirror. Almost as if he’s trying to communicate with you. You give a miniscule nod and then he’s giving the final tug.

The bikini top slithers down your front into a cool, smooth pile of ribbon at your feet. You’re bare like the other day, but your back is almost proudly straight this time and you fall back against him easily.

His hand comes up to lay on your shoulder. The weight is bureaucratic and safe enough that for a second you’re expecting a rebuff.

“Are you sure you wanna do this here?” The tip of his nose skims gently near your temple. Your breath hitches in anticipation. “Because once you say the word, we’re doing this. And I’m not closing that fucking door. I wanna see you backup all that strutting around you’ve been doing.”

You nod again. A shaky breath leaves you and you reach a hand back to creep up his front, fingers grazing collar and tugging needy. He takes a few steps forward, forcing you to stumble forward as well, before placing both hands on your hips. His hands push into the plush skin exposed there as if to test your solidness. The grip is warm and firm as he pushes your hips out until you have to lean forward and brace both hands on the full-length mirror on the changing room wall for balance.

“I don’t want you looking around all distracted at the door. Only look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself and watch me with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh.

With that, he tugs down the bikini bottoms to reveal the underwear you had underneath. While you step out of the swimsuit bottoms and kick them to the side, he slides his hand down the front of your panties. The pads of his fingers part your folds easily with no resistance thanks to the copious amount of arousal already there.

“I’ve been thinking about how the other day would have played out if I never left for two days now,” you explain.

“You been touching yourself to it?”

“Yes,” your breath hitches when he swipes over your clit roughly.

“Me too.”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The sweetness of the gesture contrasts starkly with the obscene wet noises coming from where he plays with your wet center. It's not loud enough to compete with the music playing through the store. And definitely not enough to grab anyone’s if they were seated at Hoseok’s post at the end of the hallway. But you still have to fight the instinct to look back at the half open door of the changing stall to make sure no one will catch you.

“You paying attention?”

Your eyes refocus on the reflection in the mirror and zero in on the way Hoseok’s hand barely fits in your underwear. Still, his middle and ring fingers are obscured by the front of your underwear and all you can really see is the way his hand movements speed up. A second later the tightness of the figure eights he rubs into you registers in your core and the wave of pleasure that hits has your knees buckling slightly. Luckily you’re already holding onto something—the mirror.

The slick noises coming from your center get louder as more arousal leaks onto Hoseok’s rapidly moving fingers. In the mirror, you can see that his brow is furrowed in concentration, or perhaps subtly dialed back lust. Meanwhile, his mouth hangs open slightly in silent, sympathetic moans. He must sense your gaze on his face because he looks up then and locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“It feels good,” you whine out the last syllable when he flirts with your entrance for the first time. Already, you’re clenching around a phantom something, eager for things to speed up.

“That’s good.”

His response sounds nonchalant, but you can feel his hardness nudging against your ass if you push back enough. He’s careful to keep it away from you, though, so he can focus on you. It’s not exactly attention that you’re used to after so many years with your ex, but you welcome it all the same. Hoseok is attentive and competitive in the way that he seeks the things that accidentally draw moans from your parted lips. Soon enough, your arms are shaking from a combination of the effort of holding yourself up against the mirror and your first orgasm’s approach.

Hoseok is now grinding the heel of his other palm into your clit, fingertips pistoning against one spongy area of your walls after seeing the way you had you stuttering and your hands sliding a bit against the glass. The first hand wandered up your torso some time ago. He meandered a path along the soft valley of your stomach before coming to cup your breast. With your arousal still shining dully on his fingers, he tweaks your nipple until it draws up and out. Testing various pressures and grips, he finds a perfect rhythm of rolling and pinching that makes you clench around his other hand. His fingers are elegant and long, but not quite thick enough even in a pair. It drives you slightly crazy and you instinctively push your hips back to grind harder against him, mewling shamelessly.

“Please,” your plea comes out crumpled from in between ragged breaths. “I want you.”

“Hmm?” The sharp curl of Hoseok’s smile appears in the mirror. It matches the mean humor that sneaks in to his cooing tone. “You wanna be full?

You nod, cheeks warming from the begging. “I want your dick.”

“Someone’s greedy,” he pulls his fingers out, marveling at the squelching sound the motion makes. “Don’t want to get off on just fingers, huh? You wanna be stuffed full in the middle of this changing room where anyone could walk in and see you.”

You can only moan in affirmation as Hoseok finally tugs down his own bottoms and kicks them to the side. Your eyes take in his muscled legs, landing appreciatively on the line on his thighs where his tan stops and his shorts must have protected his skin from the sun one day. Hoseok spins the two of you then, while you’re lost in thought about how one of his thighs would feel between yours.

With your back against the wall, Hoseok nods to himself like he’s satisfied with his work and begins laying soft, wet kisses against the skin of your throat. He pulls back only to slowly peel off his work shirt, teasing you with the slow exposure of his equally toned torso. You have a nice view of the way back muscles flex under smooth skin now that he’s facing away from the mirror.

“Watch yourself carefully this time,” he warns you with a hand on your chin to direct your gaze to his momentarily.

When he’s sure you’re watching your reflection obediently, he returns to your breasts. He really does think they’re a work of art. So he recites a soundless sonnet to them, tongue flitting against each twin peak with ardor. Your skin becomes almost blotchy in the heat of your moment. Heeding Hoseok’s words, you take in your appearance.

With a heaving chest and parted lips, you look wanton to say the least. Your eyes are at half mast and fighting against the pleasure Hoseok’s plucking fingers bring. Then you see him reaching down to grasp himself before turning to smirk at the mirror, almost as if he’s giving another audience you weren’t aware of, a show.

There’s not much warning. There’s only the gentle nudge of his knees tapping your already lax ones apart before he’s hitching one of your legs over his slender hips. In his grasp, the head of his erection runs along the length of your center. He’s hot and swollen against you, smearing precum on your folds on his journey to your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he bites out with the same soft incredulity as a curse. His head pops up so he can pin you with a pleading look, almost like he can’t believe you’re you. “What if someone saw you like this? All spread open and dripping for me.”

“Maybe I—ah—wouldn’t mind.” You watch your own hand come up to thread through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You tug gently on it like its a lifeline as he lines himself up, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. “Mmh, fuck.”

He takes his time bottoming out to make sure you have time to see your expression evolve as you encounter every ridge and swell of him. The stretch has your eyes rolling back, but you don’t let yourself close them. Instead you take in the way your breasts bounce now that Hoseok has begun pumping into you experimentally. The force of his thrusts causes the walls of the changing stall to rattle loudly and for a fraction of a second you worry someone—a customer or another employee seeking assistance with something—might hear the noise and try to see what the source was.

But then your leg is lifted a bit higher and the angle changes. Suddenly he’s going deeper, stretching you slightly more, all the while your clit is bombarded with the brush of his pelvis with every stroke. The leg you have on the ground shakes from the intense bolt of pleasure and you let out a desperate moan.

“Hoseok, oh my god, I’m—you feel so good,” you do the best you can to keep your voice low.

“I can’t hear you. Louder.”

“I said you feel good.”

“Where?”

“In-inside me. I can feel all of you and I’m so...you stretch me out so good,” you pant out.

“Are you close?” His teeth are gritted with the effort it takes to push back his own oncoming orgasm. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I just need—”

Before you can finish, Hoseok is tapping lightly on your lips, pulling the bottom one from between your teeth. You open up and take his thumb and suck it. Once he’s sure its wet enough, he lingers for a few beats to enjoy the feeling of your tongue lapping at him. Then he’s collecting his hand back with a pop and snakes it down between your two writhing bodies. The effect of his spit-slick finger against your clit while he continues to plow into you is instant. It’s just the thing you needed to really kick things into overdrive. Soon you’re chasing the glorious feeling by bringing him in impossibly closer with two hands on his petite ass and by flexing the thigh you had holding his hips in place. In this position, he’s too constricted to really move in and out, so he adapts and begins a rough, circular grind.

The moans you let out are high and breathy, inappropriately loud, and your eyes dart back to your reflection just in time to see your pornographic expression. Hoseok seems to enjoy it too as he leans in to nuzzle at your forehead before cupping your face in one hand and bringing you in to kiss you sweetly. You’re not sure how he manages to make sweet the amount of tongue he’s using, but it works and you sigh dreamily against his lips.

Your orgasm surges through you again when he surprises you and sucks on your tongue. He pulls back then and watches with awe coloring his face. Or perhaps it's the fluorescents and the light sheen of sweat. Either way, the sight of you has him pulsing inside your already convulsing walls. With quick reflexes, he’s pulling out and replacing his dick with three fingers. He strokes himself—slowly to stay hard but not to bring himself to climax just yet—and watches you come down from your high.

When you’re done, you let your leg flop down from its perch on his hip bone. You’re a little wobbly from holding the pose for so long and you fall to your feet gracelessly, not thinking about how disgusting the floors may be. It’s then that you’re able to really look at Hoseok’s dick for the first time when you’re basically at eye level with it.

“Where do you wanna come?” Your eyes look impossibly large from where he’s standing and for a moment he almost answers ‘your face’ before your cleavage grabs his attention.

He mumbles then, ducking his head as his cheeks flush prettily.

“What?”

“...On your tits,” he gulps, not sure of your response.

You merely cross your arms under your breasts to lift them. A disbelieving little laugh leaves him before he’s kneeling down in front of you. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s better than it was when he was standing. He reaches out then and rubs fondly at the area where your shoulder and neck meet with one hand while pumping himself with the other.

It doesn’t take long. Hoseok’s been rock hard since he realized the changing room door wasn’t closed and the fact that you just agreed to let him come on your boobs almost made him swallow his tongue. They’re really something, he thinks to himself. They look soft and he knows if he stuck his face in between them, they’d smell good too if your perfume from the other day when you walked by him is any indication. They’re the perfect size, too. His hips stutter in their rhythm as he thinks about all the other things he could be doing to them. He could be fucking them while you hold them for him. Or, If you let him, he’d spend hours just lapping at them until they were sensitive enough to have you squealing under him. He bites down on his tongue and speeds up his strokes while imagining nipping at you, sucking bruises into the warm skin of your chest.

“I’m—now,” he chokes out before spilling over your breasts. His eyes closed momentarily when the high first hit him, but he opens them quickly enough to see one of the last spurts shoot out and paint a nipple white. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He collapses into his own pile of exhausted limbs in front of you and grabs at the boxers he was wearing earlier. Like a switch has been flipped, the environment changes. It’s not exactly awkward but everything feels fragile and tentative all of the sudden.

Leaning forward, his wipes the remnants of his release off your chest. The two of you make shy eye contact a few times while he’s in your personal space. He hesitates a bit before leaning closer to slot his lips over yours. The kiss is heated, but not overly passionate. A simmer. Soon he’s wiping his hands before tossing away the soiled underwear and gingerly cupping your face in both his warm hands. He kisses you so thoroughly, so well that you end up unconsciously chasing his lips once he pulls away.

“Good?” He chuckles when you finally open your eyes. You’re not sure when you closed them.

“It was alright,” you sniff. “But I think you might have to do that again some time, ‘cause I’m not 100% sure.” He grins and swipes a thumb over your cheek.

“Name a time and a place and I’m there.”

“What about Saturday at 2,” you blurt out.

“Oh, uh, that’s very specific—”

“Sorry! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanted to go to this...thing with me. It’s a party at my ex’s house and I thought it might be less painful if,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed at your speediness. You don’t even know if Hoseok wants anything more than hookups and here you are asking him to be your plus one to a pool party.

“It’s specific, but I’m free. Should I bring my swimsuit?” Your answering smile is infectious and he can’t help but kiss at it briefly.

“Of course. I’m bringing mine,” you mumble between his lips. “I gotta pay for it first.”

“You’re really wearing the green one?”

“Yeah. It’s my color and it makes my boobs look nice.”

“True,” he nods seriously. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and I’ll ring you up.”

While you’re clothed and at the register, you fight to ignore the knowing stares of a few of the other people working on the floor. Hoseok seems unphased by their looks and actually seems to be glowing. He hums and smiles to himself while carefully folding and wrapping your bathing suit in some tissue paper. When he turns the little monitor around for your to pay with your card, he’s still humming to himself.

“I get off for the day in half and hour,” he blurts out while you sign for the bathing suit.

“Is that so,” you humor him and raise an intrigued looking eyebrow.

“Yeah, so, uh...” The girl who’s behind the counter with Hoseok and had been collecting hangers snorts to herself at Hoseok’s sudden shy disposition. “If you’re gonna be around, I can show you the best place to eat in the food court. If you’re hungry, I mean.”

You pretend to mull it over while putting your card back in your wallet. “Alright. But I don’t eat mall pizza.”

“Hoseok,” you hiss as he presses himself against your backside while you search your ex’s kitchen for more plastic cups. “Someone will see us.”

“I don’t care,” he grinds against you, displacing your bottoms enough to expose the entire left globe of your ass. “I hope someone does. I hope he does.”

You turn around then, hoping to disrupt his fun, but he just brings both his hands to cup your breasts. The little green triangles do little to protect your modesty and, if anything, made his hands itch even more to touch you. He squeezes them in his hands, and when you don’t say anything, he pushes the material up and over them. Like he expected, your nipples are hard and have been since he started eye-fucking you earlier from across the pool.

“You’re insane,” you gasp. Partly because you’re functionally topless when any one of the partygoers, including your friends, could come around the corner in search of ice. And partly because Hoseok has latched onto one of your breasts and is now suckling at one nipple. “It’s like you—oh—want to get caught.”

He pulls off just long enough to speak. “Why should I care if anyone sees me making you feel good.”

“You know, in hindsight, I should have realized you have a thing about public sex.”

“You really should have. I gave you all the signs.” He has enough manners to shift so he’s covering you should anyone walk into the kitchen. His hand slides into your bathing suit bottoms, fingers immediately getting coated with your slick. “But it feels like you might be a little exhibitionist yourself.”

The sound of Monica and Irene laughing in the next room has your whole body tensing up with nerves, but it also has you sucking his fingers deeper into your center. Footsteps of more people who probably want a break from the sun enter the room, some sounding dangerously close.

“Oh god,” your head falls forward onto his shoulder as the wet sounds of your pussy get louder as he massages your clit. “Hoseok, we’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” He starts kissing your cheek, making a path to your mouth. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

#bscproject #btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenario #bts imagines #hoseok imagine #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Tremor III

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen (may wibble upwards into AO3′s Mature later) Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Scott Tracy, The Hood

Here we go again! This week our sense is Hear from @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday challenge. Part 1 | Part 2

I think it’s time to wake Scott up, although he might disagree with me on that one. While there’s nothing overly graphic, there are depictions of torture in this part.

There was the hum of machinery all around him and passing through him. Some sort of engine, a monster of a beast from the low rumble. It wasn’t the rumble of a Thunderbird; not even Thunderbird Two’s acoustics reached quite as low as this. Certainly, it was nothing like the comforting cry of his own ‘bird.

He shifted, his back resting on something solidly uncomfortable, and there was a heavy clink, like metal hitting metal. Attempts to pull his arms to his sides – why were they above his head, he never slept like that – resulted in a louder clank and he was forced to stop moving by pressure on his wrists. That didn’t bode well.

Where was he? This could be one of Gordon’s pranks, but Gordon knew better than to mess around on a mission, and the last he could recall, he’d been on a rescue. A collapsed mine, a distressed woman, and then- he’d been attacked?

He stilled, running through everything he knew again. He was lying on something hard and unforgiving, with only a thin layer of what felt like rough cotton between his back and the surface. His uniform was gone, as well as anything else he’d been wearing from what he could tell, and there were chains holding his wrists in place. A heavy weight on his ankles suggested that his feet were similarly restrained, legs splayed just past the edge of what would be comfortable. All in all, not a favourable position to be in.

There were other little noises, barely audible over the thrum of engines. A shuffle, the almost silent passage of air in and out of someone’s mouth. Wherever he was, he wasn’t alone.

“I trust your sleep was pleasant?”

Scott considered feigning further unconsciousness. If he didn’t respond, they might just leave him alone and he could work out how best to get himself out of the predicament he’d ended up in. Even if he was no longer wearing his uniform, it should be nearby, and if nothing else John would be tracking it.

“Come, now, Scott,” the voice continued. It was male, silky, coaxing. The sort of thing he heard from the businessmen he trusted the least. It was also bordering on familiar. “You and I both know you’re awake.” He was sure he’d heard that voice before, somewhere. If he could just remember where… “If you wish,” the man continued, “I’ll let you know where you are. You’re currently in one of the sections of my ship; I must apologise for the accommodation – I don’t often entertain guests.”

That told him nothing new, which he suspected was the purpose. Offering useless information to bait him in was a common tactic, and one he’d pulled on younger brothers when required.

His companion sighed.

“A conversation ideally requires more than one participant,” he said neutrally. “Of course, we could get down to business without preliminary small talk, but that would be so impolite. What would your father think?”

A rush of rage flowed through Scott. Who was this man to talk about Dad so casually, so familiarly? How dare he-

All of a sudden, he realised where he knew the voice from, and something unpleasant coiled in his gut. Reluctantly, he pried his eyes open, squinting against the bright light directly above him, and looked over to his side.

The Hood was not someone he’d ever met in person, but he’d watched the Zero-X footage a thousand times, with the same, slimy bald head and drawn cheeks etching themselves into his mind over and over again until he invaded his dreams. This was the man that killed Dad, and – Scott’s stomach lurched – now he was at his mercy. He didn’t think the Hood had much of that.

“Ah, much better,” the Hood said lightly, a patronising smirk twisting his features. There was nothing remotely pleasing to the eye about the entire visage. “We have much to discuss, after all.”

“We have nothing to discuss,” Scott snapped back, his voice still laden with the rasp of groggy awakening. Hazel eyes, a sickly green-yellow rather than Kayo’s much warmer, kinder, gaze, took on a glint of amusement.

“Oh, I assure you we do,” the Hood responded, inspecting his hands lightly. “I think we should begin with the exact nature of your so-called ‘Eye in the Sky’.”

Thunderbird Five. John.

“A space station of some sort?” the man continued, as though he was discussing the weather and not threatening his younger brother. “Presumably one with a Thunderbird callsign, like the rest of your admittedly impressive fleet. Let’s see… a Thunderbird Five?”

Scott glared at him, hoping he couldn’t hear his heart thumping. It was all conjecture, understandable leaps of logic. He didn’t actually know anything, he was just trying to get a reaction from him, to see how close his theories were to the truth. Scott refused to let him know how accurate his guess was.

“You killed Dad,” he accused. “Why would I tell you anything?”

The Hood gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Misunderstandings and defamation of character,” he said with an exaggerated patience. “I did not kill Jeff. He was not invited to join the show, nor did I force him to remain on the ship instead of bailing like a sensible individual. Your father’s tragic demise was entirely of his own creation, I’m afraid. Oh, don’t give me that look. Glaring doesn’t change the truth. He could have saved his own skin at any time, and you know it, Scott.”

His name falling as slick as oil from those thin, bloodless lips did nothing to improve Scott’s mood, and not for the first time, he wished glaring daggers was a more literal description. Anything to get this man away from him, saying half-truths as though they were gospel with a honeyed tongue.

“But we’re not here to discuss the tragedy that was the Zero-X,” the Hood continued, “although I would be willing to commiserate Jeff’s life with you after we get the business out of the way. After all, he was my friend.”

“Liar!” Scott spat, without thinking. “Dad would never be friends with, with-”

“With me?” the Hood finished, leaning forwards and delicately taking hold of his chin. His fingers were spindly and just warm enough to be living, but slimy and raised goosebumps where they touched his skin. “Oh, Scott, don’t you remember me? Captain Taylor might have been awarded with the title of godfather, but I held you back when you were an infant before he ever met you. I dare say the man’s still never got his own godson’s name right.”

It was phrased as an observation, but there was a questioning tilt at the end of the sentence. Scott set his jaw and didn’t answer. That couldn’t be right. He was lying – he was a crook, lying was what he did best.

“Oh, Lucille was never my biggest fan,” the Hood continued when it became apparent he had no intention of confirming or denying. “But you adored me, always crawling to my feet whenever I walked in the house. Never in anything more than a nappy – oh, I’m speaking to an American, diaper. You weren’t the biggest fan of clothing, as I recall.”

Scott felt sick, although he kept his glare up, jaw set against saying anything and waiting for the spidery fingers to release their feather-light touch on his face. His parents and grandparents alike had commented more than once on infant-Scott’s protests against clothes, reminding him as a child whenever he despaired over Gordon’s similar dislike over wearing anything. How the Hood knew that – if it wasn’t a lucky guess – he didn’t want to know.

Those weren’t the sort of details available to the public.

“But we can reminisce later,” the Hood said, finally taking his fingers away. “Business before pleasure, of course. So, International Rescue’s Eye in the Sky?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” he spat, and the Hood sighed.

“Such melodramatics.” He shook his head. “I must say it gives me no pleasure to do this.” There was a glint in his eye that told Scott he was lying, but before he could begin to determine what this was, his wrists burned like a wildfire, shocks streaking down his arms and contracting the muscles involuntarily.

It lasted no time at all, but to Scott’s dismay he was panting, forcing his muscles to relax again.

That gleam was still there when the Hood gripped hold of his chin again, fingers pressing in to the delicate flesh under his jaw, and forced him to face him again. He didn’t remember looking away.

“I’m afraid I can’t accept no for an answer,” he said, voice still in the smooth businessman tones. “If you won’t tell me willingly, I have no choice but to resort to somewhat harsher methods. I will ask you again: tell me all about your Eye in the Sky.”

“Go to hell!” Scott spat, tensing up in anticipation of another shock. None came, and the Hood gave a grin that would have looked more at home on a tiger as he retracted his hand again.

“Now why would I want to do that?” He checked his watch, a flash of gold, and hummed. “I’m afraid I will have to bring our conversation to an end for the moment. My attention is required elsewhere.” Scott watched him stand, brushing invisible lint from his suit. “We shall resume later.”

The door was out of Scott’s line of sight, but he heard it lock and relaxed. Time to find-

Pain lanced through him, electricity dancing through his muscles and once again forcibly contracting them. He clenched his teeth through the pain, his back arching away from the table and his limbs coming up short against the clinking of chains. Unlike the first dose, it didn’t cease after a split second, instead wracking his body into spasms. He couldn’t breathe, it hurt, it burned, he couldn’t breathe.

Black spots danced in his vision and somewhere there was a keening sound, like a distant scream. He couldn’t breathe, his nerves were on fire, his body wouldn’t listen to him-

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped again, leaving him heaving for breath and blinking away the black spots. His back cautiously lowered to the probably-table he was chained to, and oh so slowly, he got his trembling limbs back under control. He had to escape; while he had every faith that John and Kayo would find him, he couldn’t just lay back and wait. Not with taser-infused chains that needed no clear provocation to activate.

Given their resistance to his pain-induced thrashing, it was unlikely that the chains would break easily, but with nothing else to go on, Scott forced his aching arm to extend until his hand to wrap around the chain linked to him and tugged. There was a rattle, but no give.

Clenching his teeth, Scott tried again. And again. And again.

There was the hiss of an opening door and he dropped the chain as though it burned. Hurried footsteps, unlike the calm and measured ones of the Hood, approached him until a person with a ridiculous mask over their head was stood next to him. He couldn’t see where they were looking exactly, but the helmet moved in a slow turn, giving off the appearance of taking in his entire restrained – and, oh, undressed – self, before settling on his face.

“Water,” a heavily disguised voice said, holding up a clear plastic bottle in front of his face. Scott opened his mouth to point out that he was hardly in a position to drink, but before he could say anything, the cap was popped off and the water upended over his mouth.

Unprepared, and in what was quite possibly the worst position, there was nothing Scott could do except splutter and choke as some of the miniature deluge found its way down his throat. There was no way to breathe, no way to escape – attempts to turn his head sideways, out of the path of the water were thwarted by a large hand gripping his chin with none of the Hood’s faux finesse and forcing his mouth open.

Then the water was gone, and he was coughing and choking in an effort to keep it out from his lungs. Water erupted onto his face, running off his cheeks like tears, and he turned his head to the side, vomiting up what he could. The masked person was gone by the time he got control of himself again, now uncomfortably aware of the rough cotton below him absorbing the moisture and turning damp.

The chains on his wrist flared up again, and he had a split second to panic about the water dripping off of him and into the material below him before his awareness sharply narrowed to agony, can’t breathe, muscles wound tighter than a spring and his vision alternating black and white as that background keening started again.

Him, he realised dimly when the pain came to an abrupt end, leaving him gasping and heaving.

“I trust you’ve had some time to reconsider.” The Hood’s silky tones draped over him as the man himself stepped back into view. How much time had passed? Scott didn’t think it had been that long, but he had no way to tell the time. Any attempts at keeping track mentally had been well and truly thrown off. “I would rather dispense with this uncouth method and discuss this civilly.”

Scott spat some leftover water at him as he carefully persuaded his muscles to unclench, one group at a time, and took some glee in the fact it landed on his face. Aside from the twitch of a brow, there was no response.

“We were discussing your Eye in the Sky?” the Hood prompted instead, just as he managed to release the tension from his left calf. Scott turned his head away and a sharp burst of electricity shot up from his left ankle, jerking his leg taut again and travelling up to his hips before fading away. “It’s polite to look at someone when they’re talking to you, Scott. I’m sure your father taught you that. Your mother certainly would have.”

Scott reluctantly rolled his head over to glare at him, once again trying to unwind his leg muscles.

“You don’t get to talk about my parents,” he rasped, throat unpleasantly raw. He tried not to think about that.

“I would prefer to address International Rescue,” the Hood reminded him. Scott shut his mouth and glowered at him. “Really, Scott? I was hoping to have a mature conversation with an adult; who knew the commander of International Rescue was such a child? I imagine you’ll be sticking your tongue out at me next?”

Scott refused to rise to the bait, and the Hood sighed.

“No matter,” he said. “We have time.” Scott inwardly scoffed. His family would arrive soon, even if he couldn’t get himself free any time soon. He only had to hold out until then.

He had military training. He could do that.

The Hood headed for the door again, calm and measured footsteps that stopped just out of his sight.

“Oh, and Scott? Everything you had on you was left by the mine.” Scott suddenly felt very cold. His tech, his trackers… “I do hope you weren’t expecting a rescue.” Without those, they couldn’t track him. The Hood’s ship had constantly evaded everything they had for eight years now – it had been a point of contention for John and Kayo alike.

The Hood made a noise that was clearly amused.

“You were? Oh, dear, Scott. It’s a good thing I told you – we wouldn’t want you clinging to some false hope, would we?” Scott barely listened to him, dread pooling in his gut.

He had to get out of there.

The door hissed shut, locking with a thud, and for the first time, he felt truly trapped.

Part IV

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #the hood #tremor

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