#In the way he shows quiet support and a stern shoulder to lean upon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiui · 3 years

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Heey saw requests were open so I couldn't help but come check out and ask! Will you be okay if you do a Xiao, Zhongli, Diluc and Childe with a S/O who tries to took a hit for them from getting killed by an enemy?

Xiao, Zhongli, Diluc, and Childe with an S/O who Shields Them From an Attack

☁️ Xiao ☁️

You dragged him along so that he could get some fresh air and help you with your commissions. Xiao would rather stay inside, but you seemed to want to spend time with him so it’s hard to object.

Xiao definitely tried to avoid going with you, but you had kissed his cheek and said it’s more fun if he accompanies you. His weak heart agreed right away.

So not only is he there to provide moral support and company, he’s also there to make sure you’re not going to do anything foolish.

He’s already defeated multiple enemies while you looked through crates for extra materials. If he were mortal, your carelessness probably would’ve shaved a few years off of his life.

He keeps telling you to pay attention and you say you are, but then you turn away and next thing you know an arrow comes whizzing past you.

Xiao’s picking up a damaged mask from the grassy ground, wiping the grime from it, when your shout alerts him. And before he knows it you’re tackling him to the ground.

He’s surprised and a little angry, snapping at you to be more careful. Your grip on his shirt tightens and he wonders what’s gotten into you.

When Xiao places his hand upon your back and finds the arrow sticking out of it, he freezes. You just...shielded him from an attack. And in the process you ended up getting hurt.

Warm blood coats his fingers and you’re doing all that you can to avoid bursting into tears in front of the stern adeptus. He sits up with you, wasting no time in swiftly defeating the archer hilichurl. His anger can be felt in the way he attacks mercilessly, showing no sign of letting up until the hilichurl has fallen to the ground.

Xiao can’t believe you, a mortal, would shield him, an immortal, from an arrow. He knows you love him, but to so readily take a hit for him—it’s surprising.

“You...” He wants to call you stupid, but you were only thinking of his safety. Instead he chooses to pacify you rather than berating you for something that has already happened. “You’re going to be okay. It doesn’t look that bad.”

He tends to your injuries to the best of his ability and then will bring you back to Wangshu for further inspection. Once the arrow is pulled out and your injury is cleaned and bandaged, tears finally spring from your eyes. It really, really hurts and you feel bad for making Xiao worry on your behalf.

He’s just relieved you’ll heal normally. But in the future he doesn’t want you to endanger yourself for his sake. After all, he’ll be perfectly fine if he takes a hit that would be fatal to most.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” you admit, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re an adeptus, but it would’ve hurt me more if I’d just let you get hit.”

Xiao sighs, taking your hand in his. “I guess it’s fine... Just don’t do it again, okay?” Deep inside, he’s truly touched that you would throw yourself in front of danger just to protect him, but he doesn’t want this to become a recurring thing for you.

🔶 Zhongli 🔶

You had taken Zhongli out to find some Cor Lapis and other ores you were in desperate need of. He suggested buying them from the locals, but he didn’t bring any Mora and you knew of a few abandoned mines where you could get them for free.

With that logic cemented into place, you and Zhongli headed off for the areas you had marked on your map.

It wasn’t a difficult trip; the two of you worked diligently in clearing any enemies that got in your way and eventually you had made it to the first cave.

Zhongli was reciting the history of Liyue caves and their monetary benefits while you climbed over rubble and debris from past accidents. You’d almost tripped once, but he had caught you out of reflex, seemingly unbothered with your clumsiness.

All was going well. You’d mined a lot of ores with Zhongli’s help and the two of you were about to move onto the next cave when the ground above seemed to shake. Briefly, you glanced up, wondering what could be causing such a disturbance.

“We should be careful. There might be a Ruin Hunter around,” you told him as you navigated through the winding tunnel. Zhongli nodded in agreement with that, easily stepping over fallen stones.

Before you knew what was happening, the entire cave was shaking as another loud explosion resonated from above. Debris from above trickled down like snow and you cowered for a moment, expecting a cave-in.

It was silent for a few minutes and you figured the threat must’ve passed. Zhongli waited for a moment as he listened to the silent, musty air.

Just as you breathed your sigh of relief, the ground shook ten times harder than before, and stones larger than the ores you had mined were raining down at once.

The initial shock was more than enough to have you running for the entrance, pulling a very confused Zhongli along. A stone larger than your foot comes falling, and it’s about to hit Zhongli on the head.

To avoid an accident, you shove him to the front and the rock hits you instead of him. Luckily, it wasn’t on the head, but it did hit your ankle hard.

You’re worried you’ve sprained it after you fall to the ground, more stones pelting you. The next thing you know, Zhongli picks you up in his arms and carries you out of the cave before it can collapse entirely on the both of you.

Concerned for your safety, Zhongli observes your injuries. You’re bruised and your ankle does look sprained. He asks if you can stand and when you try he frowns. It looks like you’re going to need to rest up for a few days.

Zhongli will help you the rest of the way back, occasionally stopping so you can give your legs a rest. He expresses his gratitude and is rather surprised that you would go out of your way to take the hits of many stones and rocks.

Despite being thankful, Zhongli hopes you won’t do this again because he doesn’t like to see you in pain. If you’re hurt, he feels hurt and that’s the last thing he wants.

🔥 Diluc 🔥

A group of slimes were hanging around the winery again and so Diluc went off to deal with the problem. He didn’t expect there to be so many, though.

You had tagged along just in case something like this were to happen. And even though Diluc is strong enough to handle so many enemies, these slimes just kept coming.

It was difficult to deal with all sorts of different slimes: Electro, Anemo, and even Cryo. Despite the fact that he didn’t want you to endanger yourself—he insisted he could handle it—you still did what you could to help.

Once you were certain all the slimes were defeated, Diluc sighed, leaning against his weapon to relax after so much fighting. His back was turned and he didn’t notice the large slime creeping up on him.

You jumped in just in time to prevent the slime from hurting him. It had been a quick reaction, one that you hadn’t thought through entirely.

The Cryo slime is freezing to the touch and as soon as it hits you an icy cold envelops you. You try to look strong in front of Diluc, but it’s just too much and you fall to your knees, shivering while the slime looms over you.

Diluc witnessed the entire thing when he first noticed you jump into action and he’s very surprised to find that last slime. He defeats it at once before dropping down to check your injuries.

You aren’t exactly wounded, but you are very cold. He’s ashamed at himself for not paying closer attention to his surroundings.

While Diluc is grateful that you protected him, he’s disappointed that you’d put yourself in harm’s way. You should’ve just let the slime hit him.

He sheds his coat and drapes it over you, using his own Pyro element to start a fire that’ll have you warm in no time.

“You didn’t have to do that. But...thank you. Next time don’t do anything reckless. You’ll hurt yourself,” he says while checking your body temperature.

“But I wanted to keep you safe, Diluc! You already defeated so many slimes. That last one could’ve done some serious damage.”

He’s touched that you’d worry about him, but he doesn’t want you to do something like that again. It’s upsetting that you got harmed as a result of him and he wants to make sure you’re truly okay.

You drag Diluc under his coat so that his body heat can warm you up faster. And even though he tries to get out of it, he doesn’t complain too much.

It’s hard to be upset at the person he loves so much, especially if they were the one who protected him.

💧 Childe 💧

You and Childe were picking through some ruins, searching for chests and other valuable materials. You were careful to avoid any enemies, as the last thing you wanted to do was fight a bunch of slimes and hilichurls.

Childe fought them in your place, eagerly defeating them while you remained on the sidelines.

Everything was going well until the two of you stumbled upon a Ruin Guard that was slumped over, docile and not yet awake. Childe looked over at you and then at the Ruin Guard and then back at you, grinning madly the entire time.

You could only face palm and shake your head, grabbing his arm and gesturing in another direction. You’d encountered enough monsters today; you definitely didn’t want to waste your energy on a rust bucket. But Childe, who had only been fighting small enemies up until this point, was itching for a bigger opponent.

So he rushed ahead despite your quiet protests. And you were stuck having to watch as he sparred with the Ruin Guard.

You would’ve left it up to him if you hadn’t noticed the second Ruin Guard awakening from its slumber, having been disturbed by the commotion.

One Ruin Guard was already an issue, but now you’ve got to deal with two. You can only sigh as you run in to defeat the second one, hoping it won’t take up too much of your time.

Missiles are everywhere; they’ve nearly destroyed the ground and have cracked the already eroded stone pathways. You’ve nearly fallen victim to them a few times now and if it weren’t for Childe’s quick thinking you would’ve been crushed by their mechanical feet.

The first Ruin Guard falls before the two of you in a heap of exhausted, overheated gears and Childe twirls his bow, a glint of madness of his gaze.

You would’ve called it a day if it weren’t for the other Guard aiming for him, missiles completely locked onto his form.

Without thinking, you jump into action, pushing Childe away before he can be hit. In the process, the missiles slam into the rock formation above you and it comes tumbling down in a dusty rumble.

Now it’s Childe’s turn to save you and he’s quick on his feet, pulling you away before you can be buried under heavy stone. The two of you tumble and you scrape your arms and legs in the fall, doing all that you can to shield your boyfriend before he seriously injures himself.

A particular sharp piece of rubble slices the length of your arm and while Childe recovers to finish off the Ruin Guard you clutch your injured arm to stop the blood flow.

Once the Ruin Guard is defeated, Childe goes over to you, bending down to get a look at your arm. “It’s definitely going to need some work,” he jokes, hoping to put a smile on your face. “Don’t worry. I’ll have it patched up in no time. You can count on it.”

And while he wraps it up, he thanks you for your help. Without it, he would’ve been the one with more injuries than you. And even though he doesn’t mind getting hurt in a battle he doesn’t want you to injure yourself as well. So next time you want to protect him, make sure you won’t hurt yourself in the process!

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p---ink · 4 years

Text

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival.

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face.

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised.

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process. When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return.

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job?

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love.

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil.

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one.

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids.

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you.

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest. You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message.

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day.

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you.

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly.

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!”

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin.

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet.

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though.

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him.

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself.

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes.

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew.

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it.

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex.

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?”

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last.

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub.

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face.

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy.

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch.

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips.

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers.

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch.

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were.

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up.

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.”

#Chris Evans smut #Chris Evans fluff #chris evans x reader #black reader #Chris evans #marvel smut #marvel fluff #captain america #Steve rogers #ransom drysdale

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lucyhalearchive · 3 years

Text

Goodbye (N.R.)

Will I ever write a happy Natasha fic? Probably not. I’ve been gone for a while because I got into my dream school, and I’ve been moving in, buying supplies, and just a few other things.

I’ve also been saving a few drafts of fics so that way if I am busy this semester, I can still post for you guys. We’re really close to 100, too!!

Thank you so much, everyone <3

Warnings: descriptive injury, mentions of disassociation, depression, blood, death??? (I put quotes because this may or may not end on a cliff hanger).

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You need to tell Natasha goodbye before leaving

You wake up to the same white ceiling with the same brown trimming, and you wonder if it will ever be different one day; when you open your eyes, it’ll be a brown, wooden ceiling instead of the dotted popcorn currently resting there. You refuse to push yourself out of bed, so instead you turn to your side to make eye contact with your alarm clock missing: Natasha. A group of you were out on another scouting mission trying to find another stolen piece of technology, and you had been bunking with her whenever you decided to settle down from traveling.

You ponder on the idea of just staying in your bed until someone realizes that you’re not present. Then again, would they? You begin to dwell on the swarming negativity that planted itself in your mind. Would your team notice your absence, and would they even care? Would they come out and look for you? Would they mourn you?

You sit up in the bed hurriedly, trying to push the thoughts away. Usually when you spiral like this, you can quite literally shake them off of your skin, but you know they will come back later to bite you in the ass. The breeze pushes past the small, shortened curtains on the windows on either side of a wooden door that leads out into the neighborhood street, and you start to pull the light brown sheet closer to you when you see Steve run past where you reside.

“Time to get up. We have to get moving.” He says in passing, hand hitting against the doorframe, and it causes you to flinch. Maybe they did notice after all. The second your legs swing over the bed and hit the floor, everything seems to move in slow motion; almost as if you’re walking through sludge. You believe that if Steve were to run by again, his voice would become distorted.

Walking out into the field nearby, a place you all were using for meetups, sparing, and anything that could be useful in your current situation, you bask and relish in the softness that the air holds. The sun still hits your skin and warms it like a blanket fresh from the dryer, but the wind cools you down immediately after. In the distance, you can see Steve and Sam talking while pointing over the horizon as Natasha simply stands closer to a cliff, seemingly deep in thought.

“Good. You’re here. We’re heading out in about five minutes, so get ready.” Sam fills you in the rest of the way, but your mind keeps wandering to the dangers that have stumbled upon you; how you’ve kept yourself alive. Alive for your mother. Alive for the cat Bucky is currently watching over. Alive for Natasha. Speaking of which, you give Sam a curt nod and head over to her.

“You alright?” You question, placing yourself right beside Natasha, staring out onto the horizon. Sheep graze, never stopping, and birds circle the sky looking for any stragglers. Natasha takes a deep breath before turning her body to you slightly, never taking her eyes off the sheep.

“I’ve just been thinking about the future recently, but the past still finds its way in there.” She pulls her hands behind her back and lays one arm on top of the other, a military stance, almost.

“Our future?” You ask, full of hope because you often thought of what life would be like if you knew that Natasha would be there forever, in every waking moment. She shakes her head.

“What my life would be like if I went back and changed the past.” She finishes, finally looking at you. She slips her hand over your left cheek, and her thumb glides over the surface. You know of her past. You know that she wishes a million choices could be reversed or changed. You know how horribly it pains and haunts her sometimes, and you wish you could fix it. You put your hand over hers and smile; a sad grin flashes over her face, and you wonder what she’s planning.

“Let’s move.” Sam shouts out from his position, and before Natasha even begins to move to meet up with them, she places a long kiss on your forehead. Almost as if she is savoring the kiss.

You give one last look to the long fall from the cliff to the plains beneath, and a familiar urge bubbles up from your chest. However, you four don’t have to worry about traveling far because a group, or a small army, really, shows themselves as they push above the hill, and Steve clenches his jaw.

“I hear that you four are trying to find this.” The thief reveals Tony’s device that you still had no idea what it was. It’s a small, spherical device that lights up when touched.

“We don’t want any trouble. We just want the device.” Sam steps forward slightly in front of Steve, much to his displeasure. Natasha copies his movements and places herself in front of you.

“Yes, a device that I intend to keep safe and away from you.” The accent slips through to your ears, and he sends his followers after you all. Usually, you’re calm in moments such as these, and not long ago, you were begging Steve to let you go out on missions such as these. Now, your body is tensing at the sight of the large army barreling towards just the four of you, but you know that you could all fend them off easily.

As you quickly snap the wrist of some poor soldier who tried to sneak up behind you, your eyes shift to your friends, checking in on them. Steve and Sam are holding their own, but also helping each other out, and Natasha is effortlessly taking down a few soldiers. Nonetheless, you notice a few of them preparing to team up on her, so you rush over, pushing yourself in front of Natasha.

Again, everything around you became distorted, walking through sludge. The piercing, burning pain of a sharp, metal spear pushes through your skin and onto the ground beneath, holding your body in place; you don’t let out a scream, just a grunt of displeasure. Every alarm bell that is supposed to be ringing is silent, and your life plays in front of your face despite Steve standing in front of you asking questions.

You can see his younger self flash beside him, and you wonder if you’re going crazy. If you were, would you even realize it? Would anyone even know? You remember the first day you met Steve all those years ago at one of Tony’s parties. You had a bet on who would get drunk first, but the bastard didn’t tell you that he couldn’t really get drunk. You were swaying and slurring while he was standing upright.

You start to believe that the burning sensation rising in your back and stomach will never end. You cna faintly hear Sam and Steve arguing over if they should remove the spear at all from you or the ground, but you could care less. Your eyes shift to Natasha, and the rest of the world becomes blurry. Maybe it’s because of the blood loss, but you can see her just fine. You’re trying to memorize the way her hair sits on her forehead after a battle. The way her eyebrows are creasing as she tries to decipher what you’re thinking. The way the sunset creates a glow on her face.

I should’ve stayed inside.

Steve grabs your face as your head begins to lull backwards, now looking at the sky, and your eyes fight to stay open. When you meet his eyeline, you try to reach out to place and hand on his shoulder, and maybe get out a few words of sentiment.

“Save it. You’re going to be just fine. We’re going to take the spear out of the ground and lay you down, okay?” You try to nod back, but everything is moving too slow for you. The wind no longer helps cool you down, but it feels freezing.

“Are you serious? That’s going to cause serious bleeding, and we’re already losing too much!” Natasha interjects which causes a fight between her and Sam. Steve tries to ignore them. As the sun hits Steve’s blonde hair, you laugh. He looks up after sitting you on the ground, spear at and angle. It hurts a little more, but at least you aren’t trying to keep yourself up.

“What’s so funny?” He raises an eyebrow before looking away from your eyes to plan what to do next.

“You were always the golden boy, Rogers.” You mention while raising a hand to point out the golden hue the sun gave him. Should you really be cracking jokes now? Natasha looks away from Sam to sit by your side. She pushes your hair away from your head and stares at you.

“Don’t close your eyes. We’re going to get you home. We need to get you home.” Her voice falters towards the end, but you don’t mention it. It would only make her more upset. She continuously strokes your hair, and it removes your thoughts from Sam and Steve working to remove the spear without causing too much blood loss.

“Do you think Bucky is taking care of my cat?” You ponder aloud, and she laughs sadly.

“I think Bucky stole her by now.” She leans her forehead down to meet yours, noses brushing.

“Natasha, if I make it out of here-” You try to start, but her head snaps back as she looks at you in bewilderment. She takes both of your hands in hers.

“Which you will.” She quickly interjects, but it doesn’t give you hope; you give her a stern look.

“I want to marry you.” You flatly state. You have wanted to ask her for a while, but fear got the better of you. It is now or never. Literally. She stays quiet, seemingly debating with herself again, and you finally slip out of consciousness.

---

I rearranged my room today, so I am beyond tired. I hope you loved it <3

Again, thank you all for the support! I can not believe how far we’ve come. Another thing before I go: if I were to write a series, what would you like to see? Let me know!

-Lucy

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel #hurt/comfort

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

The Ghost Of You༄ n.jm

↳ Sneaking Jaemin into your brother’s house has been all fun and games so far, until an impromptu make-out session leads to something dangerous.

pairing: na jaemin x reader ft. older brother!jaehyun

genre: fluff, suggestive

wordcount: 1.6k words

Request 25: Jaemin + “I swear my house is haunted.” (140) + “Go back to bed.” (145)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧.

The only thing rushing through your veins at this moment is pure adrenaline.

And apparently a lot of blood too since all Jaemin’s been doing for the past five minutes is poke fun at your warm cheeks. Literally, poke fun.

“Aww, pretty girl.” Though Jaemin’s nails are blunt, it still aches as he drills it into your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quiet.”

“Yeah, right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You almost got us caught just now!”

Jaemins grins slyly, his eyes appear to glint with something akin to mischief under the soft light which pours through your window. The window which was wide open an hour ago, cold gusts of wind filling your room as Jaemin was perched on its sill, a mere silhouette with the moonlight against his back. “You make it sound like we’re doing something erotic.”

You push his face. “We’re not, but sneaking into your girlfriend’s brother’s house in the middle of the night isn’t any better either!”

Jaemin laughs, though not as loudly as he had just now, which coincidentally is very relevant to the discourse occurring at the present moment. That almost gremlin-like laughter is how you two were almost caught red-handed. “Relax a little, princess. I promise we won’t get caught. How many times have we done this?”

More times than you’d like to admit. You flush. “Okay, but our luck’s gonna run out one of these nights. My brother isn’t stupid.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” Jaemin pecks your lips, smiling against them. “I bet Jaehyun doesn’t have a clue.”

“Since when did you get so chummy with my brother?”

“Hey, I’ve got to get a headstart in making my future in-laws like me, right?”

The implications behind his remark leave you weak in the knees. Thank God, you’re not standing. “Yeah, well I don’t think your future in-laws would like it if you snuck into their homes.” You hold Jaemin’s face between your hands. “And you didn’t have to sneak in. I told you I’d be back home by the weekend.”

“I know, but I missed you, pretty girl.” Jaemin kisses your thigh as he’s lying flat on his stomach between them. You sit up straighter against your headboard. “Getting shy?”

“No, I’m not. Shut up.”

Jaemin giggles, his thumb absentmindedly tracing shapes on the smooth expanse of your thighs. “Jaehyun’s house isn’t that far from your old place anyway. I don’t mind the extra few minutes if I get to see your cute face.”

“Still… this is risky.” You can’t help but worry. It’s not like you’re not flattered by Jaemin’s presence, but break’s nearly over. You’d be back at your apartment with your roommate in no time. He should’ve just sat patiently instead of risking his life being here in your room, in your brother’s house. And you really do mean his life. If Jaehyun were to stumble upon him, he’d saw off mini Jaemin in the blink of an eye.

You had talked to Jaemin about how you’d be staying with your brother for break since you had wanted to check out his new place anyway. You genuinely hadn’t expected for him to show up, unannounced, with a cheeky smile as his knuckles rapped the glass of your window. He had nearly given you a heart attack. In fact, you were sure he had taken a few years off of your life.

You were peeved at first by his boldness, but how could you get mad at him when he had come all this way to see you with that little twinkle in his eyes and that boyish tussle of his hair? So, he had got off with just a bit of a reprimanding, though evidently, you hadn’t been very stern because he obviously hasn’t repented. Your voice had wavered when Jaemin had nibbled on the skin of your inner thigh and licked a hot stripe up that spot he knew would get you squirming, which is understandable.

You can’t deny that you kind of like this. It feels exhilarating, sneaking around behind your brother’s back like this.

If Jaemin could just walk through the front door of Jaehyun’s house, you don’t think he would be doing this in the first place—well, he might do it for the rush, but at least he wouldn’t be doing it so often. Unfortunately, despite Jaemin’s remark about getting chummy with his in-laws, you know your brother isn’t fond of him. They’ve met once, briefly, and for some reason, Jaehyun seemed pput off by Jaemin. You couldn’t put your finger on ‘why’, and when interrogated, Jaehyun had just shrugged and said that he didn’t mind who you dated and that he liked Jaemin. While for the most part, the former rings true, the latter is most definitely false. You can tell. You’ve known Jaehyun all your life and he seems to have a distaste towards your boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about, princess?”

“Hmm,” you hum, running your hands through Jaemin’s soft hair, relishing in the feel of it between your fingers. “Nothing.” You pause, eyes momentarily flickering to Jaemin’s wet lips before returning to his sharp gaze. “Kiss me?”

Jaemin smiles, eyes creasing as he leans in. “Of course.”

He’s warm. He always is. His hands are warm as they roam your body, igniting small sparks of passion wherever they touch. His smile is warm as he cups the back of your head with his palm, readjusting you so that you’re beneath him, arms on either side of your head. His body is warm as it’s pressed against you, his weight present but not suffocating as his hands find their way to yours, your fingers intertwining.

You can feel his right hand palming your waist.

Jaemin pulls away from you. “What happened to being quiet?” he tuts.

You sigh. God, you simultaneously love and despise how cocky Jaemin gets in moments like these. “Yeah, okay, okay. Just keep kissing me, Jaemin.” He arches a brow, a smile playing at his lips. “Please.”

“Okay, since you’re being good for me.” His breath fans your neck, before his lips are back on yours, soft and warm.

And then there’s a loud, sudden thud.

It all happens so fast. First, you’re shoving Jaemin off of you with a start. Then, he’s falling onto your floor, ass-first, an awkward, undealt-with, semi-tent in his pants.

“Shit! Jaemin!” you whisper shout, pulling at your shorts so it doesn’t look like someone just had their hands down them. “Move! Hide!”

You can hear a door click shut and heavy, sluggish, footsteps dragging across the hallway floor.

Jaemin scrambles to his feet. “Shit, where?”

You card a hand through your hair. “Uhm, fuck, uh,” your eyes scan your room, “there! Under my desk! He won’t see you from the door.”

Jaemin wordlessly dives under your desk, nearly bumping his head on its edge.

Your door opens soundlessly, the dim light from the hallway flooding into your room, illuminating your no doubt flushed face. You hope Jaehyun’s too tired to notice.

“Hey, you okay? I heard something and thought you fell.”

You laugh nervously, rubbing your arm in an up-and-down motion. “What? What are you talking about? Nothing happened.”

Jaehyun eyes you suspiciously, the sleep beginning to wear off as he shifts his weight from one leg to another. “You sure? I’m pretty certain I heard something…”

You shake your head furiously. “Nope. I didn’t hear a thing.”

Jaehyun groans, running his hands down his face. “Damn, I swear my house is haunted.”

“Go back to bed.” You wave Jaehyun off, hoping that you both sound and look nonchalant.

“Yeah, yeah, you too.” Jaehyun yawns. “G’night,” he slurs, shutting the door behind him.

Jaemin makes a move to slip out from his hiding spot but you hold a hand out to stop him. He freezes in place, eyes darting warily from you to your door.

When you hear the soft pads of Jaehyun’s footsteps fade into silence, you let out an uneven breath. Another near heart attack. It seems like the people around you don’t want you living a long life.

“The coast clear?” Jaemin crawls out from beneath your desk, his long limbs unfolding themselves from the almost foetal-like position they were previously in, and this time he does bump his head against your table. “Ow! Shit!”

You wince at the sound. “Oh my God, it’s almost like you want us to get caught.” You extend a hand towards him, and he clasps it gratefully, his left hand rubbing his forehead as his face contorts into one of pain. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” sighs Jaemin. He unexpectedly holds you against him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Fucking hell, I almost pissed myself.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” You lean into Jaemin, allowing most of your weight to be supported by him. Your shoulders loosen and your body finally relaxes, that is until an old friend digs into your thigh. You suppress a snort.

“Do you need help with that?”

Jaemin snickers, backing away from you and ruffling the top of your hair. “Nah, I think I’ve had enough excitement for tonight.” The ghost of a smile teases his lips. “I can wait ‘till the weekend.”

You laugh to nobody in particular as Jaemin slips out of your window like a cat, disappearing silently into the night, the only remnants of his presence are your unruly hair and the pink tint that dusts your cheeks.

You’re looking forward to the weekend.

#toaster requests #jaemin fluff #jaemin smut #nct fluff #nct smut #nct dream #nct 127 #na jaemin #nct u #nct imagines #jaemin imagines #nct scenarios #jaemin scenarios #nct oneshots #jaemin oneshot #nct x reader #jaemin x reader

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taechuu7374 · 3 years

Text

Hangover or motion sick?

TW//minor panic attack/break down

A/N: This is a fic I wrote for @softbangtum and I really hope they like it.. please enjoy this fic as it was inspired by a post made a while back by them! Please go support them, they are such an amazing and talented person!

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

Go to the amusement park they said. It would be fun, they said.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Sure, amusement parks are cool and all but not when you have a fucking hangover!

3rd POV

As the members all piled into the car, bubbly and bursting with energy, Yoongi trailed behind in a sluggish manner. While the others seemed excited, Yoongi seemed dead to the world.

Yoongi sat in the passengers seat and slumped, a small huff escaping his lips.

“Oi, lighten up. You’ll have a great time!” Seokjin beamed encouragingly, sitting in the drivers seat as per usual.

Yoongi only sighed and nodded after a moment’s hesitation, turning his head to stare out the window.

Yoongi had a throbbing headache and some nausea to go with it, not to mention a bad attitude to “spice things up.” He was not in the mood to go anywhere.

“Yeah! Lighten up hyungie!” Jimin teased from the back of the car, giggling when he heard the older growl under his breath.

“Yah! Don’t yell in the fucking car!” Yoongi tried to keep a stern tone, but his wince from his own yell showed he wasn’t feeling too good. His headache was getting to him.

Seokjin’s expression softened upon seeing that. “Hey.. are you okay?” He asked discreetly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Yoongi only shrugged him off, nodding. “I guess.” He mumbled bitterly. It wasn’t uncommon for him to act irritated when he had a headache.

Seokjin only hummed in acknowledgement, taking that as a sign to change the subject.

Yoongi leaned his head against the car window, his eyes slowly beginning to flutter shut.

However, it was hard to fall asleep in a noisy van, not to mention the way his head kept bumping against the window from all the speed bumps.

Yoongi groaned and curled in on himself, covering his ears with shaking hands. This was probably the worst hangover yet, and they weren’t even 10 minutes into the car ride!

Jimin noticed that and frowned. “Hyung..? Hyungie, are you okay??”

Yoongi forced himself to nod, not wanting to appear weak in front of one of the maknae’s. He needed to stay strong.

But of course, Jimin was too smart for that. He took the situation into his own hands and signaled to the other members to quiet down.

Eventually, the group reached the amusement park. The Maknae line was the first out of the car, the three of them all bouncing with excitement and happy eyes.

Yoongi was the last out of the car, Seokjin having to shake him awake since he had fallen asleep in the car.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut as the bright light of the sun blinded his vision. He felt someone take his hand and drag him towards the gates.

“Chill out, hyung! Don’t be so tense!” Jungkook giggled, feeling how tight the older’s grip was on his hand.

Yoongi glared at the youngest a little when he turned away, but he soon sighed and hung his head. He couldn’t stay mad at him, he was too cute anyways.

Suddenly, Hoseok took Yoongi by the hand and lead him into the amusement park. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder to keep him steady. “What do you wanna do first, Hyung?”

Jimin caught up to the two of them, instantly pointing out one of the roller coasters.

“Oh, uh... Maybe the kids section would be more.. plausible.” Hoseok laughed nervously, grunting when Jimin nudged him.

“Aish, don’t be such a scardy-cat!” Jimin teased, a cocky smirk on his lips.

Yoongi was a bit blank during the conversation, not paying much attention. The only thing he could pay attention to was the pain in his head.

Suddenly, he began to sway a little. Before he could process anything, he was pulled by the hand and into the line for a roller coaster.

Yoongi thought he would be okay, but his stomach did a somersault when he saw all the flips and turns the ride did. He gulped nervously and squeezed Jimin’s hand.

And, just as expected, when the ride was done Yoongi was bolting towards the nearest trash can, Jimin following closely behind.

Yoongi ducked his head into the trash can, dry heaving and hugging his stomach.

“Shit- shit shit shit, I knew this was a bad idea!” Jimin cursed under his breath, rubbing Yoongi’s back.

“I-It’s not tha-“

“Hyungie!” Jungkook cried out, rushing over when he saw them. “Was it the roller coasters? I knew it! We should’ve stayed home..”

“N-No..” Yoongi tried to choke out.

“Don’t try to speak, hyung. Just let it all up, I know your tummy is all icky from those flips..” Hoseok whispered to him, running his fingers through the older’s sweaty hair and slicking it back.

“No- I-“ Yoongi groaned and sat up. “I have a hangover, goddamn it!!”

Yoongi had reached his breaking point. Whenever that happened, it wasn’t a pretty sight. It began with an outburst of the older’s emotions, and soon morphed into a.. well.. this.

Yoongi collapsed into Hoseok’s arms, nuzzling his face into his neck as he began to sob.

“H-Hobi..” the smaller choked out, gripping the front of his shirt.

“Yeah? I’m here, hyungie.. it’s okay. What’s wrong, hm?” Hoseok coaxed gently, motioning for Jimin and Jungkook to go find the others.

“M-My head fucking hurts a-and.. I feel so sick and tired, I just wanted to sleep in b-but I couldn’t even do that..”

“I know.. I’m so sorry Hyungie.. let’s get you home, yeah?” Hoseok smiled sweetly.

“Okay.. please.” Yoongi whimpered out, shyly wiping his tears. The poor thing was really embarrassed.

“Hey. It’s okay to cry, I promise. There’s nothing wrong with it and no one will judge you. If they do, I’ll just bite them.” Hoseok nuzzled their noses to cheer him up, smiling when the younger let out a small giggle.

“Feeling better?”

“Much. Thank you..” Yoongi sighed with relief.

Soon enough, the members all were home and setting up the living room for Yoongi. They laid out blankets, pillows, snacks, water bottles, medicine for Yoongi, and a trash can in case he needed it.

Yoongi took the spot between Hoseok and Jimin, instantly closing his eyes and relaxing from the comfort of his members. He smiled to himself and drifted off to sleep in the puppy pile of 7.

#BTS emeto #sick!yoongi #bts sickfic #emeto

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter 4)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

Okay, yeah, sure, fine, you and Santi might not have been 100% honest about what you were planning in the jungle.

In fairness, neither of you ever actually said that this recon mission was at the behest of the CNP or Colombian military or any other government entity. You may have hinted at it. You may have neglected to correct the guys when they assumed. But you never actually told them that anyone had requested the raid on Lorea’s house.

What you had said was that there was a good chance this could turn into… something more. Something that might end up in a hefty pay day for all of you. You just never told the group of men that you and Garcia were actually banking on it.

You didn’t love the idea of lying to a bunch of strangers whom – if they agreed to everything – would end up holding your very life in their hands. Frankly, just the thought of doing so felt… sleezy. Especially considering that these men were Santi’s trusted friends. His brothers. But Santiago insisted that it needed to be played this way – They’ll never go for it if we tell them what we’re really up to. But I promise you, bonita, once they’re here, once they see… they’ll be all in.

He clearly knew his team because after just that single two-hour recce, a couple rounds of beers at a local bar, and a rather stirring, pointed speech, they were, in fact, all in.

And why not, really? The only one of them who had anything to lose – a family beyond those seen at the occasional holiday, wedding, or funeral – was Tom. And he’d been struggling so badly lately with impending alimony and child support and two kids’ worth of college tuitions – eight years minimum – that the money alone did all of their convincing for them.

It was illegal, yes. It was, as the captain said, “downright criminal.” But it wasn’t wrong. And as long as everything went according to plan, no one would know anything about any of it.

In the end, the world would be down at least one piece-of-shit, megalomaniacal drug lord murderer.

Some of the struggling people of Leticia – because you and Santi had promised each other and Yovanna that you’d drop a good chunk of the money into the hands of local charities – would have better lives.

Tom’s girls could go to college without having to worry about paying off student loans until they die.

Will could finally get rid of his old junker and buy a nice car – maybe not the Ferrari Ben was angling for, but a nice car all the same – to get him back and forth across the country for all those rousing speeches he insisted he would not stop giving.

Benny could invest in better training, at better gyms with better equipment… and real trainers. Or, hell, he could give all that shit up and quit getting his ass handed to him by kids ten years his junior, all in the hopes of capturing what was almost always one hell of a disappointing purse.

And Frankie? Well, Frankie wasn’t sure what he’d do with his share. But it sure would be nice to not have to worry so damn much. To not have to scramble to make the house payment every month. To not have to beg that dick who owns the local airfield to let him take on a few jobs just so he could settle into a cockpit for a bit. To maybe have the time – and funds – to take a woman on a date every now and then… not that he had a clue who that woman might be.

And you and Santi? Well, after years of accomplishing nothingin the fight against Lorea – the fight against the drug trade that had ruined and taken so many lives around the world – you two could finally say that you’d actually made a difference. Even if you couldn’t quite say it aloud for everyone to hear.

000

By the time you get to the compound early Sunday morning, rain’s already been falling for hours. The area’s nearly flooded, so your off-road path is basically a sprawling swampland. You barely slept, your hip is aching like crazy from an old injury, and the minute you step out of the SUV you damn near squeal like a stuck pig as you suddenly sink up to your calf in thick, sucking mud.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters under his breath – under a breathless laugh, you’re pretty sure – as he hops out and wraps a steadying arm around your waist. “Let me help,” he says, the words so soft, you can barely hear them over the unyielding pounding of the rain.

You try to balance, holding onto the door, one foot just barely sinking into the soft earth as Frankie leans down to pry the other from what feels like an utterly engulfing quicksand. He struggles, still holding you around the waist while his left hand works to grip your leg, your boot, your ankle… whatever he can wrap his fingers around. But it’s no use. The op has yet to even begin and already you’re stuck. In the disgusting mud. Deep in the endless jungle. With no hope of ever getting out.

You let out a painfully dramatic, completely despairing sigh and glance up only to see Benny laughing. Really laughing… not even trying to hide his utter, unabashed amusement at your awful predicament. You shoot him as threatening a glare as you can muster. But it only makes him laugh harder.

“Go get into position,” Tom orders, slapping him on the shoulder and shaking his head – once again in a seemingly all-too-practiced dadway – before he bends down to help Frankie out.

Finally, finally, the two men manage to free you. Shockingly, your boot leaves the earth as well, though you can feel the muck inside squelching beneath your instep and in between your toes. Your lip curls in disgust as you haphazardly wipe the boot – bottom, sides, and top – on the wheel well, a bit of mud getting squeezed out near your ankle as you do so. “I’m gonna get jungle rot,” you mutter bitterly as you continue to smear grime along the body of the SUV.

Tom swats your leg away. “Just be sure you don’t give away your location with all the squishing,” he says with a hint of a smile. Then, patting Frankie on the back, he finishes with a much more stern, “Let’s do this,” and takes off to find his position, face and shoulders both set as he easily drops into soldier mode.

“I’m still not sure if I like that guy,” you begin as you and Frankie head for the high ground, “or really freaking hate him.”

He bites out a quick laugh, turns to show off that too-damn-perfect smile, and replies with an easygoing, “Yup.”

Once you make it out of your drop-in point, everything else seems to be smooth sailing. The worst part is just waiting, especially with the rain. Waiting for Garcia’s informant to drop off the van. Waiting for the guards to leave for church, the family not so quickly following suit. Waiting for the guys to move in – Frankie shooting a quick wink alongside, “Watch my six,” as he heads out to join them. Waiting for the all-clear from Benny before you can finally enter the house yourself.

The house. Lorea’s house.

You’d been waiting for this for too damn long. Years of hunting the man had led to these last few months of building out this very plan with Santiago… and then to the last week of recon and final plans with these soldiers whom you barely even know. For all of the initial mistrust heaped upon you by them – and you honestly don’t blame them for any of it – the truth is, they know they have each other to depend on. You’re the odd man out here. You’re the one who should be questioning them… their dedication to this mission. Their loyalty to Santi, and by extension, to you. Their desire to end Lorea’s reign of terror.

You’re in this to take that man out. And if just one of these guys decides that’s not going to happen – for whatever reason – you’re shit out of luck. You should trust them only as far as you can throw them, which would be… not very far. But as you catch sight of Ben standing inside the front door, eagerly waving you in, and as you see the trail of blood leading into the kitchen, a voice over the coms calmly declaring, we had to shoot one of the guards in the leg, something inside of you shifts and settles and all of the worries about who may or may not be trustworthy simply flit away to nothing.

But other concerns quickly rise to take their place.

Watching the highly trained special ops team move about you – each man light-footed and fluid, so quiet that their breathing is nearly inaudible, even as one of them leans over your shoulder from his position behind – is nerve wracking enough to make your legs begin to tremble. You knew what you were getting into here. You knew that this would be dangerous, that it would require a certain level of skill and technique and training. But it isn’t until you actually see these men – these elite soldiers – in action that you realize how woefully inept and unprepared you are in comparison.

Self-doubt begins to seep from the cracks now forming in your carefully crafted façade. Uncertainty, insecurity, fear starts to build up and rise within you, burning like bile creeping up the back of your throat. By the time you and Santiago finish the second sweep of the downstairs and begin climbing the steps to the second-story landing, your entire body is vibrating with regretful apprehension.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you hear as you approach the study upstairs. It’s the room where your informant took the picture of the stacks of cash after her delivery, the holding area where all of Lorea’s blood money sat, just waiting to be counted. But when you enter, there’s no money to be found, just pissed-off-looking soldiers surrounded by the empty bags they had planned to fill with cash.

“Your girl burned us,” Frankie mutters blankly, eyes full of regret and annoyance as he leans heavily against one wall. His dark gaze collides with yours for just a fraction of a moment before he shakes his head and breathes out, “We gotta get outta here.”

Your brow crinkles in confusion, all of the insecurity bubbling through your body suddenly settling and getting replaced by a sort of righteous indignation. “Whoa, wait,” you spit out, sidestepping Santi and rushing to the center of the room. “We’re not leaving. We’re not done here.”

Will gives you an almost disappointed look and blankly mutters, “Nothing here, sweetheart,” before dropping heavily into a chair in the corner.

You shake your head, a pointed certainty to your words as you level him with a heated stare and say, “Lorea’s here. He’s always here. He does not leave.”

Tom scoffs. “Yeah, well, he left today,” he says, tone full of spite. “And he took the money with him.”

You spin to face him, “No,” pouring from your lips in a firm and unyielding tenor. “He’s here. And so is the money.”

“We did a full sweep,” Will breathes out.

“So we’ll do another,” Santiago chimes in, suddenly at your back.

You look around at all the forlorn faces and roll your eyes, realizing all at once that, for all their training in war, these men don’t have a freaking clue about the kinds of things you deal with in your job. They’re used to encountering soldiers – enemy combatants, trained mercenaries, militias… people who’s purpose is to fight. That’s not what Lorea is. That’s not what he does. He didn’t move deep into the jungle to fight, to wage war, to build an army. He came here to hide.

“You guys are fucking idiots,” you declare with a huff. “I once spent two hours tearing apart a houseboat before finding the guy we were after squatting in a hidden cutout near the bilge. A few years ago, we found fifty thousand dollars under a false bottom in a hot tub while serving a search warrant. Another raid ended with us tearing apart a kid’s tree house that had cash hidden under the floorboards. You think because Lorea isn’t sitting here behind his desk, counting his millions like fucking Scrooge McDuck that they’re not here? That he’s not here?”

“Didn’t McDuck swim in his money?” Benny inquires from behind, the question earning quick huff of a laugh from his brother.

You feel Santi step away from your side. “She’s right,” he says, his eyes dancing around the room, looking for… something. They land on a mostly empty can of paint, and he smiles, sniffing quickly at the air. “Fresh paint.”

Tom’s eyes widen and tick towards the wall to his left as his lips split and out pours what you had all along seen as being an obvious truth. “The house is the safe.”

000

When it rains, it pours. You’d been the one to say that, to inanely mutter the adage through the coms with a huff as Benny took off back inside the house – the safe – while you sat in the now heavily weighted van, so full of money that the suspension sags to the point of extremeconcern.

The guards are coming back, the sound of their SUV’s engine just barely chugging atop the steady beating of the downpour that had engulfed you all for the past few hours. They’re coming back, and everyone but you is still inside.

Call it greed. Call it vindictiveness. Call it whatever the fuck you want. But you all had agreed to get as much plata out of that house as possible, to fill the cars to the freaking brim with as much of that motherfucker’s money – his lifeblood, his love, his everything – before setting fire to the whole damn thing. You’d been in this business long enough to know that bringing down one cartel merely opens up a door for others to grow. But still, the idea of watching Lorea’s empire burn makes you wet in a way the torrential rain beating on the roof on the van never could.

You toss a glance back, over you shoulder at the mound of duffel bags, a child’s suitcase thrown into the pile as well, all filled to bursting with cash. It’s pretty unbelievable. Incredible. You’d never been the type to really worry about money, no more so than the average guy. But damn if being surrounded by millions of dollars doesn’t make you a little lightheaded. And the fact that it’s Lorea’s money?

Despite Santi’s little bullshit pep talk the other night about how all of you deserve this – for serving your country and fighting for what’s right… blah, blah, blah – you honestly don’t feel like you deserve this money any more than anyone else. But Lorea sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. And you trust yourself – and each of these men by your side – to put it to far better use than he ever would.

You can’t see the guards, can’t see the SUV carrying them from your vantage point in the van. But Benny had told you to stay put, he’d get the others and he wanted you ready to drive as soon as they came out. Still, you know now that the first car must’ve arrived at the compound because – aside from the steady pounding of the rain and the wild pulse of your heartbeat echoing in your ears – everything is suddenly silent. No more hum of an engine. No choppy callouts over the radio as Ben seeks out the guys. Everything is silent and still. Until… pop-pop, short and sudden, muffled by the thick walls of the house.

Over the coms you hear – in a calm, controlled tone – Two down in the entryway. Another sharp pop, followed by a voice you’ve come to easily recognize. That’s three.

There’s something in the way their words are uttered, something in the utterly placid tenor of each of their voices. Something also to the sparse shots – so unlike the rapid, automatic gunfire you’re used to being thrown into amid scared and untrained local police and inexperienced, foolhardy kids hired as cheap labor by the cartels. There’s something about the way they all rush suddenly into your line of sight – fast but calm, controlled – as they pour out of the house, a few racing past to find the guards’ SUV, the sounds of their footfalls and quick breaths nearly drowning out the whir of the engine as you turn the ignition. There’s something about it all that leaves you feeling – despite the fact that things did not go as planned and you can see that all-too-recognizable, pissed-off scowl tugging at Santiago’s features as he flies past your window – calm as well. Safe, even.

Frankie climbs quickly into the passenger side of the van just as you fire up the engine, Will slowly pulling himself into the seat behind him. “Shit,” you mutter, eyes widening as you take in the grimace on the man’s face, the blood on his hands and shirt. “What the hell happened?”

“S’fine,” he tells you, punctuating the statement with a nod, a directive to look forward. “Let’s move.”

You put the van in gear and hit the gas, maneuvering steadily through the compound and towards the front entrance. “Did you get shot?” you inquire again, your voice showing less concern and more simple curiosity.

“Yeah,” he groans, a thick breath hitching as you hit a particularly big bump in the road. “Your friend Lorea popped out of his little hidey hole and got me. Guess you called that.”

You whip around to face him, eyes now like damn saucers. “You got him?”

Frankie grabs your arm and gives a little tug to get you turn back towards the front, only speaking, answering for Will, once you do so, once you settle a still-wild stare on the path ahead, “Yeah. Pope took him out. He’s dead.”

You say nothing for a long moment, letting those words seat inside of you. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. How long have you wanted to hear those words? How long have you been gunning for that son of a bitch, waiting for someone to take him out… hoping that someone might be you? Santi doing it is the next best thing, you figure.

A sudden explosion lights up in front of you as you approach the gate and Benny blows past it, and past the van, angrily muttering to himself all the while. “He looks pissed,” you comment blithely, looking to Frankie for something akin to permission before flooring it and ramming through the gate like you’re just itching to do.

He gives a staunch nod forward. “Can’t blame him,” he says, capping it off with a softer, rather encouraging, “Go for it.”

You hit the gas, glancing in the rearview mirror and asking, “The others are in the SUV?” as the guards’ car pulls up behind you and waits for Ben to jump in.

Frankie nods – “Yeah.” – and his eyes suddenly tick your way, narrowing a bit as they rove your body before coming to rest on your hands as they tightly grip the wheel.

“What?” you ask, feeling his stare burn into you.

Will laughs from behind – a swift, stilted thing that tells you just how much pain he’s actually in – and lets out an amused, “Fish always drives.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, voice dripping with put-on sincerity as you continue down the unpaved road. “Do you want me to pull over?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding the plainly obvious pout tugging at his lips when he looks over at you and mutters, “Just watch where you’re going.”

The first half or so of the long drive up to the airfield is spent in tense silence. You don’t fight it, don’t force any sort of conversation, don’t inquire about what exactly happened in that house. You can tell that these men need a long-ass moment to come down from everything. Hell, your own adrenaline still has your pulse thrumming endlessly through your ears. And you’d been safely ensconced inside this van for most of the action. It’s not like you had to fight your way out of there. It’s not like you got shot.

Your eyes bounce up to the rearview mirror, finding Will curled into himself in the backseat. “How you doing, Ironhead?” you ask, purposefully infusing the ridiculous name with a mocking intonation.

He looks up and catches your gleaming eyes in the mirror, notes your slight smirk, and gruffly replies, “Well, I’m not dead yet.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Frankie supplies from your right. He spins around to give his friend a quick once over. “He’s fine.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” you challenge, raising a brow. “Didn’t see you coming out of there with a new hole in your body.”

“Didn’t realize you were so focused on my body,” he returns with a bit of a lilt.

Will groans loudly from the back. “Don’t start flirting up there,” he practically orders before the no-argument tone slips into something softer, almost jovial. “I’m suffering enough back here as is.”

“You’re fine,” Frankie shoots back, turning bodily in his seat and craning his head towards his friend. “You act like you’ve never been shot before.”

“I’m retired,” he replies. “Think I forgot how much this sucks.”

You nod, almost to yourself, emitting a simple, assenting, “Yeah.”

Frankie leans back, still remaining sideways in the seat, his stare now wholly on you. You glance over and see his brow scrunch in… is it concern? Or merely curiosity? “You’ve been shot?” he asks, an odd edge to his voice.

Again, you nod. “I have. Didn’t care for it.”

“See, Fish,” Will mumbles from the back as he slips further down the seat in an effort to find some semblance of comfort. “Maybe you’ve been so busy flying around rich businessmen in the private sector that you’ve also forgotten how shitty this is.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he mutters with a frown.

Will cocks his head at you – not that you can see it, eyes remaining trained on the road lest you get another watch where you’re goingevil stare from the man by your side. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You snort out a short laugh, glancing quickly at Frankie and saying softly – and more than a little bit condescendingly – “He likes to call me sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man in the back sighs out, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Guess I’m just a run-of-the-mill chauvinist.”

You shrug. “I never said anything about you being run-of-the-mill.” And from your right, you hear a soft snicker. A gentle smile spreads across your face and your hands loosen their death grip on the steering wheel just a bit as you feel the air filling the van begin to lighten, tension seeming to slowly spill away. After a lingering – but not at all wrought – moment, you shift a bit in your seat and say, “Went on a raid just outside of Tijuana. My first down in Mexico. And I took a bullet in the hip.”

“Shit,” Will intones. “Hell of a bienvenido.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, suddenly all-too conscious of the old ache in your joint that’s been plaguing you all day. “But on the plus side, I’m now always the first to know when it’s about to rain.”

Both men laugh. You laugh – despite the pain in your hip and the worry about the guy in back… and your terribly distracting infatuation with the wide smile now painted on Frankie’s face. You all sit in the van – on your way to flee the country after committing a terrible crime – and laugh about the fact that, despite each of you being a little bit broken, none of you are dead yet.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #pope garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie morales x you #will ironhead miller #benny miller #triple frontier fic

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Cliché (shy!Reader x Might Guy, Part IV)

Parts 1-3 are up on my master list. I feel like there are some people who don’t know that... I can’t link them here because then it won’t show up on the taaaaags. Enjoy!

Warning for mild language and sexual innuendo.

“C’mon Guy, what about that one over there?” Izumo was gesturing towards a woman near the other part of the bar. “You should go talk to her! Guy, when’s the last time you got, you know, some action?”

Guy chuckled at his friend. He had to admit, she was beautiful, he just wasn’t interested. Guy swirled the glass of his new drink around. He downed the little that was left and let the bottom hit the counter. “I told you, I’m just a wingman for tonight,” Guy replied with his usual gusto. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“You say that every night.” Izumo groaned, repositioning himself in his stool to face his comrade. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

“I’m having fun right now with everyone!” Guy perked up with a smile.

“Not what he meant.” Genma commented, sauntering up to the bar. He ordered another drink. He began to say something else, but Guy was distracted by movement in his peripheral.

Kurenai leant to whisper something to Asuma before sliding off her bar stool. Asuma gave her a look of understanding before she left the bar. She had taken her things with her. Guy’s eyes followed her, perplexed.

“Hey Kurenai! Where are you going?” he called to her. She was too far away to answer. Izumo waved a hand in front of the taijutsu user’s face.

“Guy, you do know you don’t have to spare her feelings, right?” Genma told him, apparently for the second time.

“Who? Kurenai?” Genma’s hand met his face as he slumped back.

“No, not Kurenai.” Izumo grumbled, rolling his eyes. Kakashi, who was having a separate conversation with Asuma, chimed in. He turned to fully face them.

“And we’re going to stop this conversation.” He chirped to the group of three before his features became stern. His eyes drooped to their ever-lidded state and the outline of a frown was visible on his mask. “This is not the time and it certainly isn’t your place.” Guy looked between everyone, puzzled. Was he missing something?

“Don’t worry about it, Guy.” Kakashi spoke, giving the two men on Guy’s left a look of warning. Even without the Sharingan in Kakashi's right eye visible, his look would intimidate most. However, being mostly intoxicated, Izumo and Genma were currently outside the realm of “most”. Izumo sat back against the bar. He hiccuped. Genma shrugged, his glass near slipping out of his hand before he managed to catch it. He brought it to his lips.

“I’m just saying that just because (Y/N)-Chan has a little crush on you doesn’t mean that you have to stay celibate.” If Guy had been drinking, he would have spit out his drink with widened eyes. A little what now? That was another piece of new information he’d have to wrap his head around. Before he could speak, his eternal rival cut in.

“Genma, shut up.” Kakashi sternly snapped.

“What? It’s not like she’s here.” Guy turned to face the booth where you were supposed to be sitting. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed upon noticing that you were indeed no longer there. Guilt flooded Guy. He had hardly noticed. Dismay washed through his features. Did someone say something to you?

“Drop it, you two. Someone really should have cut you off.” Asuma spoke gruffly, he turned to the whole group. “(Y/N) is our friend. I know for a fact that she’s saved all our asses more than once. So what we’re not going to do is get fucking wasted, bully the shit out of her until she leaves, and then talk about her behind her back. Knock it off.” He took a puff of his cigarette.

Guy sat silently. His ice-filled, liquid-lacking glass sat in his large grip. He reflected back on your period of time together. Something about having you around always did feel… nice. You were always the colleague who he had never had a chance to spend much time with, but now that you had, he couldn’t imagine not being with you. For once, he had a sneaking suspicion about what it was about you. Guy liked being close to you and he might have just figured what that meant.

Genma scoffed, stumbling over himself dizzily. He propped himself against Izumo’s stool. “‘Bully her’, yeah right. It’s a fucking joke. She can take a joke right?”

“Genma!” It went quiet on the side of the bar claimed by the ninja. The only one who did not look mildly surprised was Kakashi. Those at the table ceased speaking and looked to the bar.. After all, it was rare for Might Guy to raise his voice in anger at anyone. Genma shuttered slightly, unnerved by his ex-teammate’s uncharacteristic outburst. Guy’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed slightly in displeasure. “You were asked to stop, now stop.”

All talk concerning you ceased after that. The rest of the night went per usual up to closing. The whole crew came stumbling out of the closing bar. Ebisu supported Genma, holding him up by positioning himself under his ex-teammate’s arm. Asuma had two bodies slung over each shoulder. Somehow, Kakashi got shackled with the burden of one of the two. The rest of the group laughed together at his misfortune as the lights of the bar began to shut off behind them. Guy insisted on taking one that Asuma held. Asuma refused, however Kakashi was happy to hand the drunk Jounin off to Guy. As everyone began to go their separate ways and Guy found himself still walking with Kakashi. The Copy-Nin followed alongside wordlessly.

“Kotetsu and Izumo are going to be hungover for their mission tomorrow.” Guy remarked.

“Well, that’s not new.” Kakashi sighed.

The two continued on walking through the empty streets of the Leaf. Kakashi luckily knew their destination and guided his long time friend. Ever aloof, his attention was focused only forward. Guy kept leaning into what he assumed was his friend’s peripheral view. He opened his mouth before closing it again. He didn’t know what to say.

The apartment was close and soon the apartment was in their sight. Neither said a word and Guy was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the silence. Thoughts raced around his head, but where to start?

“Just spit it out, why don’t you?” Kakashi looked to Guy, opening the door with a borrowed set of keys fished from the passed out Jounin’s pocket. Both men stepped inside.

“I feel like I should’ve done something sooner,” Guy started, Kakashi helping with their passed out friend. “Kurenai is with her, isn’t she?”

Kakashi only hummed as he reversed their friend’s vest before allowing the body to slump sideways on the couch. He stood up silently and Guy closed the door behind them as they felt the evening air again.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, we didn’t know.”

“I should probably talk to her, shouldn’t I, Kakashi?” Guy sighed. Kakashi gave another wordless hum. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“You shouldn’t be saying anything.” Kakashi answered. The sharingan user looked at his friend. “I know you, Guy. You want to tackle the problem as soon as you can at its source. But you have to give this one time.” Guy waited for his eternal rival to elaborate. Kakashi exhaled deeply, raising both hands to intertwine with each other behind his neck. “I didn’t want to be the one to talk to you about it. It’s not my place, but I guess things have changed.”

“What has changed?” Guy inquired. Kakashi shifted, the gears in his brain turning as he chose his words.

“Remember what Genma was saying to you at the bar?” Kakashi prompted, a hand on his chin.

“Yeah?” Guy acknowledged slowly. He processed each word with care, determined to understand.

“What do you think he said to her when she was actually there? It wasn’t an ideal night for her. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.” It was as Guy suspected. While his first instinct was to be there for you, he now considered that his presence might make things worse.

“So what are you saying?” He questioned, still unsure of what he should be doing.

“I’m not surprised that you haven’t noticed, Guy, but (Y/N) admires you greatly. I guess the first question that you have to ask yourself is if you admire her too.”

“I-” Guy began before Kakashi cut him off. The pair stopped.

“I know,” Kakashi spoke with understanding. “Give her some space.”

That was the Copy Nin’s advice before he parted ways with his rival, leaving Guy and his thoughts alone on the Konoha streets.

Notes: I little bit of filler, something a little simple for y'all. For anyone wondering, they put the vest on backwards so that their passed out colleague wouldn’t roll on their back and choke on their own vomit. Take care of your drunk friends, kids!

I feel like I’m talking to myself all the time! Feel free to comment or reach out to me!

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dreaminae · 3 years

Text

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 14

Softly placing her hand upon his chest, Liv pushed Spencer back into his original spot in the passenger seat.

"What's wrong, Liv?" Spencer asked, confused by the shift in her mood.

Huffing, Olivia mentally prepared herself to confess. "I wanted to make sure I told you how I felt before telling you this, Spence. Because I want you to understand that what happening with me isn't because of you, Vegas, or what's happening between us."

Spencer nodded, letting Olivia gather her thoughts aloud.

"I'm going through something that could break me, but I won't let it because I'm going to get the help I need. I can't get into major detail right now because my family need the truth first."

"You will tell me you're ready," Spencer interjected, assuring a nervous Olivia that he understood her actions.

"The reason I'm telling you this is so that you don't worry about me." Olivia sighed.

"It's like you told me at the cabin," Spencer recalled. "Whatever it is that you're going through, you're strong enough to handle it."

"Thanks, Spencer." Liv exhaled with relief.

"Hey, and you already know to count on me for whatever you need," Spencer added supportively, grabbing her hand once more. "Even if it means just being here."

Liv grinned, tightening the hold on his hand she gestured towards the road she contently, "Let's head home."

Their drive was quiet, as Spencer allowed Liv to mentally prepare for what he assumed to be an impending larger confession.

They'd peak at each other now and again with cheeky grins. On her third grin towards Spencer, Liv only spaced for a second. And it took only a second for things to go array.

One moment Spencer's eyes were on Liv's adoring smile, the next his eyes were wide on the road.

"Liv, watch out!"

Her eyes tore from his in shock as a stray dog ran into the road. Swerving her steering wheel to keep from hitting the dog, Liv sent her car flying into the direction of the curbside. Pressing her breaks, she tried to no avail to keep from crashing into a black, parked car.

Smoke aired from Olivia's engine as she and Spencer accessed the damage of the crash.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry." Liv panicked, checking Spencer's arm.

"It's alright, Liv. I'm fine." Spencer moaned. "Are you?" He replied, concerned for her as well.

"Yeah. I think so." Liv moaned, checking over herself, Liv couldn't help but to think that things could've been worse.

------------------------------

"Why don't both of you put your hands outward where I can see them?" One officer hastily insisted after finding Olivia and Spencer at the scene of the crash.

"I can grab my license and registration if you give me a..." Liv suggested impulsively, one foot moving in the direction of her wrecked vehicle.

"Don't move, Ma'am!" The officer's voice boomed aggressively.

Spencer hand immediately grab hold of Liv's, holding her in place.

"Back to your places with your hands where I can see them. Both of you!" He aggressively repeated.

Olivia froze in place at a loss for words. Spencer gave her a stern expression, so she followed his lead staying unwaveringly obedient.

"My partner is running your plates. We'll find out who's car this is soon enough." The officer spat accusingly.

Liv rolled her eyes in disbelief of the indirect accusation of grand theft auto. "It's registered to my parents. Which you'd know if you had allowed me to show you my documents." Liv sniped rebelliously.

"That's enough out of you." The officer groaned, annoyed by Liv's verbal upheaval. "Instead of sassying me, how about telling me about the accident."

"What do you want to know?" Liv responded.

"Who was driving?" The officer demanded to know.

Spencer eyed Liv with uncertainty, wondering if he might need to take the fall. However, before he could Olivia answered the police officer.

"I was driving." Liv chirped undoubtedly.

"Are you intoxicated?" The officer asked, eyeing Liv suspiciously.

And for the hundredth time this weekend, Liv found herself grateful that she hadn't taken her infamous blue bottle to the cabin this weekend.

"No, I am not." Liv sighed honestly, resulting in Spencer releasing a breath of relief he hadn't been aware he was holding. "You can test me if you want?" Liv challenged.

The officer opened his mouth to sprout a comeback, but his partner joined the conversation before he could.

"Your vehicle is listed under D.A Baker ownership." The female cop hastily spoke, silently discouraging her partner from pressing the teen further.

"That's right." Olivia agreed. "She's my mom."

Moaning agitatedly, the male officer gave in, refusing to be reported for harassing the district attorney's kid. "I suggest calling your mother before she gets worried. My and I will see if we can get a toll for your vehicle."

"You do that." Liv sniped sarcastically, frustrated by the cop's clear double standards.

Spencer gazed at Liv with a disapproving expression to which she shrugged in response. Her demeanor was that of a social justice warrior, while he was of carried the persona of a young survivor. Despite the serious situation, he couldn't help admire how she held strong under adversity.

-----------------------------

Almost two hours rolled by into the late-night when Spencer and Olivia found themselves at the Baker residence.

"Let's just be glad no one was hurt." Laura's voice rang into the Bakers' kitchen as she set her purse on the countertop. "Things could've been much worse."

Several scenarios of the night flashed through Liv's mind in the last two hours. One where she had been intoxicated and arrested. Another where she'd crashed while under the influence, pleading with Spencer to take the fall. Even one where she'd lost her own life at the wheel of her alcohol abuse.

No longer able to hold onto her darkest secret, she confessed to her mother what she'd been hiding since the end of summer.

"It could've been worse," Liv muttered her mother's words in a lifeless tone, gaining Laura's attention. "Had this happened even a week ago, I would've been arrested for drinking while intoxicated."

Laura's eyes tore up from her phone, perplexed by her daughter's words. "Why would you say that Liv? You don't drink."

"But I have been drinking." Liv finally admitted. "This is the first weekend in months that I've been completely sober."

Laura's eyes watered with tears of denial. "No, because I had you tested and you passed. You could've have cheated that test."

"You tested me for paraphernalia." Olivia corrected. "Not alcohol. Which is why I passed the test."

"I asked you, Liv. I asked if you were using, and you said no. Even your Dad asked you. So what, you just lied to us?" Laura inquired, tears streaming down ber cheeks as she tried to contain her emotions.

"I told you the truth. I haven't been taking any drugs, prescriptions, or anything like that." Liv replied, her voice cracking under her mother's disappointed gaze. "Not that it matters." She acknowledges. "I told myself it was okay to drink because it wasn't a pill. But it's not okay. I know that now. I swear I know." She cried.

"Why, Liv? You've been doing so well." Laura wept for her daughter's abandoned recovery.

"That's just it! I'm not doing well. I haven't been for a while!" Olivia shouted, wanting her mother to see the truth. "I can't remember the last good night's sleep I had. I can't remember a night where I didn't dread being alone with my thoughts. I don't remember a day this past summer where I didn't depend on having company to keep myself from wanting to drink or pop a random pill. My sponsor's been A-Wall since before summer. You have your new job, Dad is hardly around, and Jordan has his own life to worry about. I didn't want to feel like a burden. I thought I had it under control, but it's falling apart! I just want it to be over, Mom!" Liv ranted out in tears, "I just want it all to be over."

Sensing that Liv had finally released all her built-up angst, Spencer embraced her, allowing her to cry on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She whispered in a hushed tone, leaning her head on Spencer's shoulder. She hoped he was too disappointed in her. "I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh.." Spencer insisted gently, running his fingers through her curls. "It's alright. You're gonna be alright."

Laura breathed heavily, silently processing her daughter's breakdown.

Continuing to coax Liv down from her panic attack, Spencer kissed the side of her temple. "I'm proud of you for telling the truth," Spencer assured Liv supportively.

Holding him closer, Liv sniffled. "Thanks."

Their intimate moment broke at the sound of Laura clearing her throat. Pulling away from Spencer, Olivia faced her distraught mother.

"I didn't mean for it all to come out this way." Olivia apologized, clear-minded enough to have a formal discussion. "But with the crash, I couldn't keep it in any longer."

"It's been a long night, and right now I'd like both of us to get some rest." Laura stated, "Tomorrow, your father and I will decide what is the best route to take to help you."

"I know what Dad will want. And I know you probably want to send me to rehab, as well." Liv immediately added as before her mother could end the discussion. "But I'm begging you not to, Mom."

"Now isn't the time to discuss this. I need to take Spencer home. Your father and I will decide tom-"

"Mom, please." Liv pleads, grabbing Laura's hand. "This isn't like last time. I came to you this time. I admit to drinking, and I will do whatever I need to get better. Just don't send me away again." Olivia groveled.

Pulling away her hand Laura reached for her purse and car keys. "We will talk about this tomorrow. Not tonight. I'm taking Spencer home, and you need to bed."

Dropping her hand at her side, Liv nodded, sensing her mom was going unwavered. "Fine. Can I at least say goodbye to Spencer?"

Laura glared at Liv, telling her daughter not to push her luck.

"This might be the last time I see him for a while." Liv assumed. "Please, mom."

Huffing, Laura nodded. "Five minutes. I will be in the car. I expect Spencer there in five minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer answered on both their behalf as Laura left the room.

Liv's hands instinctively entwined with Spencer's.

"This isn't how I planned for tonight to go." Liv moaned defeatedly. "I ruined it for us."

"You didn't ruin anything, Liv. I knew there was a chance of this happening. Kia warned me earlier that she suspected you are drinking or thinking about it." Spencer revealed his earlier conversation with the young activist.

"You knew this entire night. When we were in the car? When I told you that I love you? During the crash?" Liv questioned, stunned. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I know you'd do the right thing in the end, and come clean. If not tonight, then later on in the week." Spencer disclosed. "I trust you, Liv. You asked me to let you do this on your own, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Thank you." Liv cooed with tears in her eyes. Her hand caressed Spencer's cheek. "I know this isn't what you had in mind when you pictured the night we finally got together."

"With everything that's happened tonight, and what might happen after tonight, I want to be clear," Spencer spoke seriously, tugging on Liv's hips to pull her closer.

The space between them closed as their lips met in a sensual kiss. Holding the sides of his face, Liv molded with Spencer returning the gentle movements. Licking her bottom lip, Spencer tasted her gloss once more. His tongue massaging hers for dominance, causing Liv to giggle as she let him take the lead. Spencer's lips left hers, trailing down her neck as she held him close. Breathing in her scent, Spencer engraved this moment into the back of his mind, hoping it wouldn't be their last in the coming days.

#3x07 #all american #olivia and spencer #olivia baker #spelivia #spencer and olivia #spencer james #3x08

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writtenbynath · 3 years

Text

The henchman

Because we couldn't really play at Charmed, I wrote about a scene we might have had. If you like this story and want to see more, please consider supporting me on Patreon.

With a click of the lock, he let us into his hotel room. As he walked into the room to turn on the lights and close the curtains, I pushed her up against the wall to kiss her. She answered enthusiastically by groping my breasts and ass through my dress. She was delicious in every way, her full lips, her hands all over me, the happy giggle that came with every move I made to press her against the wall and grind against her. Then I noticed him standing in the middle of the room looking at us.

"You don't mind, do you?" I grinned at him and she giggled.

He smiled warmly. "As wonderful as you two are to watch, we did have a plan I'm eager to get to." He walked over to the closet and started to take out the things we would need for our plan.

With a nod and a smile, I backed away so she could walk into the room. "There will be time for me to ravish you later…"

She kicked off her shoes, went over to the bed and laid down to give us space to make preparations. I leaned against the wall for a moment, just staring at her, I had never told her this, but she reminded me of that girl I knew back in college. The reason I knew for certain that I am bi, despite all the erasure and preconceptions life threw at me. Sure, I like guys, I like people well enough and I think beauty is more than just skin deep. But oh my… She was my type. She was the prettiest, cutest woman I had ever laid hands on.

I took a deep breath and turned to watch him start to take off his clothes and get ready to put on the latex bodysuit. A bottle of lube stood ready to help him. For a moment, I was overcome by how he had welcomed me into this whole situation, I felt so honoured that he wanted to do this with me, that he had cast me in this role. When I first met him, I had admired how suave and debonair he was from afar, looking up at him as an accomplished kinkster, much moreso than I. And now, here I was…

I turned to look in the mirror beside the closet. "Do I need to change?" I asked.

"I wouldn't mind... if you want…." She giggled as she lay on her chest, showing off her cleavage and wiggling her bare feet up in the air. She was shy to flirt with me, but I appreciated the effort.

He glanced at me as he was putting on the latex. "I really like the dress. Maybe lose the fluffy shrug and put your hair up to make it more stern?"

"Good thinking." I hung the shrug on the coat rack by the door and got a hairtie out of my handbag to put my hair up into a tight bun.

"You should both know that I'm actually a terrible wimp who doesn't want to hurt anyone." I said as I did my hair. "I'm going to rely heavily on you to let me know that you're still enjoying what we're doing, or I won't dare to go on." I turned to give him a meaningful look as I referenced something we had previously done together. "You know how I move forward very carefully and look for signs that you want to keep going."

He nodded as he carefully pulled his arms through the tight latex sleeves. "And you know that I will find ways to signal 'green' to you."

"I probably can't even hide how much I'm enjoying the struggle." She supported her head with her hands as she lay on the bed. "The meaner you are, the more I'll like it." She blushed and hid her face in her hands.

I cleared my throat. "I also want you both to know that any suggestions or triggers I give you will only last until this scene ends and we leave the room again. This is a fantasy."

She nodded at me. "Of course."

"No worries." He managed to smile at me again, even though he was busy pulling the suit up around his shoulders and making sure the elbows were in the right place.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and touch up my makeup. When I returned looking all smooth and pale again, she was helping him close the zipper of the bodysuit. He was all glistening blackness now with his strong shoulders and his V-shaped body. He put on the hood with the shiny gasmask and asked in a muffled voice: "Where do you want me?"

I moved in to embrace him and grab his ass, running my hands over the slick surface of the suit. "I want you right here." I moaned playfully.

She gasped, watching us with excited eyes as she sat back down on the bed.

He stood up straight as I groped him, trying to remain still, but I could feel a bulge starting to grow under the suit against my hip. I took pleasure in that for a moment, but I realised that they were both being so quiet because they were ready to begin. It was my move now.

I looked around the room for things I could use and I noticed the mirror on the wall next to the closet. I let go of him, stepped aside and slapped him on the ass with a playful grin. "Get the chair and place it facing the mirror. I want you to sit there looking at yourself."

He did exactly as I asked, his movements stiff and slow, but I couldn't tell whether that was because he was getting into character or because the suit was restrictive. When he sat down, I leaned against the closet so he could probably see me from the corner of his eyes, while he was looking ahead into the mirror. Truth be told, I couldn't see his face under the shiny black mask at all, but he had assured me previously that his vision was great in this mask.

"As you look at the drone in front of you…" I found my softer, deeper hypnotist voice as I started to build the fantasy. "I want you to imagine the brainwashing facility, where there are rows upon rows of faceless drones like this. Sitting still while the gas that flows through the masks subdues them into an open, suggestible state. So that the recording that plays through the headphones they're wearing can blank their minds, take away their will and mold them into mindless, obedient drones."

I glanced at her as she sat on the bed, watching and listening, quietly but visibly excited by the scene I was describing. And perhaps by the sound of my voice too.

"I want you to remember how you sat there in that facility," I continued to him. "So still and warm, encased in shiny slickness. Inhaling the gas with every breath. Feeling yourself become more and more mindless and obedient with every word that reverberates in your empty head. Resistance is futile. None of the other drones have managed it, so why would you be able to? The gas makes you compliant, that's just how it works on a hormonal level in your body, no matter how much willpower you might have had when this all began. You don't remember how long ago. Your will is gone now. You are just a drone in my army, obedient to me. Brainwashed to help me subdue and recruit more people. And every order you obey just emphasises how mindless and compliant you are."

I watched him sit there for a moment, the image of long rows of identical shiny, black suits lingering on my mind as well. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the smooth black surface again, so I touched his shoulder. And then I forcefully grabbed the back of his neck.

"Drone six. Get up." I commanded him as I stood behind the chair.

He immediately stood up from the chair, his back straight, his shiny mask blank.

"Put the chair in the corner." I ordered, pointing.

There was a pronounced robotic quality to his movements as he lifted up the chair and walked towards the door of the hotel room to set it down there.

"And lock the door, drone." The cold, commanding tone in my voice contrasted with the way I casually walked over to the other side of the room. I locked eyes with her, still sitting on the bed. "So she can't escape."

She gasped. It was her move now. She looked at me, standing near the window, and then at him, blocking the door with the chair and locking it with a loud click. She glanced at the bathroom door, probably wondering if she could reach it and hide in there.

"Seize her!" I commanded.

The drone spun around and launched towards her, catching her just as she reached the edge of the bed. The struggle was violent but quick. He pinned her arms behind her back and held them there with one hand, holding her tightly around the waist with the other arm.

I stepped into the open space at the foot of the bed and beckoned him. "Bring her here."

His footsteps stomped on the carpet as he pushed her towards me. She squirmed weakly in his grip, making delicious high-pitched noises. As she got closer to me, she lowered her head to look down at her feet. He was much taller and he just lifted her up with every other heavy step, as he brought her towards me.

I stepped in and grasped her by the neck and chin to lift her head up. "Look at me."

Her eyes were large and full of doubt. Did she want to look at me? The memory of being hypnotised by staring into my eyes in a previous encounter was still fresh in her mind. Or was she afraid to look at me? Afraid that I would take away her will and her mind and make her into a mindless drone as well? She bit her lip and I could feel her swallow under my hand.

I remembered how she hand assured me that meaner would be better. And I noticed how the drone nodded at me and pushed her forward into my grip. So I gripped her chin more firmly, letting some of my fingers squeeze the soft skin of her throat. "You cannot escape." I let my voice drop to a whisper. "You could struggle, in theory. But that would only take time. I will overpower your mind, just like my drone has overpowered you physically. In a direct battle of your will against mine, you know that you're losing. Losing control. Losing the will to fight me…"

There was a change in her eyes. They could no longer focus on me, and the eyelids with the sparkly makeup started to droop. Her lips parted with an inaudible gasp.

"So you surrender." I concluded as I pulled her head down until it flopped forward and her eyes closed. I felt a rush of power; I was in control.

As she slumped in his arms, the drone shifted on his feet, but somehow despite the glossy black mask I could tell that was not just about shifting her weight in his arms. He was enjoying this too.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against her cheek as I whispered in her ear. "You are helpless against my power. And I just want to toy with you right now. Even when you wake up in a moment, you'll find that you're so open to my suggestions, everything I say becomes real to you. You can squirm and struggle and feel ashamed that your helplessness is turning you on, and all of that. But you are my plaything now." I kissed her cheek. She smelled so delicious that I trailed little kisses to her lips and I gently cupped her jaw to give her a long, hot kiss.

Even though her eyes were closed and her mind was open, she was such a wonderful kisser. Her lips moved, her tongue touched mine and she moaned softly. When I finally retreated, she lifted up her face towards me wit a moan full of yearning.

I gave my henchman a mischievous look to let him know something was coming. And then I aimed carefully and slapped her on the cheek. "Wake up!"

He braced accordingly and held her tightly so she could hardly jolt and stumble from the shock. She did however squeal delightfully, and she gave me a priceless look of shock.

"There you are, my plaything." I chuckled and lazily reclined on the bed.

"Let me go!" She struggled in his arms and he didn't even move an inch. The mask was blank and emotionless but in the crotch of the suit I could spy that bulge that told me he was happy.

I smiled benevolently. "You want him to release you?"

She strained and tried to wiggle out of his grip. "Yes!"

With a nonchalant gesture, I snapped my fingers. "Release her. And stand to attention."

Immediately, he let her go. He took one step away from her as she hugged herself, and then he put his hands behind his back and raised his chin up as if he were looking at the ceiling fan above the bed.

She stood there for a moment, stretching after being held so tightly for so long.

"You're not sure what to do now, are you my plaything?" I noticed how my voice turned into an amused sing-song, and I leaned into that. "Are you confused?"

"I eh…" She looked around the room, as if looking for answers. "I guess…" Her eyes rested on the drone in the shiny black suit and it gave me an idea.

"Do you recognise him?" I asked as I scooted towards the edge of the bed. "He used to be your lover before he became my mindless drone."

He flinched. It was hard to tell what it meant exactly, but his breathing became more visible, his shoulders rising and falling a little faster than before. He made an effort to not move, but something was definitely going on behind that glossy black surface.

She stared at him, and tentatively reached out to him with her hand. "Can you hear me?"

I chuckled. "Of course he can hear you. The drone is fully functional. He just doesn't remember you, nor does he feel anything. He has been brainwashed to be obedient and compliant." I fell into my hypnotist voice, to help him feel more like a mindless drone. "Turn towards her, drone. You can see her, you can hear her. But her words mean nothing to you. The only thing you understand are my commands. Remember the mantras that echoed in your empty head. You must obey."

With two heavy steps, he turned towards her. His shoulders were straight and his arms were rigid. His chin was still up, as if he was looking over the top of her head into the distance.

Her hand touched his chest, ever so slightly pressing into the smooth black surface. "Don't you remember me?" She looked up at him, almost pleading.

"Push her away, drone." I grinned as I watched them.

His strong arms mercilessly pushed her away and it turned into another struggle. He remained rigid and robotic while she passionately fought to touch him, proclaiming her love for him, begging him to listen to her. After shoving her away a few times, he resolved the situation by grabbing her in another tight hold, one hand around her wrists, and his other hand holding her by the hair on the back of her head. It was a weakness we both knew about her; if you grabbed her by the hair she melted in your hands. She stared up at the glossy black surface of the mask as if her gaze might pierce it, and it gave me another idea.

I had been watching them with baited breath, biting my lip, but this was the perfect moment for me to speak. "Well done, drone." I couldn't help that my hypnotist voice turned sultry and smouldering, they were turning me on so much. "You've got her in the right grip for the brainwashing unit in your hand to connect to her brain."

Her eyes grew large and she squirmed, trying to move her head. His grip was strong however, and her renewed struggle only resulted in a tremble and a shake.

I got up from the bed to touch her and bring my voice closer to her ears, knowing that would help with the suggestions. "As the unit connects to your nervous system, you might feel an electric jolt that travels down through your spine to your crotch. It's an unfortunate side-effect that can't be helped."

She gasped, shuddering in his grip. To my surprise, the drone moved too. His breathing quickened and there was a jerk in his hips.

"But as we developed the technique more over time, we've found that the arousal that grows in the subject actually helps the brainwashing take hold. It's very hard to resist something that feels so good, isn't it?" I hovered around her, keeping a close eye on both of them. "Feel how the connection is made in the back of your head, and the current travels through your body, washing away your resistance. Look at him, so mindless and empty. He couldn't fight it, and neither can you. You'll end up just like him as you feel my control creep into your head."

She swayed in his grip, her eyes glossing over as she stared up at the shiny surface of the mask. He let go of her wrists and her arms fell limply to her sides. Her shivering body slumped a little, as if the only thing holding her up was the strong hand on the back of her head.

I groped her breasts, trying to find and tweak her nipples through her shirt, as I continued to narrate the fantasy. "We haven't worked out why or how the brainwashing causes this strong arousal, but we've noticed that when the brainwashing unit in a drone's hand is activated to turn a new subject, both the subject and the drone suffer from it. As my power travels through your body and takes hold of your neural pathways, it fills you with sexual pleasure. If you are feeling any pleasure at the moment, that means you are under my control. And as the pleasure builds and grows inside you, it washes away your thoughts, making you more mindless and obedient."

Her eyes rolled up into her head and her lips parted as she moaned. Meanwhile, he bucked his hips and the bulge under his suit twitched and moved as his breathing became more laboured, making his shoulders rise and fall more quickly.

I licked my lips at this delicious scene I had crafted. "The pleasure is an essential part of the process now. The more you submit to this arousal, the faster it will take hold of you, the more helpless and compliant you become, and when you eventually come, that means the process is complete and you are my mindless drone. So you want to surrender to it, don't you?"

#hypnokink #consensualhypnofics

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Note

could you please do a reaction to ateez finding out your tumblr profile? like it was supposed to be hidden but they snuck up or something and saw it? thank you!

❥ kim hongjoong

you had a tumblr before you started dating hongjoong and it was the only form of social media you kept after going public with your relationship. it was an account no one knew about, where you were still able to have close contact with your friends and have some form of entertainment.

and if you just so happen to stumble upon gifs and videos of your boyfriend, then you’d give it a like or reblog. just for fun and to support the content creators, not because you throughly enjoyed them and thought he was-

“is that me?”

you jump at hearing your boyfriend’s voice, your eyes widening as you turn your phone into your chest; you hadn’t even heard it come in.

“no!” you tried to deny but he’d already seen it, walking over and raising an eyebrow at you. he pecked your cheek and insisted that if you wanted pictures of him, he’d be more than happy to take some from you while he’s out at practice or in the studio.

❥ park seonghwa

“let me see it, baby.”

“it’s nothing,” you whine, sitting under your phone with a rampant blush on your cheeks. you were just scrolling through your social media accounts before bed, craning your neck over your shoulder to check if seonghwa had come out of the bathroom; but you still heard the water running and deemed it safe to check, looking through the few ateez accounts you started following a few weeks ago.

something about it felt weird but you liked seeing his face pop up on your dashboard, knowing that you had an extra outlet for information if you couldn’t get into direct contact with him.

that was until he came up behind you and called your name softly, a gasp leaving you as your phone fell to the floor. you scrambled to pick it up and sat on it, the boy immediately raising his eyebrow at you.

and it was with one stern look you let out a sigh, flipping your phone over to show case a gif of him dancing. he bit his lip to hide his smile, something soft and warm filling his chest as he places a kiss on top of your head.

you whine at him in embarrassment but he only presses a finger to your lips, admitting that he thinks it’s cute you look at those things.

❥ jeong yunho

it was really your friend’s fault in the first place, a link she sent you with yunho and his “cute friend you just have to set her up with,” leading down the spiral of ateez tagged content.

you had never had a tumblr and didn’t know how it worked but you quickly discovered it was a great place to see cute little pictures and videos of your boyfriend when he was away on tour or shows and you couldn’t see him.

but when yunho surprised you a day early and walked in unannounced, he saw his face on your phone and a small smile immediately lit his face. “what is that?” you squealed at the sound of his voice, your phone flying in the air and plopping on the couch as you turned around.

you didn’t even have the time to be embarrassed or mad at him for scaring you because you hadn’t seen him in weeks, rushing over to him and throwing yourself into him. he laughs against your head as he puts his arms around you, pulling back after a long-awaited hug with a small smile on his face.

and that’s when the embarrassment floods through you, biting down on your lip because he just caught you looking at him on tumblr. “i…can explain, my friend showed me that at first because she has a crush on seonghwa and-“

he shakes his head as he places a kiss on your lips, mumbling that he missed you too.

❥ kang yeosang

“why does he do this? is he kidding me? i could seriously just-“

“what are you doing?”

and if you weren’t tipsy from your night out with him and the boys, you would’ve never outed yourself. would’ve never shoved your phone in his face with your tumblr profile displayed and asked your shy, reserved boyfriend why he does this for other people to see.

he couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling out of him, taking you in his arms and guiding your stumbling frame to the bedroom. and it’s only the next morning, your head pounding the second your eyes open and you see yeosang looking down at you, that he smirks and pokes fun at you for last night.

“so…how long have you had that account?”

you try to play dumb at first but then with morning hair and puffy eyes, he sticks his tongue out and brings his thumb to his mouth teasingly, a horrified gasp leaving you because you can recall that gif far too well.

❥ choi san

a tiny noise in the back of your throat alerts san immediately, eating his food with your feet in his lap. it was rather bold of you to start with, scrolling through tumblr right next to him when you know you see posts of him.

but you hadn’t ever seen one like this, even given the... obvious duality to your boyfriend. because now, he’s turned and looking at with his mouth stuffed with noodles, his head turned to the side as he asks if you’re okay.

“ye-yeah, sorry,” you mumble out, heating rushing to your cheeks as you get out an excuse about something being stuck in your throat. but then he smirks after swallowing his food, raising an eyebrow that proves he just doesn’t quite believe you.

and how could he, when the mirror behind you has been giving you away this whole time?

“you sure about that?” he asks with a small smile, ditching his food as he leans over and places a kiss on the tip of your nose. you scrunch it up as you hide your phone away from him, gasping when the boy nods his head behind you and you see your reflection staring back at you.

❥ song mingi

you tried to stay away from looking at your boyfriend’s presence on social media. something about it made you feel awkward, almost like you shouldn’t be looking at it as someone who knows him in real life.

but sometimes they just pop up and you can’t bring yourself to look away or not give it a like. you thought mingi was sleeping as you laid in bed and double clicked your screen, reminding yourself to find a video of that performance and watch it for science.

“you’re not gonna reblog it?”

a gasp leaves your mouth at your boyfriend’s deep teasing voice, turning over and smacking him in the arm roughly. “how did you…why do you…how do you even know about that!” a smirk makes its way on his face as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, telling you that if you’re good, he’ll let you wear that shirt one day.

❥ jung wooyoung

wooyoung couldn’t help running over to tease you when he saw you scrolling, the familiar dance move and scene catching his eye on your phone immediately.

“now who is that?”

you let out a gasp as you hear wooyoung right behind you, a quiet “ahh,” leaving you that cause him to throw his head back in laughter. he had no idea you followed him or his group’s presence on social media but he can’t say he was mad about it, pressing a kiss on your cheek before rubbing at the warm skin with his finger.

“what’s your account name? wooyoungswifey?”

“you’re disgusting, of course not!” you squeal, hitting at your boyfriend who only continues to tease you relentlessly.

“do you write fan fiction about me? no need to, babe, when you got the real thing right here.”

you hide your face in your pillow and resist the urge to scream, wooyoung’s laugh ringing in your ears only making your embarrassment worse.

❥ choi jongho

you let out a giggle and eye roll scrolling on your tumblr account, shaking your head at the sight you’re all too familiar with. and jongho must notice because, without your knowledge, he peeks over and catches the sight of him on your phone screen.

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face as he continues to cook for you, not calling you out until he places your food down. you immediately feel your face flush, stammering and stuttering that you don’t go on a lot and only sometimes like pictures of him.

“sometimes?” he asks with a look of concern on his face. “why only sometimes? you should be liking them all the time.”

you roll your eyes at you throw a carrot at him, embarrassment still coursing through you but happy he didn’t tease you too bad about it.

#💌#request #ateez reactions

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elai-okonma · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10. Jesus Wept

Thank you to @obeymekookie for always supporting my work<3

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, TORTURE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ETC.

Word count: 2,064

Devildom

The brothers were still outside watching the light show in the sky when Diavolo spoke up, they had forgotten that he was even there. He looks to Lucifer, whose eyes were glued to the Celestial skies above.

“I don't understand, who would want to start another war??”

“Does anyone else think it suspicious that Simeon disappeared right before all this started?? I mean, it was very unlike him to leave the way he did. He looked really concerned.”

“Maybe so, we’ll just have to ask him when he comes back. Or better yet! Someone text him on his DDD!”

Asmodeus is the one who whips out his phone and sends the message:

Hey, do you know anything about what’s going on up in the Celestial Realm, right now??

Is it another war??

I hope you’re ok!

Simeon??

Hello??

…

No answer. Asmo tries to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Honestly, what the fuck is going on up there??

Another few minutes goes by, before the black sky goes quiet.

“Huh… well, it seems that the fighting has stopped.”

“Lord Diavolo, we need to finish our conversation about Belphie, but that will have to wait. If there is another Celestial war starting, then we need to find Satan, and then come up with a plan.” states Lucifer.

“Why would we need to do that?? If there was another war, why would we need to be involved?? We don’t know if it’s directed at us, or the human realm. It could even be just amongst themselves, for all we know.” replies Diavolo.

Lucifer is stern with his words: “That’s right we don’t know. We don’t know anything about what just happened up there, but what I do know is that, that was Celestial Ash falling down upon us, and in all my years as an Angel I’ve never seen that. And even more, what little I have read about it, was vague. There is little to no information on it. So yeah, it might not be directed at us, but wouldn’t you rather be prepared for if it were??”

Diavolo thinks on this. He knows Lucifer is right, his priority is the people of the Devildom. Every Demon is his responsibility. Including Satan, and Belphegor.

“Ok, you all continue to search for Satan, I'll be leaving with Barbatos to tend to other matters back at the palace. Try to stay in the house until we figure out a plan.”

The Lord and his butler turn to take their leave, making haste back to the castle. The two knew what they had to do. They were going to have to let Belphegor know what had happened, and even try to find out if he knew where Satan might be. They didn’t expect any type of cooperation from him though, and quite frankly the two didn’t ever want to see the youngest brothers face again.

“How do you suppose we go about this??” asks the Demon Lord, once they are back home.

“Any way you’d like, my Lord. I know you never wanted to see Belphegor for as long as he lived, which is why you exiled him from the Devildom. So, however you want to go about this, I will support you.”

______________________________________________

The Celestial Realm:

As you sit restrained on the shore, you hear Elai speak up quietly:

“MC….do you have any idea what the penalty is for attacking an Archangel…

You stare up at your friends, not knowing what to say. What was there to say?? What was going to happen, now that you betrayed what was technically your Celestial brother. You don’t get long to think nor answer Elai’s question before you hear a loud, booming voice come from the night:

“MC!!!!!”

Your eyes widen at the familiar voice, your hand shakily coming up to cover your mouth. The three Angels next to you flinch when they hear your name. Fuck, is the only thought you can form, the seriousness of the situation becoming more clear.

That familiar blue light piercing through the dark sky, as you look up.

“Father…”

It was the last word you heard before you covered your eyes to shield them from the light.

When you open them, you notice you’re in a dark, unfamiliar room. The only light source was from your halo. It’s only when you try to walk forward, you realize you can’t. Panic starts to set in when you try your arms, but those also fail you. Looking around frantically, you crane your head around over your shoulders to try to see your surroundings but it’s no use. However, you hear metal clanking and it dawns on you that the reason you can’t move is because you’re chained up. You didn’t even notice the cold of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists.

Ok, let’s try to get some bearings, here…

You tug at the cuff on your left wrist, then your right. Solid. I’m not going anywhere. Your shoulders start to ache from your arms being strung up above you, and your toes barely touch the ground. I’m suspended from my wrists. The chain, I'm assuming, goes up to the ceiling. The cuffs around my ankles are most likely chained to the floor.

The presence you feel behind of you now, interrupts your thoughts.

“Who’s there?!” you call out, voice echoing of the walls.

The warm breath you feel on your ear sends a shiver up your spine. It’s followed by a low, smooth voice that makes you sick to your stomach.

“Hello, MC…”

You don’t recognize the person, and that makes your breathing pick up, you’re scared now.

“W-w-who are you-u??” your voice falters, throat thick with panic.

A low pitched laugh, followed by an answer:

“You wouldn’t know me, would you?? I’m not very talked about down in the Devildom, huh??”

A hand runs through your hair, gripping the back of your skull. You feel another hand tracing your jawline and lips. Something warm and wet makes its way up your cheek, and you can’t stop the tears that start to flow from your eyes.

You try again, hoping for an answer, “who are you?!”

The person is in front of you, now. He leans down to your ear again, “the left hand of God, the Archangel of Mercy and Redemption, the One who told Mary she would birth the son of our Father...I could go on all day with who I am, but for now, you can call me Gabriel.”

You hear a loud crack, then feel a sting on your belly. A whip. You yelp at the sudden feeling but it’s soon followed by another, then another. You barely have time to catch your breath before you choke out:

“I-i-is t-this my punis-shment for-r attac-cking M-michael??...”

The laughter that fills the room makes your insides knot.

“I would suggest not asking questions, that you really don’t want the answer to…”

You try to steady your breathing, but with your skin itching from the welts it was almost impossible. Gabriel speaks again, this time sounding like a judge reading off a sentence.

“...MC, for the attempted murder and assault of Archangel Michael, you are hereby sentenced to the Seven Terraces of Purgatory…”

Another crack of the whip. You hang your head down as Gabriel continues:

“...and after that, you are to be sent to the Labyrinth of Judas…”

You didn’t understand what these places were, but that didn’t stop you from trying to put the words with the context.

Judas, yes, I know who he is.

Purgatory, I’ve heard little about it.

And Labyrinth, another word for a type of maze.

Putting everything together made you realize just how fucked you actually were. All you could do was stay silent as the whip kept cracking down all over your body. Do you regret doing what you did?? Absolutely not. Anything for them. What could Gabriel do to you that hadn’t already been done, being tortured before being sent to the void?? An easy road to walk if it meant getting home to your Demons.

Sensing your newfound willingness to accept your punishment, Gabriel cracks the whip down on your face this time. You let out another yelp, and you hear the Archangel snarl. When you ready yourself for another hit, it doesn’t happen. You relax your muscles and take a shaky breath. Gabriel’s voice sounds farther away, now:

“I bet you think you’re special, MC. I bet you think you’re going to come out of all of this unscathed. But you’re wrong. You see MC, it’s my job to send you off, but no one said when. Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t avenge my brother?? Our Father might be merciful, but I am not.”

You decide to take this opportunity and clear some things up;

“Michael asked ME to make a pact with HIM, not the other way around. Had I known what it meant I would’ve declined the offer! I don’t regret what I did to him, and I don’t feel sorry for him, either. I hope he loses the wing that I ruined.

You feel that same sadistic energy from before come over you, and you look right at Gabriel.

“I relish in the thought of you going through all this trouble for me. You asked me if I thought I was special, and though it was obviously a rhetorical question, I’ll give you an answer anyway. I don’t think I’m special, I know I’m special. I fuck Demons, and get marriage proposals from Archangels. Do you honestly think that there won’t be repercussions for your actions here today?? Because let me tell ya, as soon as I get back to Lucifer and the others, mmmmh, it turns me on thinking of what they’ll do to you.”

Gabriel is right in your face now, breathing heavily, and truly enjoying every minute of this interaction.

“Ohhhh MC, something needs to be done about that mouth of yours. I could shut you up in more ways than one, but the easiest option would be to just simply plug it up.”

Something soft but dense enters your mouth. A ball gag, how original. You roll your eyes. He was going to have to do a hell of a lot worse than this. You hear him walk away again, but then comes right back, holding something that you thought looked like a wreath in his hand.

“MC, you would look absolutely stunning if you wore this…”

You feel him slam down the sharp object onto your head, and you let out a muffled scream. A crown of fucking thorns. The action caused you to grip onto the chains that were attached to your cuffs. The feeling of your warm blood dripping down your face and head makes you laugh around the gag.

“You’re enjoying this way too much, MC. I didn’t know we had a masochist amongst us.”

I you mumble through the gag.

“Hmm?? You have something you wish to say??” Gabriel pulls the gag out of your mouth, drool spilling out onto your chin, and you’re quick to correct the Archangel:

“Sadomasochist.” you say with a confirming smile, eyes blown out and hooded with satisfaction.

A guttural moan slips past his lips, and you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh at him, the crown of thorns staying in place. You look back down at him, eyes meeting his gaze.

“My my, Gabriel, I didn’t peg you as the type to get off torturing your own kind.”

The instant you said it, you knew you struck a nerve. His eyes were dark and the features of his face were cold.

“First off MC, do not put yourself in the same ranking as me. I’m an Archangel, you are a human turned Angel. A gift given to you by my Father. Remember that when you fall. And lastly, I do not ‘get off’ on torturing my own kind, I get off on torturing you.”

As he shoves the ball gag back into your mouth, he draws his other hand back and slaps you across the face so hard, that the light from your halo dimmed out for a second.

“Now MC, what shall we do with all this time we have on our hands??”

You shoot Gabriel your most dirtiest look, a look that says; ‘let’s play’.

#obey me!#obey me fanfic #obey me luficer #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #Obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon

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your-rose-highness · 4 years

Text

Tell Me What Is Love (ch-5)

The breakfast was rather awkward. Hye Hee’s post- drunk brain was failing to comprehend the situation and Baekhyun only made small talk with Jane, very interested in her family whereabouts and her struggles of the past. Hye Hee scanned him the entire time, reading his every move. Baekhyun caught her eye a couple of times while he spoke to Jane, only to quickly look away, which made it look even more suspicious.

“What was Baekhyun doing in my dingy apartment so early on a Monday morning?” she thought to herself.

The three of them did the dishes and chilled in the living area before Jane left to go for the shift. Baekhyun and hye hee stayed silent for a long time before Baekhyun asked, “why have you been drinking so much?”

“I’m a grown woman. I can drink when I want to.`` she sternly replied.

“That's not what I meant. And you know that.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come to visit..?”

Hye Hee sat quietly. Baekhyun began twitching beside her when she looked over at him.

“The sofa is uncomfortable….”, he whimpered.

“I’m sorry it doesn’t suit your royal ass.”

“Why did you drink?”

“... I can't switch things because you don't like them…”

“Hye Hee, stop avoiding the question... Why did you..?”

“... plus why are you here anyway? Go run back to Taeyeon.”

“Excuse me? You were the one who suggested that I pretend harder..`` Baekhyun said, his voice rising.

“Pretend? When the hell…?”

“You know what, I'm leaving. You don't need me.”

“Yeah, run away Baek. That's what you did in the past. Do it again!”

“What did you say?”, Baekhyun looked at her furiously.

Hye Hee left the kitchen and walked to her bedroom, avoiding any confrontation. But Baekhyun wasn't having it.

“I left? Me? You never even tried to come back. That's how much I meant to you huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right!!! You never meant anything.i was happy to have gotten rid of you... Baekhyun this is my room, get out.”

“No.”

She exhaled slowly and began pushing him. Baekhyun didn't budge.

“I’m not leaving. Your place is my place.”

“Why are you doing this?!!” she exploded, even though Baekhyun was smiling.

It was like they were back in school again. He reached out for her hand, his eyes full of concern when he knew his best friend was hiding something really bad, “What’s wrong? Will you tell me now that you’re done yelling?”

Baekhyun was taller than her now, something she still wasn't used to yet. Her shoulders relaxed and she fought the urge to hug him. He was there for her, but he was someone else’s. The thought only made her want to cry but she tried with all her might not to.

“I miss you…”, she barely managed to say, her voice cracking.

Within an instant, his arms wrapped around her, his palm supporting her head, as he rested it against his chest.

“ I do too. Why do you think I'm here? You may be strong enough to avoid seeing me, but you know I'm not.”

He made her tea later, while both chatted about a job possibility in his company.

“Won't that be troublesome?”, She questioned.

“No… not really…” he trailed off, “at least better than someone we don't know. Teacher Sooman is more scared of sasaengs in the disguise of staff than anything else.”

“That's a good point.”

“Anyways, you have my recommendation. So there's a big chance you'll grab the job plus, your resume is a bonus.”, He stated, proud.

“It’s almost past 9 pm, don't you have to go home?”

“Well, I should… but Taeyeon and Sarang both are not home. So …. I'm free for dinner with you…”

“I didn't say I wanted to have dinner with you though,'' Hye hee responded cheekily.

Hye hee offered to make dinner this time, with Baekhyun as her assistant. They were discussing the amount of milk to add in their pasta sauce when he received a call. His expressions gave grim instantly, and he walked out to the balcony. Hye hee didn't want to trespass but she found herself a little too alert, trying to catch some words.

“..... really?... okay… yeah, you know… with the guys…. Don't wait up. Hmm.. okay.”

Hye hee wondered who it was on the other side. Taeyeon maybe? Baekhyun hung up and leaned against the wall for a few minutes before he left a deep sigh.

Hye Hee quickly made her way back to the kitchen and innocently asked, “Who was that?”

“Taeyeon.”

Bingo.

“Oh? I thought you said she was not gonna be back till a few days?”

“Yeah, she decided to come back sooner I suppose. Anyway, let's have dinner and I’ll have to leave..”

“Yeah, sure.”

His one sentence had summarised their position in each other's lives. No matter how much they wished to spend time with each other, no matter how much they meant, Baekhyun was somebody's husband and his priority was never going to be Hye Hee.

They quietly finished dinner and Baekhyun offered to wash the dishes with her, but by this point, Hye Hee didn't want to keep him away from his real family any longer.

After a few days, while Hye hee was shopping for some groceries, Baekhyun called her.

“Hello?”, She took his call, while also trying to put the pack of perilla leaves in her cart.

“Hye hee, do you have time tomorrow?”, his voice sounded urgent.

“Umm. For what??”

“The opening for staff at SM I told you about? I heard a few staff members discuss that it was the last day. What say? You want me to put you in?”

Hye Hee had a hard time saying yes, but a girl's gotta eat right?

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll come tomorrow for the interview.”

“Great! Alright, I'll text you the time okay? Okay, gotta go now, bye babe.” He hung up, excited like a puppy.

A faint smile played on Hye Hee's lips.

"What?!", Jane exclaimed over the phone, making Hye Hee move her phone away from her ear. She had called her on the way to her interview the next day.

Reposing herself, Hye Hee continued, "So as I was saying, I have no confirmation about the job! can you calm down?"

"No! No! Okay, do this, once you get in, can you get a spot for me too?"

"Okay, we're going in circles! Look, I'll call you after my interview, my stop is here."

Hye Hee got off in a hurry, only 10 minutes before her expected time.

She found the SM building with ease, no one could miss the tall building with a swarm of fans standing out in the hope of seeing their favorite celebrities. Hye Hee was guided to the staff entrance, on showing her interview mail on her phone.

The office was a beauty. The interiors were largely based on pastel shades and the minimal decoration gave it a very chic appearance.

I could be working here... It's so pretty...

Snapping out of her daydream, a staff scurried over to her, leading her to the exceptionally large waiting area. She and 20 others sat nervously, waiting their turn through the huge glass doors.

After which seemed like an eternity, Hye Hee was finally called in. Taking a deep breath in, she opened the door to an exceptionally large room. Her legs wobbled a little as she took small but decent steps towards the large desk that had some of their artists and also Baekhyun’s manager. Just like her, he seemed taken aback by her presence but quickly reposed himself. Hye hee took the seat in front of the panel after she greeted them all.

She quickly recognized the handsome Yunho at the left of the table and couldn't help being starstruck by his beauty.

“So, Song Hye Hee…”, boomed one of the member’s voices and also snapped her back to reality.

“You’ve quite an impressive resume and also an experience. I hope you know that the current job openings do not call for such expertise. Though we could use you for the international language department occasionally…”, he said, glancing at the other stern panelists with doubt.

“Oh yes, I know that the job doesn't entail or call for my previous work experience. I was looking to enhance my resume when I applied for this job..”

“Have you had any managerial responsibilities at the last post?”, suddenly enquired Yunho, looking straight into her eyes that could make even the non-guilty shiver.

Swinging between forming her sentences to answer and not being able to directly meet eyes with Yunho, “ Yes, I was head of the entertainment reporters team for a year…”

“Well… that’s not the kind of skills we’re looking for…”, mumbled the man on the far left, shuffling through the papers in front of him.

“Yes, sir. I have never said that I can't learn the work. My reporting job wasn't exactly my forte. But I learned the skills required for the job quickly after my supervisor helped me. I am more than sure that the responsibilities you bestow upon me will be dealt with to the end and with the utmost professionalism.” hye hee insisted.

Hye hee’s demeanor vibrated through the room as the panelists thought over what she said. It was rare even for them to have an interviewee be that direct and to the point. The employees at the company were especially strict with their new recruitments due to past such incidents when they had toxic fans pose as recruits.

Yunho seemed to be quietly talking to Baekhyun’s manager, occasionally glancing at her direction. Hye Hee couldn't be sure if it was accidental with the questions being showered on her from either end.

Boarding the bus closest to the company after filling a few more details, she headed to meet Jane for lunch at the closest ramen restaurant. Once again, thoughts clouded her mind and she found herself weighing the consequences if somehow they dug out her history with Baekhyun. Soon her phone lit up from a number she didn't recognize. She quickly dived to pick it up, expecting the company.

“Hello?”

“Song Hye Hee-ssi?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m Jung Mu, Baekhyun’s manager. I was wondering if we could meet later today? I have some things to discuss with you.”

Hye Hee’s heart raced from the moment she heard him say his name. Baekhyun had mentioned his manager hyung's a million times before and continues to do so. Jung Mu had been a very quiet encouragement for him since the day he was assigned to manage EXO. he had helped him from many sticky situations and quite so even when he was out on dates with her.

“Umm sure. There’s this tiny cafe on the 17th..”, she told him but was only cut short.

“Yes, I’m aware of it.”, Jung Mu quickly responded. “I’ve dropped him close to the cafe a million times.”

Hye hee an irritation in his voice that was hard to brush off.

It reminded her of the rare occasions when baekhyun would get mad at her for nothing in particular. The sour memories clouded her, cueing the tears instantly. As she hung up, she contemplated if her working at SM would be the right choice after all. She was denying to herself that this step was taken to stay close to baekhyun and be able to see him every day, lying to herself that it was a big field break into the entertainment agency.

But, the truth was, this would only further the distance more. Materialize it. The celebrity, married to an equally popular singer, and she, a struggling writer. Nothing but a layman.

She hurried over to Minseok’s cafe soon, informing him about everything that had happened. He, being the good friend that he was, agreed in no time, however, did think that working at SM could cause trouble. Not just for her, but baekhyun as well.

“Why do I need to close the cafe for a staff?”

“Fans stalk the manager too, Oppa. I’m sorry. But this is the only safe space I know of.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head in disbelief. He soon handed her the pomegranate tea, her favorite for times when stressed. Minseok was usually very mindful of the people around him. The kind gesture made hye hee smile, he smiled at her and softly tapping her shoulder giving her courage to face what lay ahead.

She watched him walk into the low lit cafe soon, accompanied by someone she hadn't anticipated. The two dark figures approached her as they spotted the only person seated.

“Song Hye Hee?”, asked Jung Mu extending his hand towards her. But Hye Hee’s eyes only followed the other tall man behind him.

Suho.

She couldn't think of him as an old friend at that moment. His expression was too grave to be addressed as the man who would smile so gently at her whenever they met.

When hye hee didn't respond at his words, Jung Mu just drew the chair opposite to her. Suho slid into the chair next to him, without meeting eyes with her the whole time. Hye hee silently tried to read into the situation, partially terrified. Minseok appeared minutes later to ask if anyone needed anything. Suho took one glance at him and said, “Lemonade, no sugar.”

“Can we trust him?”, Jung Mu whispered to hye hee after he left, briefly meeting eyes with hye hee, concerned.

“Minseok is a very close trusted friend of mine. You’re safe here.”

Minseok quickly hurried over with the drinks and left them to talk alone, shutting the small staff door. The room where she had met Baekhyun after all those years.

Sipping from his drink, after which his face scrunched in sourness, he quickly reposed himself.

“Hye Hee why were you at the agency today?”, his clear voice boomed in quiet space.

“Baekhyun said I could apply…”

He smirked with disbelief as she spoke, turning to face Hye hee, his eyes pierced into hers.

“Are you kidding me, Hye hee? After all, this while, don't you know? If someone ever finds out about the two of you, it won't just destroy him and you. It’ll take all of us down.”

He paused for a minute before whipping out his phone, showing her a twitter update.

Hye Hee picked up the phone bewildered.

“He’s already been spotted.”, Suho hissed. “You are VERY lucky that even though they are suspicious, the angle makes it hard to be sure. Isn't this your apartment, Hye Hee? Baekhyun refuses to handle this maturely, but Hye Hee, you? I expected better out of you. I cannot allow this. I’m sorry. I need you to minimize your contact with Baekhyun, and eventually, fade him out.”

He was right. What was she thinking? She was low key yearning for Baekhyun, expecting miracles where he would abandon his family for her. He wouldn't ever. Everything that he had built over the years was at stake and so was the entire group.

“Fine.”, she whispered, a voice soft yet unshaken.

“Fine?” wondered Jung mu.

“I will fade away from his life, his memory. But I will need your help.”, said she, with eyes dark and resolute.

#tell me what is love #baekhyun exo #baekhyun scenario #byun baekhyun #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #kpop fanfic #exofanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #chapter 5

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a19yearoldtryinherbest · 4 years

Text

McLovin. Pt3 [Officer Slater]

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2

Prompt: Meeting the parents is hard, specially if you weren't supposed to yet.

Warning: Swearing.

A/N: I just love this soft idiot. Thanks for the request anon!

All the request I haven’y attended to will become part of the 15 Days Of Hader thing that start Monday.

Word count: 2729

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

There was a soft sound outside her bedroom that made Amy wake up.

She opened her eyes and was immediately blinded by the sun coming from her window. But that didn't make any sense, her bed never got sunlight on the morning, and it was definitely early morning. Then she remembered, she wasn't in her college bedroom, she was at her old bedroom. Then she panicked a little because it was morning, she was at her parent's house, she had to help her brother because it was moving day and Slater was still asleep next to her.

She shook his arm slightly, hearing her brother curse out his friends about dropping one of his boxes — Honey. Wake up. — somehow he didn't, so she shook him a bit harder — Slater! — she exclaimed, still maintaining a low voice.

He woke up at that moment, reacting as if he had received a small amount of electricity, almost falling out of bed. He looked at Amy confused as she tried to contain her laughter. He laughed a little as she composed herself and started making him stand up — Common, dork, — she laughed out almost kicking him out of the bed — you've got to go before-

Amy was cut off by her mother opening up the door — Sweetie it's eleven AM and you promised your- — Margaret stopped herself once she looked inside the bedroom. Her eyes darted between the guy in his white boxer -who she had met only once, on similar situation- and her daughter. Maggie, ever so graceful, chuckled a bit and grabbed the handle again — Oh, I'm sorry. I'll let you two get decent. Just come down and help your brother get his thing in the car. — and before any of them could say or think something Maggie had closed the door and left them there to feel embarrassed for a few second before Slater started laughing.

— That was so not funny. — Amy muttered trying not to laugh, flustered and completely embarrassed, covering her face with her hands.

He sat besides her and kissed her shoulder, still smiling — It kind of was. — he said, letting out a small chuckle before she slapped his arm playfully, laughing a little — C'mon, let's get dressed and help McLovin.

They got dressed and went down stairs, they stopped at the kitchen entrance, seeing Maggie scold her husband — I don't care, David. — Amy's father looked beyond annoyed, like a little kid who wasn't getting what he wanted — Promise me you'll behave. — David, reluctantly nodded before looking away and seeing his daughter and her boyfriend, standing perfectly still. Maggie saw the face her husband was making and turned around, she froze for a second and then smiled and said — Oh, I'm sorry you had to see that. — Amy nodded knowingly to herself, understanding what her mother was doing — Any of you want lemonade? I'm about to make some.

Amy looked at Slater and saw him looking so confused. She looked back at her mother and nodded — Sure, we'll take two. — her mother smiled and turned to the kitchen table — We'll go ahead and help the nerds. — Amy grabbed Slater's hand to guide him to the living room.

He was still looking dazed when they got there. He looked towards the kitchen and then at her girlfriend — Did she not realize we heard?

Amy smiled at him and shook her head slightly — No. She knew, she does that. One time, when I was like, twelve, I walked in on them having sex and then she acted like nothing had happened. — Slater laughed shortly and gave her a childish smile that she returned, rolling her eyes and shaking her head — We just got to play along.

— Play along? — he asked, incredulous. She looked at him confused, as he gestured towards the kitchen — They just were talking about how much your dad hates me.

Amy looked at him and smiled sweetly with a bit of sympathy, tilting her head a little to the right — He doesn't hate you. — she said and he gave her a look that somehow was half "are you kidding me" and half "it's so sweet of you to try" — I don't think he does. — she hesitated but immediately shook her head getting rid of the train of thought that was about to leave the station — It doesn't matter if he does. I don't hate you. — she teased a bit at the end but he didn't catched it, he was a bit too distracted for that

— I mean, it matters if we want him to give you away at our wedding. — he thought out loud without really wanting to. When he realized what he had said he snapped to see Amy's reaction. She was looking at him with a bit of surprised and a lot of love He was endearing. He had always been endearing to her. She hadn't admit it to herself yet but she was in love with him, and she fell further in love every day. She fell by the way he would look at her as if she was the only thing in the world, the sweet kisses he would leave on her shoulder before falling asleep, the mess he would leave after trying to make breakfast and how supportive and attentive he would be when she was studying. She smiled sweetly, making his cheek fluster bright red in embarrassment — I- — he sighted softly and relaxed his shoulders — I just want him to like me.

Amy's smile morphed to a tender one, like if she had seen a puppy run and fall before standing up and running again. She held Slater's left cheek, making him look at her with the sad and pleading look he was wearing — He's gonna love you. — she promised, leaning closer to him and grabbing his other cheek — What's not to love? — Slater couldn't help but to smile, his heart filling with the warmest feeling he had felt. She leaned in for a soft and quick kiss, just to reassure him she meant it. Quickly after it was over he leaned in for a softer and longer kiss, just for the sake of it, just because he wanted to and could.

They were quickly interrupted by Seth saying — I can't believe we were afraid of this fucking pussy. — Slater and Amy turned to see Seth, Evan and McLovin. She gave them a questioning look, wondering when and why were they afraid of her boyfriend.

— Who's the one who should be putting his pussy on the ground. — joked Evan. Amy looked back at her boyfriend as he gave them a stern look that made them all stay quiet and still.

— Go. — he ordered and they did as they were told, almost scrambling towards the exit.

Amy chuckled a little, impressed and confused — What was that about? — she asked.

He looked at her, the stern parental look he gave the teenagers already gone — I almost arrested them the night we met. — he explained before smiling at the memory — They were scared shitless.

Amy laughed at the thought and dropped the topic to get both of them outside to help with the boxes. It wasn't long before everything was in Maggie's minivan and ready to go. When they were finished David stepped outside and said — Maggie made lasagna if any of you want to stay for lunch. — somehow he had made it sound harsh. The teenagers took upon the offer in a heartbeat, it took the other two a silent debate that Amy won to take the offer.

It was silent, very silent at least for the couples, Evan, Seth and Fogell kept talking about god knows what. They didn't sense the tension shared between the two men, or maybe they didn't care. Slater really wanted to realise the tension but every time he talked he was received with a calculating and cold look or a opposing commentaries, both from David. It was nerve wrecking. Amy and Maggie tried to keep the conversation going but it would hit a dead end in seconds. Amy kept her hand on her boyfriend's as a show of support and encouragement and Maggie kept throwing stern looks to David as an order to be nicer. Still David kept doing what he wanted, knowing he was going to get scold later.

Maggie, tired of the silence and the mistreating of the poor guy brought her son and his friends into the conversation — Fogell, honey, — she said, McLovin complaining about the name and muttering that she shouldn't call him that — is your dorm room near your sister's? — she asked. The two sibling shared a look, McLovin's was mostly asking “what's going on” while Amy's was pleading him to follow along, so he did.

— I don't think so. — he rambled, unsure — I'm near the science building. — he repaired, looking at her sister for some input.

— Yeah, no. That's on the other side of campus. — Amy clarified and the table fell silent again. Amy, after awkwardly playing with the fork and food on her plate, said — I heard their nicer. The one your staying.

— Are yours not nice? — interrupted their mother.

— No, I- — she looked at her mother, a bit caught off guard — I guess they're nice, — and without thinking much of it looked at her boyfriend and said — right?

— Yeah, — he said without thinking much of it either — big bedrooms.

On the other hand Amy's father thought of it, looking at the calmed manner they were saying it as some sort of betrayal — You've been to her bedroom? — he dared to ask put it didn't sound like a question. He said it as if he knew it for a fact, with false peace on his voice and real anger in his eyes. Like a mother bear seeing something approach her cub, ready to attack.

And that moment, when they looked at his eyes, they knew they had fucked up — Uhm. — Slater mumbled, feeling the same fear Evan and Seth felt when they first met him. He looked at David's eyes, it was almost the same look he had the first time he had met him. The memory was a bit hazy, he was high, but the fire that was burning behind David's eyes weren't something anyone could forget that easily.

Amy could've sworn she saw a vein grow twice it's size in her father's forehead. He seemed he was about to kick Slater out, probably by force, but Maggie put a stop to his plan — David! Amy is a grown woman, she can have a boy in her bedroom. — she scolded him. Everyone on the table seemed to old their breaths for a reaction from David. Luckily all he did was to let t a heavy breath and a small “ok”

Amy gave her mother a thankful look that her mother replied to with an easy and quick smirk before trying to keep the conversation going — So... how do you kids know Slater? — she said, clearly talking to Evan and Seth, who were playing with their forks as if they were swords before being pulled into the tension of the family.

— What? — asked Evan, still holding this fork in the air.

— Well, Fogell told us about the ride along he went with him and- — she looked at Slater before asking — Michaels was it? — he quickly nodded in response, feeling his stomach flip a little by remembering the story — but he never mentioned you two in it.

— Oh. — mumbled Evan, aware of how deeply terrible the story was for a family dinner like that one. It had all of the bad stuff. A police officer driving under the influence, hitting an underage kid who was caring two gallons of beer he stole from a party, followed by abuse of power from the police officer and the three teenagers running away from the police. Not great — Yeah, the ride along he, uh, he did. — he was looking at his friend for help.

— Yeah, the night before that party we, uh, we got you all out of. — Slater said, trying to give him the story they had made up, hoping he wouldn't fuck up and rat them out.

— Yeah, that- uh Fogell called you. That's how we- uhm- we met him. — he stumbled through the word enough for everyone to note he was nervous — And Michaels.

— Oh, I didn't know that. Did they drop you off at your places? — Maggie asked, before taking the lat bite off her meal. She seemed to know they were lying, which made Evan more nervous, but that wasjust her general way of speaking.

— No, I slept at his place. — Seth said.

Soon enough the meal was over and they were outside, saying goodbyes. Seth said quick and dry goodbyes to both of their friends, saying he had to go fuck her girlfriend but it was obvious he didn't want to get emotional, Evan just said a “see you later” since he was going to be Fogell's roommate in a few hours. The rest went towards the car, almost further dilating the goodbye for no reason at all.

Slater kept close to Amy, hand lingering on her back, and her father hated it. There wasn't anything bad or inappropriate on his touch, it was sweet and caring, but he wasn't a fan of the guy so everything he would do, no matter how pure, sweet or innocent he would frown upon it. Amy knew it but there wasn't much she could do about it. If her dad didn't like him wasn't her problem -even if it kind of was- she wasn't going to stop loving him.

Maggie hugged her daughter and then hugged Slater — It was a pleasure to meet you. — she assured, letting him go from the hug — I hope to see you around. — on the corner of her eye, Amy and Slater saw her father make a face to those words. Luckily her mother hadn't seen it or she would've said something.

Maggie stepped back and looked at her husband, as if to pressure him to do something. That something being stretching his hand for Slater to take, which he did. And David squeezed his hand a bit too hard — Nice to meet you. — he said, he wasn't even slightly convincing.

They both tore apart from the handshake. And there was a quick beat of silence before Maggie said another goodbye and got in the driver's seat, prompting David to get in the car as well. Fogell opened the car door but his sister stopped him from getting in it by locking him and a half hug before messing up his hair — See you on campus, weirdo. — she let go of the hug, leaving McLovin to accommodate his hair and get in the car. Amy grabbed the door and, before closing, jokingly said — Don't embarrass our family out there. — he smiled at her through the window as the car started to leave.

Amy crossed her arms over her chest and watched the car go. As the car got further into the distance Slater hugged her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder — They grow up so fast. — he teased, making her laugh a little. She grabbed his arms, holding him back, and they stayed a few seconds in the sweet comfort of each other's embrace. She wasn't thinking past his arms and felt as everything was at peace, but not an unsettling, false calm before the storm peace, actual peace, like if everything was right in the world. Slater broke her out of that haze with a quick kiss on her neck — By the way, your dad still hates me.

#superbad #super bad #officer slater #officer slater imagine #officer slater x reader #oficer slater x OFC #bill hader #snl bill hader #bill hader imagines #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #bill hader x OFC #McLovin

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hilllsnholland · 5 years

Text

Karma (2) - Halloween Series

Pairing: Demon!Tom X Angel!Reader

Wc: 3.2k

Warnings: swearing, religious themes, talks of death

Summary: They’re always watching and listening. But are they always checking the mail?

Y/N’s thumbs fiddled back and forth. Her eyes were transfixed in front of her, the only thing comforting her nervous mind was the white quilt on her couch. It had been a rough forty-eight hours. That last mission hit her hard. She was unable to keep her mind straight and had denied every job offer since she returned back to The Place.

How could she go back to work though? Y/N had wondered if the Angels would act the same if this happened to them. She nearly killed an innocent person. The exact opposite of what her job is. Sure, she has to barter with the Demons for lives, but she had never caused death.

Y/N gulped. Her eyes moving to the mirror above the mantel that showed her depressing situation. Although she was an angel, the stress was still decaying her. Strong emotions affected Angels more than common earth-folk, so her body felt stiff and broken. Y/N needed to move on, but she could only think about one thing: Tom.

The Demon who caused all of this. He couldn’t stick to the plan, he had to irritate her and question it all. Then the comment about her wings and how he touched her back. Y/N swatted at the wing slits, cursing herself for it. Angels are supposed to have beautiful wings, large and blinding. Y/N, however, hated hers. Hid them from the world. No one would see them and that was fine. But when Tom made the comment, it floored her. How dare he ask about him! Angels didn’t show their wings on all jobs. Hers were private, a not so hidden secret.

Knock knock

Shivers went down her spine. Y/N was so lost in her dreadful thoughts that she forgot Carlos was coming over. When she returned from her last mission Carlos could tell something was wrong, but she pushed him away. Afraid that he would report her for her thoughts. Her idea of questioning the order. That was the biggest law that didn’t actually exist. Angels could not question anything, and if they did...well they’re never around long enough after to find out.

“Hi,” Y/N squeaks as she cracks the door open.

“Hey,” Carlos peers through the crack. “Are you okay? You invited me over, remember?”

Yes she did, but she needed to make sure he didn’t bring anyone with him. It would be a Carlos thing to do to bring Sloane or another Angel along to cheer her up. But this was not an emotional rescue mission. It was a call to action to mend Y/N’s unraveling brain.

“Yeah. Come in,”

Carlos slipped through the door, shutting it behind him and watching Y/N as she stands in the middle of the room. Y/N smacked her lips as she looked around her living space, it was the same in every home. White or grey furniture with gold detailing. A fireplace that was barely used was the center point of the room. It was copied and pasted into every living space in The Place. ‘It creates unity’ was the excuse they gave her. That was the first red flag for when Y/N arrived here.

The second red flag was the photos on the mantel. Every home was adorned with pictures of the person’s life back on Earth. It was childhood photos of them or pictures of a dog or a possible family member. It seemed like a sick joke to Y/N though, how she couldn’t remember her life at all but she has these pieces hanging right in front of her. She could literally grasp her life before her death, but she couldn’t relive it.

“How’s the agency?” Y/N speaks calmly as she turns around to look at Carlos.

“Crazy as ever. We could really use one of our top Agents right now,” He winks at her playfully which cracks a smile on her stern lips. “So what’s going on?”

“I got my bathroom reorganized,”

“What?”

Y/N bores her stare into his eyes, flattening her expression into seriousness. Carlos knows she’s referring to something, but he doesn’t know what.

“Come look at my bathroom,” Y/N demands in a soft voice.

Something flickers in Carlos’s eyes and she knows that he finally understands. Y/N guides him to the bathroom, pointing at her tub and closing the door once they both enter. This was another secret in the Place. It was obvious they listened. Who they were? No one knows. But they were listening and the only place they couldn’t was the bathroom. Y/N had heard that through the Agency, eavesdropping on higher officials. That was the perk of working for this government like system, she knew the dirt like no other.

“So what do you have to say that’s gonna get us in trouble?” Carlos sighs. He leans against the bathroom counter with furrowed brows.

“I almost killed someone,”

“Oh wow, right into it,” Carlos blinks. “What do you mean you almost killed someone?”

Y/N breathes sharply, trying to remember the events that happened two days prior. Fuck it hurt.

“That last mission, something came over me-- Darkness or something -- and I tried to shoot an innocent woman. The Demon saved her. Then he killed the bank robber. I purposely tried to kill her though. I was thinking about how I wanted to see her...die.”

It’s quiet. They can’t meet each other’s eyes because of the sickening words that poisoned Y/N’s tongue. Carlos ruffles his own hair, exhaling deeply.

“You know that they must know right?” Carlos sighs.

“I assume they know but they haven’t done anything. I haven’t been called in or written up. I think they don’t care, but,” She pauses before the words crawl out.

“What?”

“I want to speak to the Demon boy,”

Carlos stands up fully, taking a hold of her shoulders and pushing her against the wall. There’s intensity behind his eyes as he shakes her around. Y/N is not afraid though. This was the reaction she was expecting.

“Don’t. Say. That.” Carlos warns. “We do not talk to those kinds of people,”

“He saved that woman’s life. He seems good.”

Carlos scoffs, shaking her again.

“We’re talking about a Demon here. They’re made to be evil.” He lets go, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’ve been overworked. It’s all been a hallucination. That’s the only reason why you’re still here and aliv-”

“I’m not crazy Carlos!”

He flies back against the bathroom counter. Y/N is enraged and unable to process the power she’s exerting. Her hands glowed white as she stomped her foot like a child.

“Something is wrong with me and I don’t know what! There’s only one person who knows what happened and I need to talk to him. I’m not insane or evil, I want the answers and I don’t have time to wait for the Creator.”

Carlos freezes in front of her, teeth gritted tight while Y/N tries to catch her angry breath. This was her only friend and support, and she had screamed at him. But how dare he not believe her? It probably wasn’t smart to tell someone who worked so closely with the agency, but who else could she divulge to. Carlos crosses his arms and closes his eyes.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Can you send a letter to the Under?”

Another pause is followed with the break of Carlos’s face into a stupefied smile.

“You’re gonna get me killed,” He sighs. “I’ll send one letter! If I get caught though, I’m ratting you out.”

A twisted laugh left Y/N’s lips. It sounded somewhat strangled through her anger and the sliver of hope coming over her.

“I’m okay with that,” Y/N extends her hand to shake his. “But I really appreciate it. I can only trust you.”

Carlos slowly blinks, closing the handshake with the hardest exhale he could muster. Y/N could tell this was the last thing he wanted to do. The only reason why he was even offering this little chance was because he cared. No one else did or seemed to. Everyone lived in the ignorant bliss that Y/N saw through. She saw the corruption and red flags, and for a second she could tell Carlos did too.

“I hope you didn’t make the wrong decision,” Carlos says flatly.

“I think I should say the same thing to you,”

Tom paced across the break room in a fit of nerves. The only thing giving him an outlet of stress was the fire being created in the palm of his hands. The warm tingling reminded him of something, not sure what. Maybe it was something earthly that he read in books. Tom could never put his finger on these types of feelings, the descriptions were vague but he felt it. It was the most real thing he’d ever felt.

“What’s so important that I needed to rush over here?” A voice exclaimed as they entered the room.

“I’m dying,” Tom responds, the fire immediately going out.

Harrison, one of Tom’s closest friends, stood in the middle of the room with his fists clenched to his sides. His horns were stark black that contrasted with his light blonde hair. He looked nothing like a Demon should be. It was a running joke that the Creator mixed him up with an Angel, now there’s a poor evil Angel running around. This was immediately debunked though, as Harrison had the highest kill rate in the rankings. Which is why Tom needed his help. Only Harrison would know what to do.

“You can’t die. You have to be alive first to die,” Harrison mocks him with a crooked smirk.

“Haz, I feel like I’m dying.” Tom anxiously tangles his fingers together into a begging motion. “I have no idea what I’m doing-”

“Well, you just got a promotion so you must be doing something right,”

This created a gross taste in the back of Tom’s mouth. After that last assignment, he was given a promotion, finally. But it felt so wrong. He finally killed someone and inadvertently created emotional trauma to that bank teller woman. Not a win in Tom’s book, but Kaiser took it as the biggest accomplishment he’d ever seen.

“That was a fluke. I told you I didn’t pull the trigger-”

“I know that. You know that. We all know that, but we’re going to ignore that so we can celebrate that you’re on your way to getting horns.”

Harrison smiles, taking a rough hand and ruffling Tom’s hair. It seems as if he’s feeling for the little mounds though. Tom could feel Harrison slow down over where his horns should be, but there was nothing. Shame fell upon Tom, along with fear and anxiety. What is a Demon without horns? It’s like an Angel without wings.

That was why he was so curious. Tom wanted to see an Angel’s wings so bad, but the last one was insane about them. She was ashamed, like him. Tom remembered feeling the place where the wings should be, the slits were small and almost closed off. It was like she was purposely not using them so they would disappear. This was not the first time he thought about that Angel, Y/N. She was the reason for his invading nightmares and uncontrollable thoughts. It was her, who tried to kill that woman, that was causing all of his problems.

“I, I killed that robber though. I gave him an aneurysm. Do you know why?” Harrison raises an eyebrow to motion him to continue. “I wanted to see him suffer like he made everyone else did. He didn’t deserve the glorious death of being killed by cops. He deserved to die looking into the eyes of someone who survived his wrath. What does that sound like to you?”

Harrison doesn’t shift an emotion. He nods, grabbing Tom’s shoulder and patting it lightly.

“Sounds like you wanted revenge,” Harrison makes complete eye contact with Tom. “Holy revenge like those fucking Angels. What are you trying to tell me, Tom? That you want to be an Angel or something?”

“No! I don’t know why I feel pity or remorse. I want to be like you, but I don’t know. You need to help me,”

Tom squeaked as the door opened. Harrison nearly jumped, turning his back towards Tom to see who was intruding on their conversation. Though his scowl soon turned into a stiff flat expression when he realized it was Kaiser. Tom bit his lip, wondering if his head of the department knew what he had done. Of course, he did, but he hadn’t said anything which was even more suspicious. Kaiser shuffled in, whistling some sort of song with a letter in hand.

“Men,” Kaiser hummed. “Tom, you have a letter here from the big office,”

His stomach churned. Oh no, this was it for him. Tom knew he was going to end up in the pit for sure. Kaiser handed the letter off as if it was nothing. Harrison whipped around nervously as if he knew what the contents were too.

“Do you know what it is?” Tom questioned in the sturdiest voice he had.

“Not sure. The delivery guy said it was from the transfer unit so maybe that.”

Tom was going to throw up. He needed to set his affairs now because he was going to spend the rest of eternity in the void, wishing for death to finish him off. Tom ripped the letter open and fiddled to read the note. It wasn’t what he expected though. It wasn’t typed up on stationary, but handwritten and sloppy. It was a real letter, and it was from that Angel.

Dear Tom,

This the strangest thing I’ve ever done but I need your help. You are the only one who will understand my pain from that day. You are the only one who really knows what happened that day. I’ve been wracking my head for days on why I did what I did, and why you did what you did, but I can’t find my answers. I’m hoping you will be the key to figuring out the truth. You are my last hope, and I know you’re good. I saw that last time. Please write me back at the return address. I’m really counting on you. Thank you.

Regards,

Y/N

Tom had forgotten to breathe, taking a giant inhale as he tried to process the whole letter. Y/N wanted his help? An Angel risked it all to talk to him? Of course he had to reply. It was the right thing to do and all. Tom looked up to see Harrison and Kaiser still staring at him. Harrison was watching with complete horror while Kaiser looked to him in curiosity. He couldn’t tell them what it was so lying was the next best option.

“Apparently there was a mix up with paperwork,” Tom stated and stuffed the note back in the envelope. “Kaiser, can I get a copy of my last assignment sheet? The head office must've lost it.”

“Sure, I’ll send that to you with your next assignment,” Kaiser shrugged and headed back towards the door. “You worried me for a second. I don’t need another man going to the darkness and all,”

Both Tom and Harrison laughed awkwardly at Kaiser’s comment before he slipped away. Tom waited until the door clicked close to let out a sigh of relief. All that worrying for nothing, or at least for now. He still had to compose a somewhat legible letter and figure out how to send it back without being caught.

“So what was it really?” Harrison motioned to the letter.

“Nothing,”

“You know Kaiser knows you’re lying right?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. If he cared he would have said something,” Tom tucked the letter into his coat pocket for later. “And that conversation we had, just forget it okay.”

Harrison quirked an eyebrow up, folding his arms back up to his chest with a stern look. Tom couldn’t tell him about this. He wouldn’t understand. Harrison always fit in and had a way with this job that Tom could never possibly have. This was Tom’s one shot of finding someone who felt the same as him.

“Tom, I want to help you here but you’re not helping yourself,” Harrison tried to take a step closer to his friend but felt the insane heat that radiated off of him. “You just need to turn those feelings off and you can be like the rest of us,”

Like it’s so simple? To just be free of all those emotions that his friends did not have. Tom didn’t choose to feel sympathy. He wanted to be as ruthless as the others. He craved to feel the gratification from ending a life or causing a tragedy. He didn’t feel it though, and Tom always hated himself for that. He wasn’t programmed right, whatever the Creator did it was a mistake. But he was also told that the Creator doesn’t make mistakes. So what now? Live a life that’s a lie? Or suffer for something he can not control?

“I am like the rest of you,” Tom lied with his stomach-churning. “I will cause more destruction than all of you combined. Mark my word,”

Tom’s eyes glowed red and Harrison suddenly was thrown back towards the wall. That was not what Tom was trying to do, but it got his point across. Harrison gripped the carpet, glaring daggers into his best friend. Although he was impressed by the unused power, Harrison hated to be beaten at his own game.

“Challenge accepted,” Harrison smirked while standing to his feet. “Worst person wins,”

Harrison winked which caused the shoulder of Tom’s jacket to light itself on fire. Tom reacted quickly, patting out the flame while Harrison laughed. It always had to be a game with him. He couldn’t take a joke or a bet without it getting serious. Tom watched his friend leave, still chuckling over his childish powers. His hand reached for his pocket to make sure the letter was still there. The parchment felt cold in his hand but it burned a hole in his mind. He needed to do this now.

Tom could not wait until he got home. He searched through the break room trying to find any piece of paper he could write on, finally finding an old stationery set in one of the compartments by the loungers. He snapped a pen into his hand, scrambling quickly what he needed to say. So many things filtered through his mind, so many questions and comments, but he kept it simple.

Dear Y/N

I can’t stop thinking about that day either, mainly because I knew you were just like me. You have been questioning things too. I saw that as soon as I set my eyes on you. The way you were frightened by the fact I didn’t want to barter over lives. It’s something you were not used to, which is the scary thing about what’s going on around us. I may not have the answers you’re looking for, but I can be your person to talk to about this whole mess. We’re the outsiders it seems. And I’m okay with that. Even if we get caught, at least I know we were on the same side. I look forward to talking, and maybe even meeting with you.

Sincerely,

Tom

///

taglist:

@hopeless-starry-kingdom / @1-800-ahh-crap / @spnqueen02 / @heatherhollowayst

#Tom Holland imagines #Tom Holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #demon!tom holland #demon!tom #Tom Holland blurbs #Tom Holland blurb #Tom Holland fic #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland x you

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nicolewrites · 5 years

Text

i built these walls to keep you out

some soft, hurt/comfort, introspective (kind of) fjorester for your soul this fine Monday while I pretend that I’m not overstressed about midterms.

Rating: G+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst Characters: Fjord, Jester Lavorre Words: 3,535

"There’s something to be said about guilt. It eats away at you, clawing at your stomach in the dark of the night and tearing at your mind if you ever dare to smile. Survivor’s guilt, the weight of leadership, the desperate thoughts that say “you should have seen this coming”. It follows him, unassuming and quiet, ready to rear its head anytime there is a moment of peace or quiet.

Fjord knows about guilt.”

AO3

There’s something to be said about guilt. It eats away at you, clawing at your stomach in the dark of the night and tearing at your mind if you ever dare to smile. Survivor’s guilt, the weight of leadership, the desperate thoughts that say “you should have seen this coming”. It follows him, unassuming and quiet, ready to rear its head anytime there is a moment of peace or quiet.

Fjord knows about guilt.

The Tide’s Breath–he should have seen something in Sabian earlier, he should have warned Vandran, he should have known better than to wander to close to the rail, he should have died on that ship with the rest of the crew.

Mollymauk–he shouldn’t have let Jester come patrolling with him and Yasha, they never should have wandered too far from the camp, he should have fought off the attackers rather than be taken, he should have taken the brunt of the torture upon himself, he should have killed Lorenzo himself and saved his friend.

Uk’otoa–he shouldn’t have taken the sword, he should have ignored the Cloven Crystals, he shouldn’t have led them onto the sea, he shouldn’t have let Avantika take them, he shouldn’t have slept with her, he shouldn’t have let her open the seal, he should never have opened one himself, and god, he should have thrown the blade away long before he did.

There are things that keep him awake at night, blindly staring into the top of Caleb’s dome, or keeping vigil in the chamber while his friends slept because he didn’t need to sleep for those 8 hours when he could be protecting them. Melora wanted him to serve and protect and that’s all he wanted was to protect those idiots who surrounded him who he cared so much about.

They make it out of the Twiggy-dubbed Happy Fun Ball, with Yussa, their beaten, battered wizard ally in tow. They have a total of four spells remaining and Fjord has never been this tired in his life, but they are all alive, miraculously.

Beau is limping, her knee twisted in, and her new circlet tangled in her hair, but she is upright. Caduceus is wobbling along with his tall, lumbering gait because he’s very hurt and they didn’t have enough healing to go around (Fjord feels warmth course through his fingertips as he lays his hands on Caduceus’s chest and wills him back to life). Caleb is trying to support Beau, but there’s a darkly vacant look in his eyes and Fjord remembers his panic at the golem’s silence collar. Nott is clutching Jester’s cloak, her eyes wild and her scratches still bleeding. Since her adventure across the pond, Nott had been wary of their journey, but the goblin had taken her share of hits.

And then, Jester. Sweet Jester with bruises forming under her blue skin and wide purple eyes that reflect a guilt Fjord only knows so well because she hadn’t healed. Because she had nothing left to give them and Fjord knew she wanted to give everything for them, but she had nothing left.

Allura sweeps into the room, followed by a halfling woman with full armour and a stern, suspicious look on her face. Allura looks their mismatched group over and the halfling heads straight to Yussa, hands outstretched. A soft white glow emits from her fingers as she splays them on the wizard’s shoulders and Fjord blinks because he knows what that it and the kind of divine power that’s being harnessed.

Allura introduces Kima, the halfling paladin of Bahamut, but Fjord’s ears are still ringing with exhaustion. After a long look over them, Allura dismisses them to get sleep, saying that she’ll deal with Yussa and the sphere while they rest. Most of the Mighty Nein don’t protest, but Fjord finds himself wanting to linger.

They gave Yussa the Happy Fun Ball. They should deal with it, not this sweet wizard from a different continent. They’re the reason that Yussa was sucked inside and this is their problem. Blood pounds through his ears and his vision tunnels and he stumbles into Caleb suddenly.

“Fjord?” Beau says, her brow furrowing.

Her face dips in and out of focus as the ringing in his ears gets louder and for the first time, Fjord realizes how exhausted he is. He hadn't slept at all and they’ve eaten very little and the power of the Wildmother flooding through him has left him completely drained. He tries to respond, to assure them that he’s fine, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth.

Jester moves towards him, her hands reaching up for his shoulders as she steadies him, staring into his face. “Fjord, can you hear me?”

Mutely, he nods because that’s all the strength he can muster. Shame and guilt stab through him. He’s supposed to be better than this–a guardian for these fools–and he stands here looking weak.

Jester steps closer, reaching up to touch his face. Fjord blinks and tries to ground himself by counting the freckles that splash across her nose, but they swirl tauntingly. Her fingers run along his cheekbones and across his forehead and it takes everything he has not to collapse against her. Her brow furrows and her fingertip grazes the skin under his eyes where Fjord can basically feel the signs of his exhaustion.

“He’s exhausted,” Jester says after a moment. She looks sad as she leans away and as soon as she has stepped back he nearly stumbles again.

Quickly, Jester catches his arm and slides her arm around his waist, offering him some of her remaining strength. Allura gives the entire group another appraising look and this time Fjord can feel the eyes of Kima, the Paladin, on him. Her gaze is assessing and sharp, but he knows she’s looking at the Wildmother’s symbol scrawled on his armour.

“Please,” Allura says, her voice gentle, “rest. There will be much work to be done in the morning.”

“Follow me,” Wensworth urges soon after. “I will show you where you can rest for the night. We have many chambers for guests.”

Nott and Caduceus lead the way out of the room, and Beau limps after them, Caleb sticking close to the monk’s side. Jester hesitates, her arm still around Fjord, but Fjord looks back at Kima and Allura and his mind screams at him to stay and clean up his own mess.

Kima finally speaks, levelling Fjord with a heavy glare. “You’re no use to anyone in that state. Sleep, pray to your goddess, and come back when you in better form,” she instructs.

The words are hard, but not uncaring and Fjord recognizes that she has recognized him as a servant to a goddess in a similar way of her own. Guilt knaws at his stomach, but when Jester tugs on him, he follows her and they head out, following the rest of their party.

Wensworth kindly sets them up with three rooms that end up all being connected. As usual, Nott and Caleb immediately head into one and Nott is already curling up on one of the beds as Caleb turns to the rest of them to nod before shutting the door. Beau limps to the nearest bed and sinks onto it, rubbing at her knee and frowning. Caduceus lumbers towards the third room quietly.

Jester hesitates at Fjord’s side, obviously unsure if he still needs her support. He smiles down at her with a smile he hopes is relatively convincing before unwinding her arm from his waist and stepping away. He doesn’t stumble, thankfully, and it is apparently enough to ease Jester’s worries as she takes a step towards Beau, just glancing back towards him briefly.

He heads after Caduceus, letting their sleeping-roommates routine continue. He nods to Jester and Beau before leaving the room one more time. “Sleep well,” he says lowly.

Beau watches him leave with a furrowed brow and Jester worries her lip between her teeth, but they both nod and bid him a good rest as well. Fjord shuts the door behind him and sees that Caduceus is already turned to the wall on one of the beds, his shoulders rising and falling steadily with deep, sleeping breaths.

Fjord sits on the other bed and starts stripping his armour off. He does it slowly and methodically and he’s ashamed to realize that his fingers stumble over the buckles of it in his tired state. He stacks it at the foot of his bed, but leaves Jester’s whip closer to his head so that he could grab it quickly in the case of an emergency.

He lies down against the mattress and finds it surprisingly comfortable and his weary body sinks into unconsciousness almost immediately. Sleep takes him and all he sees is black.

Fjord dreams of a realm where the sky stretches undisturbed from horizon to horizon. The world is flat and covered in about a foot and a half of water over soft, sandy ground. The water shifts in waves, a calming noise, and the air smells like sea salt. Fjord inhales deeply, soaking in the familiar scent. He’s standing in the calf-deep water and his boots are soaked through. His toes must be pruning.

Fjord looks around and sees water and sky stretching blindly in every direction. He steps forward, curiously, and he moves, unimpeded by the water. He starts walking in one direction, blind curiosity leading his movements, but after a couple of steps, his foot hits something in the water.

He leans down to pick it up and pulls out Beau’s staff. The wood is splintered in places and the ribbon tied around it is charred, frayed, and waterlogged. He puts it back down, frowning, and looks around. There’s no sign of Beau, but he does catch sight of something else glinting below the water nearby.

It’s Nott’s flask: the unending one that she never lets out of her sight. Fjord doesn’t even need to lift it to fully see what it is and his heart starts to pick up its pace. Caduceus’s shield is half-buried by sand just a pace away and next to it is Caleb’s now-ruined spellbook. The Magician’s Judge is burrowed into the sand just beyond that and then Fjord sees Molly’s coat drifting along in the waves.

Fjord turns in a full circle, looking for his friends. Their things–some of their most prized things, are here–but they’re not. The sun shines brightly overhead and the water laps against his legs gently, therapeutically. He exhales slowly and tries to quash his panic.

He looks down at the waves and sees that the water isn’t the same clear liquid it had been before. There are wisps of red dancing through it, spreading and growing, dying this whole ocean the crimson colour of blood. Fjord turns and sees shapes nearby just below the water and he breaks into a sprint towards them.

Beau, and Caleb, and Nott, and Caduceus, and Molly, and Yasha, and–when he sees her, he swears his heart stops. Jester lies under the water, her violet eyes staring blankly upward, her stomach slashed and filling the water around her with blood. Fjord falls to his knees and pulls Jester against his chest.

There’s no pulse and her skin is freezing cold.

He failed them. They’re all gone and there’s nothing he can do. He’s worthless and he should have protected them.

Panic and pain swirl through Fjord’s mind and he falls to his knees, still cradling Jester’s still form. His breathing increases and he feels his eyes grow wet and he shuts them, trying to control his breathing.

Why was he alive when all his friends were gone?

He wakes up suddenly, his eyes shooting open so quickly that the entire room is black for a long moment before his darkvision adjusts and he can see the domed ceiling of the room in Yussa’s tower. His heart is still racing and his eyes are wet and his jaw hurts from where he had clenched it. His entire body is tense and it takes a long moment for him to let some of the tension out of his shoulders.

He sits up, looking around. Across the room on the other small cot, Caduceus’s chest rises and falls deeply with his breaths. Fjord swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up, exhaling slowly. The exhaustion that had crippled him earlier is gone, but his head is still a little foggy and tired.

The air of the room is suddenly stifling and he feels an intense need for fresh air. Wensworth had pointed out a small balcony that they were free to use if they desired when he had escorted them to their chambers and Fjord desperately wants to breath salty, Menagerie Coast air. He stands from the bed, sliding his boots and a thin shirt on, and heads for the door.

Quietly, he cracks the door to Jester and Beau’s room and slips in. He can see both of his friends lying in their beds, breathing, so he heads for the main door to their chambers. He has just placed his hand on the doorknob when he hears a voice call his name.

“Fjord? What are you doing?” Jester asks, her voice soft with sleep and confusion.

He turns around and can see her half-sitting in bed as she stares at him in confusion. Fjord waves gently and gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “It’s ok, Jessie, I’m just going to get some air.”

She doesn’t reply but doesn’t move either, so Fjord opens the door and steps into the hallway, assuming that he has appeased her curiosity. The hallway is dimly lit by torchlight and Fjord locates the door to the referenced balcony quite easily. He cracks it open and slips onto the small balcony.

Due to the nature of Yussa’s tower, as he steps out and looks down, the balcony appears to be about 100 feet off the ground, but he knows that if you looked up from the ground, there would appear to be no balcony at all.

The air is stinging and cold and tastes like salt. Fjord splays his fingers along the stone railing of the balcony and exhales heavily. His dream was still at the front of his mind making him prickle with guilt and fear and shame. It’s not the terror that came from Uk’otoa’s ominous dreams, but it hurts just the same. He leans forward on his elbows, letting his head fall into his hands as he breathes.

“Fjord?”

He snaps his head up and turns to the entrance back into the tower. Jester is standing there in her underdress and boots, staring at him with a concerned look on her face.

“Jester,” he breathes.

She walks up to him and studies his face intently. “You need to rest,” she says firmly.

Fjord sighs. “Can’t sleep,” he admits.

Jester frowns. “It’s not Uk’otoa again is it?”

Fjord shakes his head quickly. “Just other stuff.” He reaches his hand up to scratch awkwardly at his face without thinking and Jester grabs his wrist to stop him. He realizes with a start that he had been aiming for his tusks and she’d stopped him.

She gives him a timid smile. “Your teeth look good,” she compliments.

Fjord lets out a low laugh and slides his wrist through her grip until they’re holding hands. “Thanks,” he replies.

Jester bites her lip and squeezes his hand. “Fjord, if something was bothering you, you would tell me right?”

He drops his gaze. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m not doing enough. It’s like all this trouble is my fault and I’m not doing enough to control the situation and to protect innocent people like Kiri or Yussa or to protect you all.”

Jester exhales, reaching for his other hand. “Fjord, no, we’re all doing the absolute best we can right now. And besides, we like supporting you too.”

He nods. “I know, I know, but don’t you feel like we could be doing more to stop the war than we are?”

For the first time, Fjord sees shame and grief in Jester’s eyes and his heart breaks a little. Without even thinking, he reels her into a tight hug and Jester’s hands curl into his shirt. He holds her for a long moment, breathing slowly.

“I’m so afraid, Fjord,” she admits. “The Traveler is always with me, but sometimes I wonder if I’m doing enough for him. And Momma, she misses me so much and I’m running around getting involved with a war.”

Fjord rests his head atop hers, between her horns and closes his eyes. “I keep feeling like I’m failing everyone and that I’m going to wake up one day and the Wildmother will have decided that I’m not good enough for her and that I’ll be powerless again,” he says quietly.

Jester pulls back just enough so that she can look into his face. “You and me have known each other the longest. But, this group, we’re a good group and we’re going to figure this out. We’re going to go to TravelerCon and we’re going to get Yasha back and we’re going to sort out this crazy Cerberus Assembly and we’re going to help the Cobalt Soul and we’re going to save Caduceus’s forest.” She lists the goals in one go and is completely out of breath by the time she finishes talking.

Fjord cracks a small smile. “You have so much faith in us, Jester.”

She smiles weakly. “I love you guys.”

Fjord can see the trepidation in her eyes and the hollow pain that echoes that which he feels as well. He hugs her again and just holds her for a moment. “Jessie, you’re so strong and good to all of us, but you know that we’re here for you too, don’t you? If there’s ever anything you want to talk about like the Traveler or your mom or even your feelings, we’re here for you.” He pauses, gathering his courage further. “I’m here for you.”

Jester curls her arms around him and hugs him back. “You don’t have to carry the weight of everything with you,” she whispers into his chest.

Admiration and adoration well in his chest for the girl in front of him. He kisses the top of her head so lightly he’s not even sure she’ll be able to feel it. “We’re a family, right? A crazy, out of control, mismatched family. How about this instead: I’ll carry what I can and you carry what you can, and we’ll share the rest?”

She squeezes him and leans back, but this time she doesn’t step out of his personal space. Her eyes are watery, but she’s smiling softly again. “I miss Molly,” she admits.

“Me too.”

“I don’t understand why the Gentlemen doesn’t want to be with my Momma.”

Fjord doesn’t have an answer for that, but Jester shakes her head, assuring him that it’s alright.

“I don’t know what to do now that Vandren’s alive,” he admits instead. “Should I be happy? Or should I be angry he never came looking for me?”

Jester sighs and rests her head against his chest again. “I’m scared I’m going to have to use Revivify sometime soon again. I’m scared I’m going to fail.”

“You won’t,” he says before he can even think the reply through. He swallows as Jester’s anxious eyes tilt to meet his gaze. “You won’t because we’ll be with you and the Traveler will be with you too.”

She relaxes a little. He keeps his arms around her and tightens them briefly as a gust of wind blows by, reminding them both that they’re not wearing their cloaks or armour. Fjord looks up, studying the starry sky that’s dotted with clouds.

“Jester, whatever happens next, I trust you. I’ll be with you till the end of the line and I’d follow you all the way down.”

She headbutts the bottom of his chin with the very top of her head. “I’m with you too. But no more lies, okay?”

“Only if you promise to talk to me, or to Beau, or to Nott, or any of us too. I know you’re carrying weights too, Jess.”

She sighs slowly. “A burden shared, right?”

He hums his response and Jester giggles, her hand pressing against the centre of his chest after a moment.

“I felt that,” she says softly.

Fjord smiles and he feels the gentle poke of his still growing tusks as he does. Jester reaches up to poke at them, smiling more openly now. He plucks her hand away from his face and just cradles it for a moment. Her cheeks flush a deep blue-purple shade and she looks away from his face towards the sky.

“We’re okay, right?” she asks.

“We’re getting there,” he replies.

The guilt that weighs on him lifts a little and when he breathes in, it’s the best air he’s ever breathed and he feels the most comforted and at ease he’s felt since the Tide’s Breath exploded.

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