#Sorry ma’am he really likes …….. eyeballs…. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #tw: smut #tw: dubious consent #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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slytherinwh0re · 4 years

Text

I’m yours

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), this is kinda fluffy, swearing (I literally always cuss, it’s just a given at this point lol)

Summary: Where you go to the Malfoy’s for a party and you and Draco’s relationship finally takes the turn you both wanted.

Masterlist

Requested by anon, lmk if you like it (:

“You look beautiful (y/n), Draco’s inside waiting for you.” Narcissa says as she pulls away from the quick hug, greeting your parents in the same friendly fashion.

You walk through the large manor quickly, trying to find the familiar head of platinum hair that belonged to your best friend. However your search kept getting interrupted, many of your parents friends stopping you for boring conversations and of course trying to marry you off to one of their sons, because nothing was more important than pure blood babies in their eyes. You were used to it though, that’s basically the point of having these extravagant parties, but you’d be damned if you’d be forced into a loveless marriage for the sake of blood purity.

“You’ll adore him darling, he’s quite the handsome boy.” Says the woman whose name you didn’t bother learning as she rambled on about her son, you merely nodded as you let your eyes rake over the sea of people, finally locking eyes with the boy you’ve been looking for. Draco had already been looking at you and the thought made you smile.

“Sorry ma’am I actually have something important to attend to right now.” You say, already walking away from the frowning lady. His eyes trail your figure and you mentally pat yourself on the back for picking out this dress, the black satin material fits you like a second layer of skin, the high slit showed off a long tan leg, and the off the shoulder sleeves displayed your collar bones nicely. You looked good and you knew it.

“Where have you been?” You question once you reach him, giving the blonde a quick kiss on the cheek like you usually do when you see him.

“Sorry love, I got stuck talking to Mrs. Parkinson, you know how she is.” Draco says pulling you in for a hug. “You look fucking amazing in that dress.” He whispers in your ear making you shiver. The effect he had on you was something you couldn’t get used to no matter how much time you spent with him.

“Thank you.” You blush. “You don’t look too bad yourself Draco.” He’s wearing one of his signature fitted all black suits that made you weak in the knees.

You’ve been best friends since you were children but as you grew older there was no denying that the relationship was changing. Both of you now matured knew that whatever this was it was a lot more than just friendship. Why you hadn’t acted on it yet, neither of you knew. Maybe it was because of the impending war or maybe just the fear of losing one another but neither of you could hide the obvious feelings you stored for each other.

“Come on, we’ll both need a drink to get through the rest of the night.” He led the way to the table full of various types of alcohol, pouring you each a shot of fire whiskey, your favorite.

“Another for good luck?” You ask right after throwing back the first one.

“You read my mind (y/l/n).” He winks while handing you your second shot. The effects of the alcohol and the handsome boy in front of you immediately make you feel more relaxed.

“Let’s dance!” You exclaim as you watch others gather in the center of the room with a partner, before he could even respond you’d already grabbed his hand and led him towards the dancing people.

You knew he didn’t really like dancing but he followed you without complaint because as he had told you once before, he’d rather scoop out his own eyeballs than to watch some foul git put their hands on you, you take full advantage of that information any chance you get. This was one of those situations, because damn did you love dancing, especially with Draco.

You grab his hands, swaying both of you to the fast rythm of the music. The smile on his face as he spins you around the other dancers makes your heart soar with so much affection for the blonde that you can’t stop the giggles from spilling out your mouth.

“You’ll be the death of me (y/n) (y/l/n).” He says as you stumble into his chest, dizzy from all the spinning.

When the tempo of the music changes into something slower, Draco grabs the small of your back and pulls you into him so you’re chest is pressed to his. You wrap your arms around his neck and he holds your waist as you sway to the music, the atmosphere changing drastically, neither of you paying attention to anything around you.

“Take me upstairs Draco.” You whisper in his ear. You feel him go rigid as he pulls back to look at you, both knowing this is point of no return. Draco’s eyes search yours for any trace of hesitation, once he finds none he’s taking your hand and leading you through the crowd of people towards the staircase.

You could hear the blood pumping through your veins as you stepped into his familiar bedroom. He walks you over to the foot of his bed and grabs your chin, tilting it up to look at you and then his lips are on yours. Every emotion you feel for him is poured into the kiss, his lips caressing yours so gently it almost doesn’t seem real.

“Do you want this (y/n)?” He questions pulling away from the sweet kiss.

“I’m yours Draco.” Is all you have to say before he’s kissing you again, this time more urgently. He pulls away and turns you around so your back is to his chest and you face the mirror in front of his bed.

He grabs your hair and pushes it to the side as he litters kisses on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He had one hand flat on your stomach pushing you against him and the other running down the side of your body over the tight dress, your head was thrown back, loving the way his hands feel on you.

He pulls back, looking at you through the mirror, moving the hand on your stomach to the zipper on the back of your dress. “Go ahead Draco.” You encourage as he looks at you for approval. He kisses the back of your neck before slowly unzipping the fabric, watching as the satin material falls silently at your feet, leaving your chest bare for him to see, the only thing covering you is the lacy underwear on your hips as you step out the dress.

“So beautiful.” He whispers as he moves both hands to massage your breasts, never looking away from your body in the mirror, making small moans leave your mouth. He has on far too much clothes so you turn to face him, pulling off his suit jacket and then his tie, tossing them carelessly, and then unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly, leaving a kiss on his chest every time more of his pale skin is revealed to you.

The handsome boy watches your every move as you look up at him while you undo his belt and trousers. Once his pants fall to the ground he kicks them off along with his shoes, bringing you back to him for a needy kiss, your naked chests pressed together.

“Jump.” You do as you’re told, wrapping your legs around his waist, his hands on your ass as he carries you towards the big bed and lays you down on the edge. His lips kiss down your body towards your soaked panties, kneeling in front of you and pulling away to unclasp the heels on your feet.

Draco hooks his finger around your underwear and you lift your hips so he can slide them off, the cold air on your pussy makes you shiver. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch what he’s about to do to you, a smirk rests on his lips seeing the state you’re in.

“You’re already dripping love.” He teases as he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“Please just touch me already Draco.” You beg, making him dive right in. His tongue flat against your soaked center, devouring you in every sense of the word. Your hands find his hair tugging on it making him moan against you which in turn makes you scream out his name.

His lips wrap around your clit making your hips buck and you can practically feel the smirk on his lips as you throw your head back, filthy moans spilling from your mouth. Your grip on his hair tightening as he pushes a long finger into your entrance, curling it with every thrust.

“Draco.” You breathe out, not able to form any coherent thoughts as he completely ravishes you. Desperate whines leave your lips as you feel yourself about to release and that’s when he pulls away from you completely.

“When you cum, it’s gonna be around my dick.” He states as he tear off his boxers, watching you shuffle to the center of his bed. His dick slaps him on the stomach and you rub your legs together seeing the precum already leaking out his tip.

“Show me what I’ve been missing out on.” You say, making him smile as he moves to kneel in front of you on the bed, your legs once again wrap around his waist and his dick presses against your slick folds.

He guides himself to your entrance and with a final nod of approval he’s pushing into you. Both moaning as he moves his hips at a steady pace, your soaked walls clenching around him tightly.

Draco’s hands move up the sides of your body, making sure not an inch of skin goes untouched. He lower himself so he can kiss along your neck, sucking on spots that make you moan his name, surely leaving marks that will remind you of this night for the next few days.

Your nails scratch down his back making him groan as he thrusts into you faster. Suddenly he’s pulling out of you and flipping you over so your laying on your stomach. He lifts you hips so you’re on your knees and you arch your back, pushing yourself back on to him desperately.

“You take me so well my love, I always knew you would.” He says as he slams into you repeatedly, completely wrecking your body in the best way possible.

“Oh Draco.” The moans that leave your mouth are relentless once he hits that spot that makes your toes curl and your head feel fuzzy from the pleasure you’re receiving. When his hand wraps around your throat and pulls you up so your back is against his chest you know it was the beginning to the end.

“Who do you belong to (y/n)?” He asks while continuously driving into you.

“I’m yours Draco, I’m all yours.” You cry out as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles into you, making your head falls back onto his shoulder as his fingers tightens around your neck.

“Cum for me love.” Is all he says as you finally hit your high. Your walls clench around him and your vision goes white, the waves of pleasure wash over your body as you scream his name. Raspy moans fall from his lips as his release takes over his body, leaving both of you completely spent.

You fall back onto the bed and he lays next you so you’re facing each other. His hand caressing your cheek, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“Every man down there had their eyes on you all night.” He claims.

“I only have eyes for one man and if he keeps fucking me like that I’ll have to marry him.” You tease with a smile on your face, making him laugh.

“I’ve known I would marry you since we were 15 (y/n), I’ve always loved you.” He admits.

“And I love you Draco.”

#draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #malfoy #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco smut #draco x you #draco imagine #harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy masterlist #harry potter smut #hp smut

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class1akids · 3 years

Text

BNHA 299 - Thoughts

Well, we get Baby Keigo’s backstory, straight out of a Dickens novel, it turns out that Plushie!Endeavor was actually the most highly-functioning parental figure Hawks ever had, the Nomu!Jeanist theory is kinda confirmed - let’s go!!!!

So Hawks’ backstory is definitely in the finalist category of most miserable childhoods, as he’s born into abject poverty, to a cruel, criminal father, an alcoholic mother as an unwanted bastard child.

Look at him trying to patch up the dirty shack they live in, only to get kicked by his father, for turning his back.

It looks like his dad’s quirk is wings and his mom’s quirk are her floaty eyeballs that she can use to spy. So Keigo, this unwanted accident hit the genetic jackpot with his quirk of wings where each feather can be used and controlled individually, making him really versatile.

For now though, his wings seem to do nothing but infuriate his abusive asshole dad, whose probably worried that a winged kid could lead the authorities to him. So he’s forbidden from leaving the house, even though it seems that his feathers allow him to sense danger. Oh, wait, perfect mentor for Deku’s new quirk!!!

So his only companion is the little Endeavor plushie we saw all the way back at the pro-hero arc.

anyways, his life turns around when his dad is arrested by Endeavor and heroes become real for Hawks. And I love how in these panels it seems like the plushie really comes alive. Heroes exist. Hawks’ own doll becomes more than just a comfort object - it’s the representation of being saved and helping others.

It’s so interesting how this stands in contrast to Shigaraki’s story - for whom heroes don’t exist, because he never evidenced them in his life, or Touya’s story, who doesn’t believe in heroes because the one in his house was a literal monster.

So suck it, Stain. The moral character of the hero is not the only factor - the real impact they make in someone’s life cannot be understated.

So the cage is broken, but not fully yet, because Hawks’ mom Tomie decides to run and they end up homeless on a train station though I think they are only there for one day. Tomie sends Hawks out to steal in not quite so many words, and the life he was about to escape him threatens to swallow him whole. He really was set up for the villain path.

Still Hawks escaped his destiny when the HC offered to basically buy him from his mother (Ma’am, we’d like to put your talented kid into a secret spy/assassin training program, where we’ll train him brutally. You’ll get a house and money. OK? - OK, said Tomie).

So back in present time, Hawks wakes up and we see him driving with Best Jeanist (wow, he has a very flashy ride...) and he has the signature Todoroki face-bandages, just in case anyone doubted which plotline he belongs to. He’s also wears some kind of nuzzle, but noone can silence him as he taps away incredibly fast.

I hope this is a text-to-audio program and BJ is not text-reading and driving, because that would be a big no-no. Seriously, peeps, don’t text and drive. PSA over.

OK, so we get a stupid explanation about BJ being turned into a nomu and being kind of dead in the bag. And holy shit, 1 the hero side has nomu technology - like how and 2 that sounds like a really dumb plan. What if Dabi decided to cremate BJ instead of putting him into storage?

Anyway, villains on the rampage, Jeanist catches them with minimum effort and we get a glimpse of what’s happening in the real world: the mom’ and pop’ hero agencies are already closing down (seriously, they could not withstand like 3 days of criticism???) and at least half of the population is hating on heroes, and are ready to take things into their own prosthetic limbs.

So it turns out BJ and Hawks were driving to Hawks’ mom’s house to confirm that the Takami thief - Hawks connection was leaked by her. And it was. She even leaves a letter to say sorry and explain that Dabi sent thugs onto her and she basically folded immediately and sold out her son. What a sweet parent she is. (That’s rough, buddy.)

And it’s so heartbreaking that Hawks thinks that’s what he deserves anyway - no, baby, you don’t. And I’m not sure he’s really talking about saving here, or talking about how his idea of saving was faulty, because how can you save someone that feels like you turned your back on. Hawks broke away alone. He was forced to leave his past behind and maybe this is why Twice felt like he was talked down to.

But Hawks being a silver lining kind of guy sees an opportunity here to finally be completely free. Free of his parents. Free of the hero commission.

In a big Todoroki-like dramatic moment he takes off his nuzzle and we get a flashback.

The Origin story of Plushie!Endeavor and an acknowledgement that Tomie maybe wasn’t all bad. That even as wretched as she was, she tried to do one thing right for Hawks - by giving him an ideal to work towards.

And I love that Endeavor is so cheap he’s in the sale bin at 1/6th of the price of an All Might doll. But it’s also a social commentary on hero society, where kids in most need of a hero are priced out of getting the Symbol of Peace.

Being free to be finally both Keigo (who understands these downtrodden people because he’s one of them) and Hawks (who could soar and break away from that life), he finds the inspiration in these broken people. His mom. Endeavor. Twice. OK, let’s stop and contemplate here for a moment that Twice who created Re-Destro clone, who killed HPSC President freed Hawks from their clutches.

He remembers this purest feeling of wanting to help, of wanting to belong. And we see Hawks’ own origin. That moment he saves people in a car accident that opens the hero world to him.

First order of business is Endeavor - who was Hawks’ hero and who is in trouble now. And I’m sure everyone is going to be watching Hawks' reaction to the Dabi broadcast, because if rankings still mean anything, he’s No. 2. and heir to the throne.

But for now, it seems he wants to support Endeavor. Because being helpful is the value he wants to live by.

Also, screw the Icarus parallels, Hawks is fucking Phoenix and he’ll soar again.

And look at this literal baby and his grumpy little plushie. It was an amazing backstory and I loved every frame of it.

#bnha 299 #class1a reads bnha #hawks #takami keigo

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fuck-customers · 4 years

Text

I work at a family owned dog grooming place! And I have the best boss ever. The dogs sure can get sometimes frustrating, but you know what really grinds my gears? Customers.

FUCK CUSTOMERS. FUCK CLIENTS.

Pisses the absolute shit out of me.

I have to try to not let it get to me and just breathe and defend my boss constantly. She cries sometimes Bc she cares too much and clients are ruthless!

How many times do I have to explain to a customer “IM SORRY MA’AM YOUR DOG IS MATTTED. We cannot brush through a MATTED DOG and you can’t have pompoms!” I’m super nice and everything despite mentally wanting to kms “ma’am. Your dog is matted. It has so many knots. De-matting is really painful, and it says here on file, your dog is extremely nervous. We can’t leave him fluffy and have the pompoms we have to shave him.”

Customer: “but can’t you just brush it out?? I don’t want him looking like a rat”

Proceeds to tell customers that we cannot leave him fluffy. *the dogs coat looks like a lamb and the comb won’t eveb pierce through the coat* “ma’am we can’t. Like it’s not that we don’t want to give you a fluffy haircut, we can’t. And it’s painful for the dog”

Cue- clients screaming and saying we abuse their dogs and that we just don’t want to work with their dog.

DEAR FUCKING CLIENTS,

*IF YOUR DOG IS MATTED ITS YOUR FUCKING FAULT FOR NOT BRUSHING HIM AT HOME. OH HE DOESN’T LET YOU? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HES GONNA LET US* look, I’m not angry at the customers who do *try* to brush their dogs hair and it just so happens to be matted. Us- groomers can tell the difference between a dog who never brushes at home, to areas being matted. Or the top layer brushes but the knots just so happen to be close to the skin.

We will work with you guys. Swear. But clients need to fucking understand that, your dog is an angel at home, and *he is sweet* but your putting your dog in a situation where with a bunch of strangers, cutting and clipping, so many loud noises, so many dogs, *so much touching* that it’s gonna be scary for him. That’s why you have to be fucking patient.

So don’t you dare fucking clients, start telling us to hurry the fuck up, when your dog is fucking terrified. We have to give them breaks!! Let them calm down and give them kisses and tell them it’s okay.

And some dogs just won’t let us at all. Like period. Nothing. And you client, have to fucking understand that. This is the benefit of YOUR FUCKING DOG.

And we are trying to help your fucking dog but then all of you mother fuckers call us animal abusers.

We’re not the one who neglected your fucking dog to MATTS, or have so many fucking fleas that it’s crawling all over their eyeballs, who have severely bad skin issues. I take my sweet ass time, and go out of my way to get rid of all those ducking fleas Bc poor dog. Just poor baby doggy who are pure and innocent all Bc you don’t want to take him to a vet either.

Like I ducking love dogs. And if their stressed in the groom I freaking go help them and stop. Even give them cuddles on the couch and kisses. We take pictures and put costumes and show the clients pictures.

Please stop accusing us of hurting your dog, or giving your dog fleas, or abusing your dog, Bc that is not the case. Some dogs are just more sensitive than others and you just gotta understand that.

Whenever we *do* make a mistake and accidentally cut the dog, or something happens. WE ALWAYS LET YOU KNOW AND EVEN GIVE YOU A DISCOUNT OR FREE HAIRCUT. No charge. Makes me so mad that people accuse of all this shit how we don’t care for dogs.

Fucking check yourself client.

I see so many fucking dogs come in severely neglected.

Too many clients asking for last minute appointments, too many clients showing up HOURS late to their appointment, and saying we’re shit for not taking them in. Too many clients asking and requesting picky ass shit when your dog is difficult to work with. Too many clients saying “we give you business so you owe us” too many clients screaming. Too many clients saying abusive ass shit. Too many clients not wanting to give the rabies shot to their dogs and get angry at us. Too many clients getting angry at us for prices being too expensive, when we always try not to make it expensive. We do little things for not charging you extra for fleas, or de shedding, or nails. Whatever the fuck it is. Too many fucking clients saying they have a little dog and expect puppy price when their dog is fucking over 50 pounds. Too many clients lying.

We’re just tired. We started even collecting the fur and showing to clients and showing the comb and how we can’t comb that matted shit. But still we’re “animal abusers”

I just rather deal with the dog over you. I want to kidnap your dog and give it so many affection and kisses. Trust me, I don’t hate your dogs, I’m just tired of you clients for being shitty.

As an employee who works at a dog grooming shop, it’s not strange to have so many scratch and bite marks across your arms. It’s not strange to have poop on your clothes Bc dogs get scared they express their anal glands all over you. It’s not strange for a dog to pee all over you. It’s not strange to have some kind of injury. You get use to the bites and growls, which is why, you gotta give your fur baby space and time. We work with him, it breaks our heart when he’s crying and screaming. We do this because I fucking love it. I fucking love dogs so much that they fucking piss all over me, bite my arms (that’s why we need fucking rabies) and all kinds of shit.

Do I want them to bite me? Of course not. I try not too lmao. We muzzle them if we need too, but sometimes muzzle them stresses them out even more, so we don’t.

When we ask you to give anxiety treats or relaxer treats, please fucking do it. Your dog is too stresss, don’t fucking fight us.

Too many clients for fighting little ass shit. If your dog takes five hours, then it takes five hours, your dog needs a break too. Fuck imagine your on a table standing for that long. Older dogs, especially!! Since they can get too stress to the point of a heart attack. If it takes longer, it takes longer. There are ways to work around a stress dog, but you fucking client? I can’t say anything to not make you angry.

I can’t say anything to fucking clients without “me having to be fucking wrong” like bitch no. Your dog doesn’t want that, so why are you forcing your dog to have certain grooms when he doesn’t like it?

I had a fucking customer yell at us Bc he wanted his dogs ears standing. But his fucking dog has ears down. Ma’am it’s like your asking me you want to be taller. That’s dog genetics not fucking hair cut groom. Like what the fuck.

#fuck clients #fuck customers #dog grooming #submission

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the-melting-world · 3 years

Text

Jezebel | Solo de la Vega

This exists because @lucigucci asked for it and I couldn't say no. Sorry it took me so long! It's basically a background/personality/daily life montage for Sascha's brother, Solo. I was trying to figure out how to work some of his experiences into Sascha's story, so this is exactly what he needed!

This fic pairs well with Sascha's "Don't Call Me Daughter" miniseries!

Music: "Jezebel" by Sade

cw: there is some nested lemony content 🍋 (some choking), emotional abuse, just very bad parenting in general

~ 2.6k words

***

~ Twenty-six years ago ~

Solo and Sascha hid. They were close enough to hear the screams and the dishes shattering.

“Get out of my house!”

“I want to see my children. Please–”

“I said, GET OUT!”

And on and on it went.

Shortly after Honore stopped making his infrequent trips to Casa Vega, the Vega twins learned to never ask about him. Instead, they protected the few mementos they had of Honore and remembered him quietly, out from under the eyes of their mother…

***

~ Present Day ~

“Nanang, why would I make any of this up?”

Solo had no more fire left in him to spat with Floribeth. He just wanted to close his eyes and become unconscious to the pain settling into his bones. But his mother wouldn’t leave. Despite her petite frame, she haunted the foot of his bed like an overfed wraith.

“You were in bed all day yesterday, Solomon. How is it that you had enough energy to traipse the town with your sister this morning, but you couldn’t even pull your weight in this negotiation? Do you plan to leave April without any assistance this afternoon as well?”

Solo’s eyes smarted as he rolled onto his side and tried to hide his head under the blankets.

“You were there. You saw how that man didn’t touch any of the swatches I brought. My charms were in those swatches.”

Beth’s response came out clipped and dismissive. “So what?”

Great, Solo groaned internally, today she wants to play dumb about how my magic works.

Solo had tried to explain this to Beth before. Why couldn’t her sharp mind sense his meaning? Why did she have to make every conversation about his magic so taboo?

“Nanang, please understand…it is… easier for me when the clients touch–”

But she cut him off. “Solo, stop. You’re whining about your condition again. For all of your devotion to our practice, you forget sometimes how spoiled you’ve become. I blame myself for that. Get your rest. I’ll fetch Sascha. But you’re to be present for April by this afternoon. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Part of him wished he hadn’t agreed, but it was the only way to get her to leave. When she finally did, Solo wanted nothing more than to blackout and let his body recover the old fashioned way until Sascha administered some relief for his pain. But all he could think about was Floribeth and how guilty she had made him feel over the years.

Even though he had nothing but devote his entire body and heart to her business.

Whenever Beth became upset or disappointed with him like this, it took him back to listening to her and Honore argue. For some reason, Solo couldn’t shake off the feeling that Beth had wanted those fights to escalate between herself and the father of her children.

“Beth. Look at what you’ve done to him. By the gods, look at his hands! Every time I come back, they’re swollen or bleeding. This isn’t right.”

“Stop being melodramatic, Honore. Solomon picked up sewing faster than Sascha and all of his cousins combined. We don’t let talent go unhoned in this family.”

"He is just a child!"

"He will heal! His hands will form calluses in time and then he won’t be able to feel it anymore. The pain is only temporary. You really are an idiot."

"Let me at least take Sascha with me. You’re always complaining about her. She’ll be cared for. Happy for once–"

"You’re not taking her anywhere. Now go away."

When Solo opened his eyes again, Sascha was at his side.

***

Later that week...

Solo was where he was the most comfortable – in his dressing room, sewing a project by hand. He was alone until someone walked in. Solo recognized the newcomer almost immediately. Basil Jebel-something or other. He was an usher for a friend from what sounded like a collegiate past. Today Basil was there for alteration, without the entourage of the rest of the groom’s party.

“You came alone this time, Mister…”

“Jebeles.” His delivery was tired, but not unkind.

Solo, who was stretched out on his divan, looked up briefly from his work. “Yes, now I remember. We didn’t have your size. And we still don't, unfortunately.”

Basil made a face as he slapped his gut. “Figures.” Then he mumbled something blunt and self-deprecating.

By now, Solo was rising to his feet and warming his pearls over his knuckles.

“Please. You have a nice figure, Mr. Jebeles.” He came around behind the man, who smelled a lot like the inside of a tavern, and eyeballed his measurements with the help of his long string of pearls.

“And not all is lost. We may not have your size, but that’s why I wanted you to come back. For a closer look at what we’re working with–” Solo let his pearls slide down Basil’s frame before pulling them a little taut under his abdomen. Then he whispered, “We can easily correct the garment for the occasion.”

Not long after Solo finished up and memorized all of Basil’s measurements, he checked to see how the client was responding to his charms.

By the way Basil had dropped his dry humor and focused more on the path Solo’s hands took, the seamstress would have to say that he was responding very well.

Better than he expected in fact.

So well that Basil stayed afterward. They talked. Solo had one of the attendants bring them something to drink. Basil, it turned out, was quite easy to keep talking to and getting to know.

Very soon Basil’s back was against the floral wallpaper, his hands above his head, grasping weakly at nothing. His wrists strained against a makeshift binding out of Solo’s seemingly endless yards of freshwater pearls.

“Solo.” The barhand breathed. His head only grew dizzier against the dressmaker’s slow, lingering touches. Solo’s lips found his again with a rough tenderness. His hands roamed, dragging his pearls with him under Basil’s tunic, past his fly. The barhand turned hard in Solo’s grasp.

“Solo — ngh.”

There were no words to describe the seamstress’ calloused, dimpled touch.

“Mr. Jebeles, please relax,” Solo said, sneaking his tongue along the seam of Basil’s mouth. “Excitement breeds excitement. Keep squirming and calling on me and I’ll soil my nice linens for sure.”

“Gods. Slow down then! Perhaps we could both last longer if you unwrap those fucking pearls from around my cock—“

The bindings drifted up around his neck. “Oh? You mean these pearls? Shall we do something else with them?”

Basil locked onto the uneven, iridescent orbs. “Do you take those with you everywhere?”

Solo’s smirk was as soft as his question. “What do you wish to know?”

Basil suddenly felt very stupid for trying to initiate a conversation right then. He wished he could take it back and just quietly let the seamstress take him apart.

Solo’s smirk deepened as he read the meaning in Basil’s hesitation.

“Fine. We don’t need to go into any details until afterwards. Just try not to choke while I’m sucking you off. Simple enough?” Solo dropped to his knees without waiting for an answer, pulling his pearls taut around the client’s neck on his descent.

It wasn’t that strange for Floribeth, head of Vega Bridal, to be passing by Solo’s dressing room as he escorted his latest client out. It was, however, not like her to pause and study the poorly concealed familiarity between her son and the client who smelled like cheap booze and was clean shaven all but for those ungodly sideburns.

Solo saw the man out and joined his mother for a debriefing while they traveled to the main house. She noticed how easily he kept up with her and the slight bounce in his step as he walked.

Solo. Sascha.

Her children always needed reminding of what was what. When and how. That life didn’t give them joy without a little sacrifice. That no goodness came without consequence.

Floribeth knew that it was her duty to consistently remind them.

“Solo, honey,” the matriarch began, depriving her voice of as much edge as she could bear, “you know I don’t care one way or the other of the company you keep in your space. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for business.”

Solo managed a tight smile. “So you’ve told me in the past, nanay.”

Beth chose to ignore how Solo reverted to the more formal way to address her. The way Sascha always did unless she was throwing a tantrum.

“Well, listen closely to me because I’ve never told you what I’m about to tell you now.”

She felt better once the spirit left Solo’s gait. She finally had his attention.

Eyes forward and heels clacking briskly against the sandy tiles, Floribeth began, “You know I don’t expect you to dedicate any energy to finding a suitable partner or more to marry. Unless that’s what you want. But since you’re at that age, I’ll just say a few things.”

Solo honestly had no idea where this was going. It was true that Floribeth was very diligent about avoiding the topic of a potential marriage in Solo’s future. Thanks to his condition and the value of his magic to the business, he had been excused from much of the pressure that came down on young de la Vegas to grow and expand the family as quickly as possible.

Floribeth carried on. “Your father would have never so much as caught my eye if it hadn’t been for those damnable charms. Their existence made me question everything we had…”

Solo did not expect to hear the slip, if ever so slight, of sadness in his mother’s tone. She was quick to recover from it.

“So one can assume that even with all of your charisma, in the end, it could never yield a proper marriage. Perhaps you could get someone to love you, but it wouldn’t be true love, Solo. And it wouldn’t be fair to the other person. You can never forget that. Eventually your charms will wear off and they will suffer in some way or another. You’re smart, Solomon. I’m sure you’ve figured all this out by now.”

Solo’s lip quivered.

“Yes, nanang.”

He managed to keep his voice from shaking.

“That makes a lot of sense now that you point it out. Thank you.”

He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up.

***

Solo felt stupid and selfish for running to Sascha’s room and collapsing onto her lap. In seconds, he was sobbing, his make-up running, his outbursts incoherent and shrill.

“That’s basically what she told me, Sascha!”

Solo was beside himself. He couldn’t believe the state of anger he had allowed Floribeth to work him into.

“I’m incapable of being loved in any natural way? Because of…” He lifted his pearls up over his head and shook them in his fist. “Because of these?”

Then the seamstress made a wretched sound as he hurled the ancestral pearls at the wall.

“Well I didn’t ask for them! I just do what she wants of me all the time, but sure, Sasch – no one can love me!”

Solo could feel Sascha trying to call her magic to the surface and soothe him with it. But that wouldn’t do any good. This was a different kind of pain.

“Solo, shhh. It’s okay. It’s not true. You know it isn’t true.”

Solo barely heard her. He sobbed until he couldn’t anymore.

Later, when Solo had gotten it all out of his system and he was leaning against Sascha while she played in his hair, he whispered, “Sasch. Can I tell you something?”

He had opened the question in broken Esmeraldi. Sascha answered in the same way, signaling that whatever he said would be kept safe and just between them.

“My charms have always behaved in strange ways, yet I’m the only one who’s ever understood them. I can’t explain it, but Sascha, I know what I know. They only work to flex people’s attitude about the material world. People are people – they internalize those feelings and sometimes what they feel has the potential to carry them beyond the object. Still, whatever feeling they project out into the world came from a foundation of something inanimate. It’s all in the dress, the garment, the pearls, whatever they’re wearing or touching.” He paused to take a breath. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s impossible to generate a charm through my own... self.”

Sascha remained silent, but Solo could feel her thinking.

The seamstress added, “It makes me think about tatang–uh. I mean Honore.”

“So,” Sascha said finally, “all those times Beth claimed our father tricked her into feeling things for him that were never there... you’re saying that she was full of it?”

Solo frowned. “I don’t think she lied on purpose, but I could see her needing something to justify her own decisions to herself. The charms are an easy thing to blame.”

Sascha helped her brother off of her and into an upright position so she could look him in the eye.

“Solo, if you were to ever tell nanay this, she would just deny it.”

His gaze drifted elsewhere. “…. I know.”

Sascha gave his shoulders a gentle shake. “I don’t say that to be harsh, Solo.”

Solo reached up to pry her hands from her shoulders and cradled them between his own scarred palms.

“Not at all, Sasch. I’m... relieved that I came to this realization. It means that no matter what nanang says about me, I know it can never be true.” He paused. “I don’t get to talk through these sorts of things very often. But it’s the only way I’m able to make sense of all of it… everything that you and I have been through.”

Sascha smiled, which gave Solo hope more than anything else. “If you ever need to talk again, I’m here.”

She got off her bed and made her way across the room. She came back with Solo’s pearls and placed them around his neck.

“I needed to hear that,” Solo whispered, his voice full of emotion. “Thank you.”

Sascha glanced down and noticed that Solo hadn’t gone to reassure himself by touching the pearls.

She said, “You know, something that I’ve noticed over the years is this. Whenever our family comes to visit from Esmeralda or even as far as Catclaw, they like to dump their old, creepy heirlooms on us.”

Sascha looked up at her brother and pushed aside the bang that always managed to cascade over the left side of his face.

“Cousins and great aunts and uncles whose names we never knew and probably won’t ever remember walk through here with artifacts that look like they should belong in a museum. And who do they bring them to? Not Beth. It’s never Beth. They bring them to you.”

Before Solo knew it, his scarred fingers were walking along the lace in his dress, seeking out the ancient voices, beaded and condensed in layers against his torso.

“You know the placement of each pearl by heart and the ancestor it belonged to. Our family members come to you to feel reassured, Solo. They leave our past with you because they know it’s safe in your hands. Clients come to you to feel beautiful and cherished. So the next time Floribeth tries to make you feel low...”

Sascha brushed a tear that had escaped Solo’s dark eyes.

“I want you to remember whose face comes to mind when people think of Vega Bridal… and who it is our ancestors have always looked to.”

#the arcana #solo de la vega #solo the seamstress #sascha de la vega #sascha the gunslinger #floribeth de la vega #stefan honore #basil jebeles #my writing #lemony

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Note

please give me Anything himbo roger i need this like perhaps... him being obsessed with eating pussy? pls? - cloud anon

I’m so so so glad you requested more himbo rog because i love any excuse to write him lmao. This is a bit of a long one, certainly well over blurb length but what are you gonna do. I just have a lot of thots where himbo rog is concerned and then there was that convo a little while ago about dressing him in a maid uniform and I had to use it in here.

warnings: smut, hypnosis & bimbofication, dom!reader, fingering, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, a little bit of spanking, a little choking, a very brief mention of public sex, free use (perhaps leaning ever so slightly into consensual non consent), humiliation and degradation

Blurb Advent: Day 15

Future Management Series (all my bimbo/himbo writing)

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

The costume shop was quiet when you entered it, one of the fluorescent lights at the far end flickering. The lady at the counter looked up from her magazine, her gaze lingering on Roger for a moment before she looked back down.

“What was the theme again?” you asked Roger as you flicked through a rack of women’s costumes.

“The letter M,” he replied from one of the other racks.

“How did Freddie pick that?”

“Dunno, you’d have to ask him. Bigger question is what are we going to wear.”

“What about Mickey and Minnie Mouse?” you shrugged.

“That sounds easy. And we’d look cute as fuck.”

“Sorry, hun,” the woman at the counter piped up, “Sold out of them two days ago.”

“Rats.”

“Mice, love,” Roger teased poking his tongue out as he went to check out another row of costumes, “We could make them from scratch I suppose.”

“Left it a bit late though. We’re meant to have them by Saturday.” You headed to the counter in the hopes that the woman there would be able to speed things up, “Do you have any other costumes starting with M then?”

She sighed as she were being interrupted in a very important task before putting down her magazine and pulling out a binder full of lists of stock. Flicking through it she located the section with M. An awful lot of it had been crossed out.

“How many people are invited to this thing? And do they all shop here?”

He shrugged as he joined you at the counter, “Roughly half of London if his last party was anything to go by. What are our options?”

The women smiled at Roger, her attitude becoming much friendlier now that he was involved, “Not a lot I’m afraid. We’ve still got a Mummy, as in Ancient Egypt, ummm, a Maid, as in French, Marilyn Monroe, Mary Poppins, a Monk, Mrs Clause, Medieval Princess…”

“Looks like you’ll be easy to sort out,” Roger said to you, “not much in the way of mens costumes though. I’d be an alright Mummy I guess,”

“Sorry, should have specified. It’s a women’s costume that one. Very sexy,”

“How do you make a Mummy sexy?”

“Strategically removed bandages. I can show you if you like,” she said this last part to Roger, suggestion dripping from every word.

“What about the Monk?” you suggested.

“Ehhhh,”

“Beggars can’t be choosers Rog.”

“Alright, it’s the backup idea. Would I be able to fit in any of those other costumes though?”

The woman thought about it, giving Roger a once over as if measuring him with just her eyeballs, “The Maid maybe. Think we should have one large enough.”

“Alright I’ll try that.”

“And I’ll go Marilyn Monroe?”

“You as Marilyn? Oh there’s a joke in there somewhere…something about How To Mary A Millionaire?”

You shook your head at him, “Just go and try on your dress,”

It was a good thing Roger had no qualms about cross dressing because the maid outfit fit perfectly. One look at Roger’s legs in the short, ruffled skirt had your mind whirring with ideas. He bought both your costumes, adding in a maid’s headband and fishnet stockings for himself and a blond Marilyn wig for you. And on Saturday night you watched him don the outfit once more, struggling to keep your hands off him. Without you knowing, he’d gone and bought himself a pair of simple black heels, explaining that if he was going to do it he might as well do it properly. Unfortunately for you they just emphasised the shape of his legs in the fishnets and made his hips sway as he walked.

The party itself was fun but you constantly found yourself zoning out, thinking about what you’d like to do to Roger before he got out of the dress.

“Love?” he asked, making you blink yourself back to the thumping music and loud voices, “You alright?’

“Fine,” you nodded.

Roger frowned and grabbed your hand, leading you away from the main throng of people, “You’ve been zoning out all night, are you sure you’re okay? Haven’t had too much to drink or anything?”

“No, it’s fine. Someone lit up a joint before and I must have breathed in some of it without meaning to.”

He gave you a look like he knew there was more to it.

“Also, maybe I can’t stop thinking about trancing you in that dress.”

“Oh,” his eyes widened and if it hadn’t been as dark as it was you would have seen a light pink stain creeping up his neck. He glanced around and then pulled you off down the hall and towards an even quieter spot, “and um, what might that look like?”

“I don’t know, got a few ideas,” your breath hitched as Roger pushed you into a dark corner of whichever room you’d ended up in, “like the idea of you on your knees. Bet I could see your arse if you leaned forward enough.”

Roger attached his lips to your throat, oblivious of if anyone else was around.

“Maybe spanking you or edg – ” you were cut off as Roger kissed you full on the mouth, his hands already working at getting his underwear and stockings down far enough to get his dick out.

“We’ll continue this conversation at home,” he said as he lifted you up, pushing your back against the wall as he moved your underwear aside.

It took a couple of days for the topic to come up again but Roger was still just as into it as he had been at the party. He’d clearly been thinking about it too because he had almost as many ideas as you did and for a week or so you discussed it on and off. It came up intermittently, sometimes a single idea out of nowhere.

“What if you tranced me and made me think I was your maid or uhhh servant? Maybe like acted really strict? Or mean even?”

“What about I get a bell to ring to get your attention but use the hypnosis to condition you to get hornier when you hear it?”

Or sometimes it was more of a conversation with each of you building on what the other said.

“What do you think about exploring that free use thing we talked about a few months ago? Like me just having you how I want and when I want.”

“Would that require a more extended hypnosis? A whole day maybe? More?”

“No I don’t think so. I mean, maybe longer than the usual couple of hours. An afternoon? Not longer than a day though, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that to you.”

“Then yeah okay, we did agree it sounded hot in a non-hypno way so mixing them together should work. Um, what about that pegging thing we tried?”

“You wanna do it again?”

“Yeah I think so. Again, it was pretty hot last time so doing it while I’m hypnotised can only be better, right?”

“Are you sure? We’re both pretty new to it.”

“Yeah I’m sure. I really enjoyed it,” he laughed nervously, “and I would have suggested doing it again anyway, this just seems like a good excuse.”

By the end of the week you had a pretty solid idea about what you were both looking for from the scene and what you’d both feel comfortable doing. And you arranged it so you were both at home on Friday, free to spend the morning relaxing and the afternoon playing.

After an early lunch in which you made sure to mess up the kitchen, Roger went and changed, once again putting on the dress, fishnets, hair piece and shoes. Only this time he wore one of your thongs, sheer black, underneath and a butt plug you’d picked up for him, complete with a pink jewel on the end. For your part, you dressed in one of your work outfits with a grey pencil skirt and white blouse, hopeful that it would make you seem more authoritative. Roger did a little spin for you when he was dressed and then sat in one of the kitchen chairs so you could talk him down into his trance. The scenario you’d agreed upon had him believing he was your silly brainless maid, hired to do whatever you asked. The sound of your bell meant you had another task for him, but it also made him extra horny. So horny in fact that he’d have trouble remembering what he was meant to be doing. As you dropped him deeper and he relaxed more, you noticed his legs spreading further open, making you laugh to yourself. Finally you rang the bell to wake him.

Roger grinned at you from the chair, “What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Your first job of the day, Dummy,” you said, putting on a stern voice that left no room for argument, “is to dust off the bookshelf in the living room. It’s filthy up there.”

“Where?”

“Through this doorway,” you pointed and he dutifully stood up and began to walk toward it.

“You’ll need a duster,” you reminded him.

“Oh! Of course, Ma’am. Umm….”

“In that cupboard,”

Roger nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment and retrieved the feather duster.

You followed him out to the living room, watching his skirt bounce with each step. He started off with the shelves at eye level, humming to himself as he brushed the duster over them, but soon had to move on to the shelves higher up. You perched yourself on the couch, acting as if you were reading though your eyes were on Roger, watching as he wobbled on his tip toes, his skirt riding up. You rang the bell and Roger jolted, looking around for you as he bit his lip.

“Yes Ma’am?”

“I think you might need to stand on a chair, Dummy. It doesn’t seem like you can reach the top shelves.”

He nodded and hurried to retrieve one, nearly running in his haste to please you.

The chair was a stroke of genius on your part. It gave you a good view up his skirt as he happily continued his dusting, especially when he leant over to get the far end of each shelf without moving his chair. You could clearly see the pink jewel every time and it made you eager to get him onto the next task. With another ring of the bell Roger jumped down to the ground and hurried to ask what he could do now.

“My shoes,” you said, pointing at the heels on your feet, “they need polishing. I want you to spit shine them for me.”

Roger blinked at you.

You clicked and pointed at your shoes again, “On your knees. C’mon, I’m not paying you to stand around and look pretty. Lick my shoes clean.”

“Yes Ma’am, sorry Ma’am,” he bowed his head and dropped to his knees where he stood, crawling over to you.

“Good Dummy,” you said as he trailed his tongue over the toe of your shoe. You’d wiped down the shoes earlier just to make sure Roger wouldn’t pick up any germs from them, but he was too brainless to notice they were already clean, enthusiastically licking at them. You made it clear you were watching him closely though. Midway through the second shoe you saw him brush his hand over the front of the skirt and stopped his shoe shining.

“I’m sorry, Dummy, is this making you horny?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,”

“Show me how much,” you wiggled your shoe under the hem of the skirt and pressed it lightly up, rubbing the toe against his crotch, “Hump my shoe, Maid.”

Without any more encouragement he began doing exactly as you’d asked, dragging his clothed cock along the top of your shoe, letting his eyes shut as he bit his lip.

“Alright, enough.” You pulled your food free and held it out in front of you, “Is it my imagination or did you make a mess on my shoe?”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I think you’re so fucking horny you’ve got precum all over my shoe. Is that right?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well,” you grabbed him by the hair and pushed him over the streak, “clean it up and tell me.”

Roger whimpered as you pulled his hair to move him where you wanted but thanked you for helping him and confirmed you were right. After that you felt he deserved a reward so you readjusted yourself, pulling your pencil skirt a little higher up your legs before you rang the bell again.

Roger groaned quietly at the sound, his breathing a little harder than before and then sat back. His eyes fell to where your skirt was gathered against your thigh as you crossed your legs.

“What now Ma’am?” he watched closely as you recrossed your legs, “Is there something else you’d like me to lick?”

“I don’t know. Is there something else you’d like to lick?”

He nodded, eyes still firmly on your thighs.

“Aren’t you just a pathetic little slut.”

“Am I?”

“I’m afraid so. Do you understand why?”

Roger nodded, still staring at your crotch, and then shook his head.

“Oh Dummy. It’s one thing to be my good little maid and eat me out when I tell you to, it’s entirely different for you to ask to do it. Do you see how slutty that makes you?”

Roger tilted his head and then shook it.

You tutted at him and knocked the bell as if on accident.

He whined at the sound.

“Crawl to the dining room. I want you to wash the floor in there.”

“But…please? I want to lick you soooooo bad and I’d be so good at it.”

“Careful, Maid. Now crawl.

“Yes Ma’am.” Roger dipped his head in apology and began crawling to the next room.

You stepped around him to retrieve a bucket of water and a cloth, placing both on the floor of the dining room where he stopped, “You know what to do.”

He looked at the bucket and back to you, confusion written all over his face.

With an exaggerated and exasperated sigh you handed him the cloth and, taking hold of his wrist, plunged his hand into the warm water. He gasped as you then wrenched it free and dropped it to the floorboards.

“Scrub.”

He nodded, looking mildly upset and dragged the cloth slowly over the floor.

You watched for a little while before coming up behind him, “Put your back into it, stop being lazy.” you pressed his upper back with your foot to make him bend forward.

His neck and face were bright pink, though it was hard to say whether it was arousal or embarrassment that was making him flush more. He did as you asked though, scrubbing the floor harder. You stepped behind him again, admiring the view and occasionally reminding him what you expected. After you felt you’d watched him struggle enough you stepped up behind him again. He pushed the cloth harder, expecting another reprimand. Instead you trailed you hand over the curve of his arse, pushing his skirt up higher.

Roger stilled, though you heard him whine softly into the floor.

“You’re doing a very good job, Dummy.”

He gasped when you suddenly spanked him but he pushed his arse back against your hand.

“You want another?”

He shook his head but kept pressing back against you.

“But I think you do,” You gave him another spank, “Now keep being good and see if you can earn some more.”

He nodded and smiled, though there were tears in his eyes, and then returned to scrubbing the floor.

You let him go for a while, stepping out into the other room to calm down and get ready for the next part of the plan. You could feel your wetness pooling in your underwear with how turned on you were at ordering Roger around and how much he was enjoying it. Originally you were going to make him wait to get you off until after you’d fucked him but perhaps you could have your cake and eat it too. All the same you headed to the bedroom to gather the strap and dildo you’d bought when the topic of pegging had first arisen between you. You grabbed them and the lube and then put them down again as you considered your next move. The conclusion you came to was that there wasn’t much point having a desperate bimbo toy if you were only going to deny yourself. Roger came as much as he wanted when you were the one under his influence, so why shouldn’t you do the same. You quickly shimmied out of your underwear, and then picked everything up again, dropping it on the couch in the living room on your way back to see how Roger was getting along. He was still scrubbing though he’d spilt some of the water as he’d moved the bucket, the top of his dress wet in patches. You pulled out one of the chairs, standing in front of it as you rang the bell, and watched as Roger squirmed at the sound.

“What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Come here.”

He immediately dropped the cloth and crawled towards you.

“Good Dummy. Need your fingers to make me feel good.” You rucked your skirt up and dropped onto the seat, placing one leg up on the table.

Rogers eyes lit up and he leaned forward as if to lick hungrily along your slit.

You grabbed his hair and held him back.

“Ma’am?” Roger whined, struggling against your grip with his tongue hanging out, desperate to reach your cunt.

“I said fingers, slut.”

Roger whimpered again but brought his hand up, trailing his fingers along your slit.

“That’s right Dummy. You’re gonna finger me and make me cum and you’re going to keep your eyes up here so I know you’ll behave yourself.”

He nodded rapidly, his eyes on yours, “You’re wet,”

“You know how much I like watching your cute little arse work. C’mon, finger me,” you instructed, waiting until he’d sunk one digit into you before continuing, “Love seeing you with that pretty plug. Makes me want to use you.”

“Ma’am can I…?”

“I didn’t say you could talk. Focus.”

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled his finger out and pressed it back in.

“You look confused Slut. What’s the matter?”

“Is this good?”

You smiled indulgently at that, half convinced he’d been about to ask to eat you out again, “So good Dummy. Add a second finger.”

He did as you asked, automatically curling them against you as he pulled them out.

“You’re such a good, obedient servant.” You relaxed back into the chair, letting Roger find a good rhythm.

He was quiet for a bit, concentrating, and then “Can I lick you now?”

You made a tutting noise, “I thought you understood your position.”

“Pos-tition?”

“I guess I have to explain it again then. I don’t care if you like licking cunt, this isn’t about you. You’re my maid. Your job is to serve me however I want, remember? I don’t care if you want something different. You’re mine to use how and when I want. Those were the conditions I hired you under, do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am,”

“Are you sure? Then why haven’t I cum yet?”

Roger kept his eyes locked on yours as he sunk a third finger into you, pumping them faster and bringing his other hand up to rub your clit.

“Better,” you managed to get out, though it was much breathier than you’d intended.

Roger poked his tongue out between his teeth as he put all his energy into pleasuring you. You let your head drop back, rocking your hips in time with his thrusts as he sank his fingers deep into you, his other hand firmly occupied too. He slid his thumb between your lips and up to circle your clit, spreading your arousal over your cunt. The mixture of sensations sent you over the edge without too much delay, your legs clamping shut to keep his hand where you wanted it until you’d come down. Afterwards you made Roger hold his fingers up, cleaning them off with your own tongue. He whined and pouted as he watched you lick up your juices, so desperate to taste you for himself. You gave him a small concession though, grabbing his cheeks when you were done to force his mouth open. He looked confused as you brought your face close and spat onto his tongue, your saliva tinged with what you’d just licked from his fingers. But he thanked you with a big smile and a small hum of satisfaction as he swallowed it.

“What now Ma’am?” he asked softly, sitting up straighter and glancing at the bell.

You bumped the bell against your palm as if in thought, watching Roger wince with each ring, “The kitchen needs a tidy up. Go in there and wipe down all the benches for me, okay? I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

Roger nodded and walked on unsteady legs back through the house. You followed him, needing to point him in the right direction a couple of times, and then continued on to the living room to collect your supplies and remove your skirt. It took you a little while to figure out the harness. Last time Roger had helped you get set up so doing it on your own was a little confusing. You took a breath and reminded yourself you were a smart and capable woman and that you could figure out a simple sex toy on your own, and eventually got it on right. When you were comfortable you popped open the lube and spread more than you thought you’d need along the shaft of the toy. It still felt a little bizarre to look down and see a penis, even if it was obviously fake. The first time you’d tried it on you’d wondered aloud if the work you did for those living rough would have been easier to achieve if you had a real one and Roger had suggested you wear it to work one day and find out. You’d laughed at how ridiculous that was and the memory made you chuckle again as you double checked everything was in the right place.

Roger was in the kitchen when you arrived, standing at the bench with a cloth in his hand, humming to himself, though he seemed to have forgotten what he was meant to be doing. You stepped behind him and ran your hand up the inside of his thigh, over the stockings.

The humming stopped and he stilled, “Ma’am?”

“Bend over.”

He did as you asked, his chest and arms leaning on the bench.

You felt him up, letting your hands roam under his skirt, brushing over his cock and along his thigh and over his arse, making his shiver and whine. “Good thing this dress is so short, Dummy. Makes it so much easier for me. And it makes you look like a slut. You’re very hard by the way, does that mean you like it when I tell you what to do?”

His voice was soft when he spoke to the bench top, “Yes, Ma’am,”

“That’s good because I like telling you what to do. And you should be happy to know that I’m wet from watching my brainless maid working all day.”

“I am happy!”

“You are?”

“Mmhmm. Maybe I could help you Ma’am, I love cunt so much.”

“Aww Dummy,” you cooed, stroking your fingers through his hair, “That’s sweet of you to offer but it’s not what I want right now,” you took the fishnets in both hands and tugged until a rip formed right along the back, “For now I want you to stay bent over for me so I can use you. Just like I talked about before, remember?”

“When you said I’m yours to use how you want?”

“You do remember! Good boy!”

“And you said, ummmm,” he gasped as you moved his underwear aside and began slowly working the plug out of him, adding lube to make it easier

“Go one, what else did I say?” you asked as you pushed the plug back in, fucking him with it, adding more lube as necessary.

“Umm, you said they were the,” he stretched out the word as he thought hard, “oh! The co-com-bit-ons and that its, umm, my job to serve you?”

“Very good! That was so much to remember, I’m very impressed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dummy. I think I’ll have to give you a reward for remembering it all so well.”

Roger looked over his shoulder at you, grinning, “Thank you Ma’am,”

“Alright, turn back around, I’m still going to use you. Because….?”

“Because I’m yours?”

“Good boy,” you pulled the plug free and placed it on the bench beside you. Squeezing some more lube onto your fingers you began spreading it over his arsehole.

“‘s cold,” he said softly to the bench.

“I know baby, but it won’t be for long. And I gotta make sure there’s enough so that I don’t hurt you. And then you’ll be all ready for my cock.”

Roger nodded, flattening himself on the bench as you lined up the tip of the dildo and slowly sank into him.

Roger made a high pitched keening noise and you reached out to stroke his hair again as he adjusted.

“You okay, baby?” you asked letting the stern act drop for a moment.

Roger nodded, “yeah, ‘m okay. Just feels funny.”

“But good though?”

“Mmhmm. Good.”

“Good. I want you to like it. It’s more fun when you do.”

“I do!” as if to prove it he pushed his hips back, making you sink a little deeper.

“I can see that,” you laughed, “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay Dummy, and you’re going to enjoy it, right?”

He nodded, whining as you pulled your hips back slowly and then thrust forward again, figuring out your rhythm and adjusting to the sort of muscle movement it required. As you got more comfortable with it you let yourself be a little firmer, grasping Roger’s waist and fucking him harder, drawing more gasps and whines and moans from him. You varied your speed, sometimes faster and sometimes slower, keeping Roger from knowing exactly what you would do next (and giving yourself a break every so often). He’d taken your instruction to enjoy it to heart though. His fingernails scraped along the top of the bench as he tried to ground himself, rocking his hips back against you whenever you slowed.

“I want you to cum, Dummy. Rub your cock through your pretty sheer panties.”

“Th-through?”

“Over your panties.”

“Um,”

You stilled your hips and pulled out of him so you could grab his hand and lift his skirt, placing his palm over his cock, “now rub.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he began to stroke himself. His hand stilled as you plunged into him again but a warning word made him remember what you wanted and he shakily followed your orders as you fucked him hard.

“How does it feel, Maid, being used for my entertainment?”

Roger babbled something incomprehensible in response. You couldn’t tell if it was just noise or if he’d been trying to form words but it was hot either way.

“C’mon, show me how much you like being my pretty little fuck doll. Be the pathetic little slut I know you are, and cum.” You panted between the words but Roger didn’t seem to notice or if he did he didn’t care. It must have sounded authoritative enough because a few seconds later he was moaning, his fingers twitching and legs shaking as he came. You slowed to a stop and replaced the dildo with his plug again before fixing his underwear and smoothing down his skirt.

“There, all pretty again,”

“Thank you Ma’am,” he sighed.

You patted his head, “Finish up cleaning off the benches in here and I’ll have another job for you.” You walked off, releasing a long breath once you were out of his hearing.

In the time it took you to get out of the harness, put your skirt back on, throw the dildo into a sink of hot water and relocate the bell, Roger achieved very little. He hadn’t moved from where you’d bent him over though he had stood up and grabbed his cloth again, drawing circles with it over the benchtop. When you came back to get him for his next job he was shifting from foot to foot.

“What’s the matter, Dummy?”

“Nothing,”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded though he didn’t meet your eye.

“Tell me.”

“My panties…”

“Aww, is it a bit uncomfortable?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Well maybe I can distract you.” You rang the bell and watched as his eyes glazed over and his hips jolted. “The bed needs to be made Dummy. Go on, off you go.”

He nodded and hurried off, his heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, his step awkward as he squirmed in discomfort. You followed him and showed him where to get a clean sheet from, watching as he pottered around the bed pulling off all the bedding, throwing them into a pile on the floor. Putting a new fitted sheet on the mattress seemed to be too hard a task though. It was almost cartoonish how much he struggled, placing the wrong corner of the sheet on the wrong corner of the bed and then somehow repeating the same mistake when he tried to turn the sheet around. He wouldn’t stand still, uncomfortably dancing around in his cum soaked underwear, getting more and more frustrated as the corner he thought he’d got on flew up when he tried to fit the next one. Every so often you jangled the bell under the guise of getting his attention to give him a helpful tip or reprimand him for taking so long, but it had the added effect of turning him on more than he already was, his face flushed and his eyes begging. You let him continue for a few minutes and then, when he next turned in response to your bell, you surprised him by pushing him onto the mattress.

“Ma’am?” he asked, voice trembling as you positioned yourself on his thigh and pushed his dress up.

“You made such a mess before, didn’t you? Ruined your panties and I’m afraid it’s spread to your pretty dress,” you showed him the patches on the inside of the skirt from where it had rubbed against the sheer fabric of his knickers and been stained. “Lucky for you I like messy little sluts. And” you palmed him roughly, “I think you like it too. Already hard again?”

Roger shook his head but tilted his head back and whined.

You placed your hand over his throat, “Don’t lie to me, Maid. I can see it; I can feel it. You’re a dirty little slut who gets off on being my property. My dumb little fuck doll.” You punctuated the last sentence by grinding against his thigh with each word, squeezing his length through his stained underwear. “I’m going to make you cum again now and if you’re good I might see about letting you eat me out. I did promise you a reward earlier,”

“Please,” Roger whimpered, “I’ll make you feel so, so good.”

“I know, Dummy. But not yet.” You squeezed his throat at the same time you rubbed your hand over his cock, choking off the moan that had begun to build. Roger squirmed under you as you wanked him off, cooing at him about how pretty he looked and how wet it was making you. Each stroke along his shaft was accompanied by a breathy whine or moan, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut. It was always fun to watch Roger be pushed towards release when he was tranced. It was fun when he wasn’t hypnotised either but there was something about taking his brain away that made him more animated and vocal. He babbled at you again, his hand grabbing your wrist as he got closer, his back arching as he tried to buck his hips up into you.

“Good boy, good Dummy,” you praised him as he finished, able to feel the warmth of his release fill the material again as you kept stroking him, milking every drop you could. He whined loudly as he became more sensitive, but you kept toying with him until tears began leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Alright, Dummy, stay there while I take my skirt off.”

Roger remained lying where you left him, so you gave him a soft kiss and wiped away his tears, praising him a little more, before you swung your leg over his face and finally let him have what he wanted.

It was as if you’d told him he’d won the lottery. He just about cheered as he thanked you repeatedly and then wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you down onto his tongue. You had to stick out an arm to try and steady yourself as he devoured you, excitedly tracing your lips with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth. He hummed and whimpered against you and used his hands to encourage you to rock yourself against his mouth, spreading your wetness across his face. At one point, so giddy with joy, he giggled, and you jolted at the bizarre tickling sensation of his breath. But that just seemed to spur him on as he licked and sucked every inch of your cunt he could reach. You weren’t sure if his end goal was to make you cum or if he just got very excited and enthusiastic about pussy but, either way, the result was the same. It was impossible to hold back your release as his tongue slid along your folds and his lips latched onto you. He hummed as you gasped and tensed above him, refusing to stop until you pried his hands from your thighs and let yourself fall back to the bed. He pouted as if he wanted to throw a tantrum at having his favourite food taken away, but you managed to make him smile by telling him how incredible you felt and how good he was.

He let you lie down next to him and listened quietly as you talked him out of the trance, reminding him who he was and the reality of your situation. You waited as Roger opened his eyes, stroking his hair back from his face softly as everything returned to him.

“Wow,” was the first thing he said, “That was,” he cleared his throat and pushed himself to sit up, “that was something.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, a very fun something,” he hurried to clarify so you wouldn’t worry, “I take it you enjoyed yourself too?”

You laughed and nodded, “Definitely. This is going to sound bad but I like being mean to you.”

“I get it,” he leaned over to kiss you softly, “I like being mean to you too.”

“And the pegging and free use stuff? All of that was okay? How do you feel now?”

“Oh, better than okay. That was brilliant. We’re definitely playing with them more in the future. Bit sore now and I really, really want to get out of this thong. Also take the plug out.”

“I can arrange that. D’you want some help with the plug?”

“Yes please.” Roger shifted onto his stomach, trying to relax so you could peel off the underwear and slowly wiggle the plug out of his arse, “Add these knickers to the list of ones I’ve ruined though.”

“That’s only cause I get such a kick out of making you cum in your pants.”

He hummed, wincing a little as the plug slipped all the way out, “y’know one of these days I’m going to wake up from a trance and decide to gag you with whatever underwear you made me destroy while I keep eating you out. I still have a bit of a lingering need to have my head between your legs and I do so enjoy overstimulating you.”

“Save that for a special occasion,” you laughed, giving his bum a tap to let him know he could roll over, “C’mon, shall I run us a bath?”

Roger nodded and let you pull him up, kissing you softly before he stood on slightly wobbly legs followed you out of the bedroom.

#my writing #my blurbs #or rather #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #lord have mercy #i need to lie down for 12 years after this #Anonymous #blurb advent 2020

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hold-me-sickfics · 3 years

Text

Alright y’all, I’m proud to introduce you to some of my new OCs! There are more coming, but these are the first😊💖💜 I want to thank @thatoneemokpop-02 and @bt20-whump for proofreading and inspiration. You two are awesome 💜💖💙 so... here goes 😊

TW: food, strip club mention, alcohol, emeto, tiny heartbreak, lots of fluffy cuteness (I think that’s all but if you see any I missed please let me know and I will fix them!)

“Parker, what is the point of coming to the library if you are not going to study?” Cody only looked up from his laptop for a moment before refocusing on his screen.

“I’m trying to help my poor, clueless friend find a date to the smart people formal.” Parker was spinning his fidget spinner at speeds unheard of by mankind.

Cody rolled his eyes, stealing just one more glance to his left.

Parker noticed.

“Dude, why will you not just go talk to her?” Parker could definitely have been heard from across the room.

“Talk to who? I wasn’t looking at anyone.” Cody blushed, his cheeks involuntarily rising in a smile to meet the rims of his glasses.

“Sure. So you were totally not just checking Brooklyn out. Of course not, so you won’t mind if I just go on over there and-”

“Wait! Wait.”

Parker smirked.

“Maybe I was. It’s not important.”

“Are you kidding? Look when you meet the chick that makes you… well… I won’t say it for your sake but if Maverick was here I would. Anyways, that means you gotta shoot your shot. It’s like basketball.”

“Parker I hate sports. We’ve been over this.”

“All because one frisbee hit your glasses yeah yeah…” Parker looked over at Brooklyn. She looked like Cody’s type. He had to get Cody to at least attempt it.

“What if you ask for her snap?”

“I’m not doing that.” Cody shut his laptop. “And another thing. It looks sleazy to just walk up to a girl and ask for her snap okay? You really should try a new method.”

Parker had his idea.

“Oh… you know what? You’re right. What should I do instead?”

“I don’t know, maybe… talk to her? Like at least get on some sort of “friend” level before you ask. It just looks better.”

“Uh huh…” Parker was getting ready to help Cody in a slightly less than orthodox way. “So to talk to her, you’d need a reason right?”

Cody looked over at her, hoping she wouldn’t catch him.

“Yeah… some sort of reason I guess.”

“Okay, don’t kill me.”

Parker got up, and started to walk over to Brooklyn’s table. She was there alone, seemingly very involved in her studies.

“Pardon me ma’am. My name’s Parker, and I was wondering if you like pineapple on pizza?”

Brooklyn blushed.

“I don’t exactly think it’s my thing… although pepperoni is pretty good.” She smiled.

“Awesome. So now that I’ve been established as the crazy person you have in common, Cody?” Parker called back to his previous seat. Cody had his face hidden in a book. He peeked out, throwing the book aside and doing his best to act “chill” as Parker had called it.

“Hi Brooklyn, I apologize for this… i don’t really know what to call him actually. I’m Cody. The-” he partially glared at Parker “more sane one.”

“It’s nice to meet you Cody, and Parker.” She bit her lip, and Cody felt his entire body go stiff. Parker could tell he had to save the day once again.

“So, you’re a hot girl. Have a date to the smart people dinner thing yet?”

“You mean the Academic Formal?”

“Yeah, love the bigger words. They really suit ya.”

“Let me just- one second.” Cody practically pulled Parker over to the side.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m good at it, thank you.” Parker winked, and then went back to Brooklyn.

“Here’s the thing, my main man Cody here doesn’t have a date yet, and I thought you two would make a really cute couple so here’s his snap.”

Cody felt dizzy. Had Parker really just done that? This was the last time he was ever disclosing feelings to him. Actually, come to think of it, this is not the first time he’s said that.

Parker laid on his classic *Dean Winchester* smile, and then came back over to Cody.

“I’m literally planning your demise as we speak.”

------ time skip to 5:00 pm, in Parker’s dorm room------

“Ah I did good today. I found love for the little guy. I’m proud of myself and that means-”

“Do not touch the ice cream Parker I swear I will hurt you.”

Parker jumped.

“Maverick you aren’t supposed to be home yet!”

“And you aren’t supposed to touch my ice cream. So, even.” Maverick took the container away from Parker.

“Now, you wanna explain to me why Cody is trying to recruit me to kill you?”

“Not really.”

“Should I have him explain it?”

“Probably not… how about you just eat your ice cream hm? That would end well for all of us.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. He knew Parker must have really done something bad this time.

*buzz* *buzz*

Parker’s phone went off.

5:23 pm Cody: “ Why did you have to butt in?”

5:24 pm Parker: “ Because you couldn’t do it yourself.”

5:26 pm Cody: “Yeah and if you hadn’t done it, I could still be admiring her from afar and just getting silently and unrightfully irritated when she found another date.”

5:34 pm Parker: “Andddddd where’s the fun in that?”

5:37 pm Cody: “THE FACT THAT IT IS SAFE YOU NIMROD!”

5:43 pm Parker: “It’s still funny that you won’t cuss.”

5:45 pm Cody: “She just snapped me! What do I do? Parker I am scared.” “Parker?” “Parker!”

6:00 pm Parker: “Sorry, Maverick let me have ice cream and I forgot to text back.”

6:02 pm Cody: “ *facepalm* you are no help.”

6:15 pm Parker: “Well, what did it say?”

6:17 pm Cody: “I’m scared to look.”

6:18 pm Parker: “Dude, I’ll tell you what it says. Ready?” “ Hi”

6:20 pm Cody: “SHE WROTE BACK “HI” WHAT DO I SAY???????”

6:21 pm Parker: “You’re sure they invited you to the smart people thing right? Like it wasn’t a mix up?”

6:22 pm Cody: “Parker yes they invited me. I’m so dang smart that I have no idea how to… “my people skills are rusty.””

6:24 pm Parker: “Dude if you don’t stop with the references I am going to send you to a psych ward.”

6:25 pm Cody: “Noted. Okay, I am going to respond.”

6:30 pm Parker: “Good now text me when you have an actual conversation rolling aight?”

Parker put his phone in his pocket and went back to his ice cream cone. At 7:00, he got another text.

7:00 pm Cody: “She… um… she told me she’s going with someone else.”

Now Parker felt bad. The poor kid got rejected, and unlike himself, who bounces back and just moves on, he knew Cody had a tendency to get attached. Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk.

7:01 pm Parker: “Who?”

7:03 pm Cody: “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad she found someone she wants to go with. Well, I’m gonna go on to sleep so I can study some more tomorrow. Night Park.”

7:04 pm Parker: “Sorry dude. Night Cody.”

Now he felt really really bad. He thought for a bit, and then, an idea hit him.

7:23 pm Parker: “I am on my way. Do not do anything stupid like buying more books. You cannot keep any more in your room. There is officially no more space.”

Parker was going to do the one thing he knew cured heartbreak. They were both 21…

When Parker got there, he found Cody halfway through a bag of popcorn watching a romcom.

“Dude… I get that you’re sad but this is just straight tragic.”

Cody sniffled, holding the blanket up to his nose.

“Shush this is all I have now.”

“Nope, not gonna happen. Come on.” Parker picked Cody up and placed him on his feet.

“Why can you not let me cry in peace?”

“Because it’s not how I roll. Now, we’re getting you dressed, and then we’re going to a strip club.”

“But.. but I don’t-”

“Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

Parker had considered inviting Maverick, but he was kinda the rule-stickler type. His grandparents had raised him to be pretty straight-laced.

---- time skip to driving to the club-----

“I really think this is a bad idea.” Cody looked down at his navy button-up and his black pants and dress shoes.

“You’ll be fine. Look, I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Hundreds??”

“Eh, okay maybe tens, but same thing.”

They pulled into the parking lot, and the one thing that went through Cody’s mind is that this was not going to end well.

----- time skip to 3:28 am-----

“Wowwww she was-s right in ma face! Did you see?”

“Yes I saw.” Cody pulled his friend up from the floor of the club.

“Ohh no! Iss time to go ba-back now?”

“It is. Maverick is probably worried about you.”

“Pshhhhhhhh nahhhhh… m’ fin”

“You’re fine?”

“Yeash I’m fineeeeee”

“And here I was thinking I was a lightweight. Alright, out we go.”

“BYE BRITTNEEEEEEEEEE!” Parker’s head lolled to the side as he let Cody handle most of his body weight.

They stumbled to the car, somehow making it in a decent amount of time. Cody opened the passenger side door, and helped Parker slide in.

“Thank you *burp* you’re my bestesetest of frans. I luv you mann.”

Even Cody had to laugh.

“I love you too. Now, in the car. We’re putting your seatbelt on.”

“NO! NO I WON’T BE TAKEN AGAIN! I CAN’T GO BACK *hiccup*”

“Tell it to the judge bub.”

Parker heard the seatbelt click into place and immediately started bawling.

“I *hiccup* am s-so sorry-yee. I did not mean to *hiccup* tell the *hiccup* panda to go *hiccup* f-”

“Okay that’s enough bud. Sleep. We’re headed home.”

“I c-can’t f-feel my eyeballs *hiccup*”

“You aren’t supposed to feel them. They’re just there.”

“BUT HOW DO I KNOW THEY ARE NOT STOLEN????”

Cody took a deep breath and looked down at the clock in the dashboard. They’d be home in ten minutes, maybe less if Parker didn’t stop blubbering. He’d already called Maverick, who had assured Cody he would take care of their drunk friend, but Cody had decided maybe it would be nice to take care of Parker instead of being on his own tonight. Despite everything that happened that night, he still wanted some company.

“Oh jolly good young fellow wherefore art the d- oh! Look at the grass! It’s so green!”

“It’s brown bub. It’s winter.” Cody smiled, pulling into the parking place that he’d been assigned.

Cody smiled, pulling into the parking place that he’d been assigned.

“Welp… I’m bout to turn it *hiccup* green…”

Cody looked over to see Parker’s cheeks puffed out and his chest rolling forward in a heave.

“Hang on! Hang on-” He jumped out of the car and opened the door on Parker’s side. It was just in time. Pure alcohol mixed with some sort of greenish jello shot coated the ground. It splattered onto Cody’s pants, but he didn’t care.

“There ya go. You’re doing great.” He awkwardly rubbed Parker’s back as the boy gagged again, turning to face the grass below once more.

“M’ overdid *gag* it…” Parker started to cry from the exertion.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. Cody’s gotcha.”

Another bout of liquid spattered on the ground, some of it dripping down Parker’s chin. Cody had some napkins put away in the glove compartment, so he reached in and grabbed a couple.

“I *hiccup* unhghh…”

“You done Park?”

“Yeah…”

As if his body were trying to prove that it would not be controlled, he heaved up another round of clear, bubbly liquid.

“M’ done now.”

“Okay, up we go.” Cody wiped Parker’s mouth before slowly helping him up. His friend looked so pitiful, his hair so tousled and sweaty, his skin so pale… he hated to see him feeling so bad, but he had done it to himself.

“Alright, now… we’re going upstairs to my dorm room. If you need to puke, here’s a bag. Tell me to stop walking if we need to.”

Cody knew that was too much information, but it was worth a shot.

By some miracle, they made it to Cody’s room. Cody scanned his entry card, and then helped Parker onto the bed.

He sat next to him, rubbing his arm. Parker was curled up in a tiny half-asleep ball.

*buzz-buzz*

4:35 am Maverick: “Hey, you guys okay? How much did he drink?”

4:37 am Cody: “More than he should have… hey listen um… I was wondering… do you happen to know who’s going to the dinner with Brooklyn? She told me she was going with someone but didn’t say who.”

4:46 am Maverick: “You’re gonna flip out if I tell you.”

As much as that text intrigued him, Parker had partially woken up and had just puked all over himself and the bed.

Cody put his phone on the bedside table and then held Parker up so he wouldn’t choke if he puked again. Which, he did.

“Hnnngh… I feel like s***.”

“I know. You look like crap too.”

“Hhuuurrrrrrrkkk!” A thick, sludgy liquid came up.. It was sort of white and yellow… oh wait. Yeah, Cody would never look at french fries the same after tonight.

“That’s it. Get it up. I’ll fix the bed later.” Cody knew he couldn’t move him yet, so it was just best to get everything out.

After a few more empty, dry retches, Parker was finally done for the moment. Cody made the decision to take him to the bathroom and let him sit next to the toilet while he got some of his extra clothes to put on him.

He heard loud retching, almost obnoxious, from the bathroom. He just took a breath and went on looking for the clothes, knowing that more than likely Parker wouldn’t be done for a while, and probably didn’t register that he was there anyways.

“C-Cody?” A weak whimper filled the silence. Cody was shocked, but immediately grabbed a pair of boxers (which admittedly he felt weird about), pajama pants and a t-shirt, and then went to the bathroom.

He found Cody in a puddle of puke, tears streaming down his face.

“Don feel *hiccup* good…”

Cody felt his heart break.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t feel good. I promise it’ll be over soon.” He had to lie. The poor thing in this confused, overly dazed state couldn’t take the truth that he’d more than likely be puking for the next two days after how much he drank.

Cody got down next to Parker, putting a hand on Parker’s back. His shirt was damp with sweat and vomit. Cody rubbed up and down on his side, watching as Parker curled himself around the toilet.

“You’re gonna be okay Park.”

“S-sorry…” For a moment, Parker almost sounded sober…

“It’s alright, I can clean it up. You’re good.”

“No… the *hiccup* chick…”

Cody had been trying to forget about that.

“It’s not a big deal, really.”

“If I didn’t feel *hiccup* like I was gonna *hiccup* throw my guts up *hiccup* I’d have tried harder…” Parker turned his head back toward the water and puked up a thick stream of alcohol and whatever other fried foods he’d gotten into.

Cody felt bad. He knew Parker had tried, but he felt worse that Parker was sitting here puking and still thinking about that. He was sick. He didn’t need to be worried about that.

“Let’s um… talk about it when you’re sober hm?” Cody smiled sheepishly.

Parker nodded, his mouth opening slightly before gagging again.

“I’m gonna go get the bed ready. Can you stay here for a bit?”

“Mhmmm…” Parker spit a stringy line of saliva into the toilet.

Cody went out, and took the bedspread and pillowcases off. He tried to get as much of the puke off as he could, but hopefully the washing machine could do most of the work. He didn’t have another comforter, so he had to find his best throw blanket and go with that.

He finished making the bed, and then went back to the bathroom.

“Park?”

The boy was asleep on the toilet seat. Cody could feel his heartstrings being pulled one by one. He wet a washcloth and then sat down next to Parker, leaning him back slowly onto his shoulder. Cody then softly wiped his face, noting how sick he looked. Usually Parker was all crazy plans and bold ideas and loud things. It was far different to see him this way. So quiet, weak, and… helpless really.

He continued to clean Parker up, and then got him into fresh clothes. Then he helped him to the bed, and laid him down. This time, he’d put a bucket next to him. Not that it would really make much difference since Parker was probably too drunk to notice it. He pulled the blanket up to Parker’s shoulders, and then went back to the bathroom, cleaning up the rest of the mess.

When he finished, he went back to the couch and fell asleep. He knew he’d need the rest for Parker’s hangover the next morning. Thank goodness today was a Friday so they wouldn’t have school tomorrow.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

#emeto #tw food #OC #Parker #Cody #Maverick #Alcohol #strip club mention

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calypsoff2 · 3 years

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Nine. Part 4

What a mess, I still don’t trust Chris to not go back to attack him. I have my hand on his wrist pulling him along behind me, this has to be done because so much has happened and my mind is just a mess, I need a fucking break. I am happy that this is out, my heart feels lighter anyways. I had to tell my husband this, it was depressing me, depressing us. Chris was feeling it too, I feel better about saying it, but my mind is a mess right now. So much has happened and I just want Mel and TJ out of the house, and I need Chris to not hit anyone else. I disliked him attacking his dad, or even squaring up to him but he is calm now. Taking Chris into the kitchen “don’t you trust me?” He asked half laughing “not at this moment, sit on the bar stool” letting his wrist go, he better just sit his ass down too “ok ma’am” he is calm, that’s what I wanted. Grabbing some paper towels, bunching a few together. Looking over at Chris just to check and he’s sitting down, this is a mess, and I can’t believe how angry he was. The way he was beating TJ, I was a little scared but not totally scared to stop him, but he has a nasty temper, I knew he kind of does. Wetting the paper towels a little and making my way over to Chris “I need to see the girls, I think you need too also” grabbing his hand “what were their faces like” Chris asked, lightly wiping his knuckles from blood “fear, they were so scared. I am not sure what they saw but my mother was supposed to take them upstairs, clearly she didn’t” I sighed out “I feel bad now, just about my daughters. They scared of me now” I shrugged not knowing “I can’t wait to go to Jamaica Chris, I need this. We need this, it’s been too hectic for us” we need a break for our anniversary, no kids just us bring us and rebuild our relationship and just have fun “would you lie for me if I murdered someone? I have a feeling you would actually, the way you are cleaning my hand” I chuckled, he is making me laugh now “truthfully” stopping what I was doing to look at him “it would be a hard decision to make but I would pack up and leave to Barbados with you after telling the police you didn’t do it” Chris cooed out “wow, but I couldn’t let you do that, you have so much going for you” he’s so adorable, I would do that for him.

Rorrey walked into the kitchen “nigga” was the first thing he said as he walked in “my bad” Chris put his head down “nah you’re wild, you fucked him up. I took him to the car, and he said that he forgives you and he’s going to make it up to you and that he fucked up, you’re his brother. I goes stay away, god bless. Go to hospital; but they have gone now. You want me to clean the front yard, there is blood on it” my brother so kindly asked “please” nice of him “Christopher, your dad is upset with you” Joyce came looking all upset and concerned which I don’t blame her because a lot has happened, but we need to concentrate on the big thing which is our kids “I don’t care, I don’t take it back. He got in the way, how is that my fault!? I told him to move, TJ fucked up. He’s the one that messed with my family, I am sick and tired of people trying to ruin us, trying to ruin what I have so good. What would he do if some guy is disrespecting you? Oh nothing because he’s too pussy” placing my hand over his mouth “stop it, seriously. Apologise to your dad, stop it” he can’t say that about his dad “thank you Robyn. Least he listens to someone because clearly he doesn’t listen to us” moving my hand back “he’s hard work but he will apologise” I won’t have him just disrespecting his dad now “I am making a point” Chris looked at me “sometimes people don’t want to hear it, we spoke on it did we not? Just stop” placing my hand on his shoulder, he can be so stubborn “but I am being victimised as the bad guy, like my dad can do no wrong. Shit is wack, I get it mother he’s perfect” sometimes I wish my husband would shut up “ok” I breathed out, he will get over it with his big mouth that won’t stop.

Chris is very moody, and I want him to just relax, he doesn’t need to bite at his parents. Joyce left which left just Chris and I “why are you angry at your dad? What did he do wrong? For stopping you?” I don’t get it, Chris huffed out “just annoys me, he acts like he is perfect. He is holier than though, just shit irritates me, like now. He is upset, for what? You got in the way, if I want to kill a nigga over you then I will, the fuck. If he wasn’t such a broke ass then maybe I wouldn’t have done drugs” I gasped “Chris, don’t say that so loudly, sshhh” he is so loud “just please, can you keep your mouth shut, we need to go and see the girls and explain. These girls aren’t stupid either” Chris got up from the bar stool “where are you going?” he is angered, clearly “I want him gone, I am telling Deja and every motherfucker he is dead to me, I am done. He made you cry, no motherfucker makes you cry, he did it in my home! And spoke on your body, fuck that noise. He is going down” there is really no stopping Chris at this moment, watching him storm off. I am just so fucking done, like I can’t win. He is all angry now, he wants to murder everyone. He wants to hate everyone; I don’t think he will be happy until TJ is in the ground clearly “Robyn” looking up from my hands “yes?” Joyce is back “can you get Chris to apologise to his dad, for me. Clinton is really hurt by him because he was squaring up to his own father. Now he has a vendetta against him, please. I don’t want Clinton to be sad while you both go” she is asking a lot from me, has she seen Chris “I will try” I mumbled “maybe keeping it to yourself may have been best, if you know my son so much then you knew he would be this temperamental, he is hurting because he failed you. He is obsessed with you, and you gave him the direction, which was violence but thank you” my mouth hung open, not sure how to feel about what was said but I will shrug it off.

I did check on Chris, I just wanted to see what he was doing, he is in the office cancelling TJ on everything so let me check on my girls. Chris isn’t interested because he is angry at that right now, I am just stumped on what to say or even do because the girls saw, they saw their dad banging and breaking, swearing and beating Camron dad up so this will be hard. I can hear them shouting, they are playing. I am sure Rajad is with them, I know my mom was slow on the uptake with making sure they were upstairs, I am annoyed at that because they did not need to see that of their dad. Pushing open the door “mom!” Rylee said out of breath, she ran at me and hugged my waist “are you ok mom?” Tianna joined her “why wouldn’t I be ok girls, let’s go inside. Thanks Rajad” he just waved smiling “she is asleep?” I pointed at Imani “cried so much she fell asleep, shall I go?” nodding my head walking inside with two girls stuck to my hip “thanks though” he waved me off “but she kind of just fell asleep now” nodding my head, my poor Imani. I heard her from upstairs crying, I wanted to come here but also wanted to make sure Chris was ok, I was stuck between them. But I knew my family would have them, Chris needed me to stop him.

These girls of mine, they are so concerned “please sit down, one at a time now. It’s ok honestly” they just want to know “Uncle wouldn’t let us come downstairs, are you ok mom? Rylee and I tried to come and help” I chuckled, I bet they did “I didn’t need help, neither did your dad” they don’t believe “but why? Dad was being nasty to Camron dad mom, why? He was bleeding” this is bad, I really didn’t want them to see that “I know” I breathed “girls, sometimes people are mean and then the person they are being mean too get angry, what dad did was not good. We don’t fight people now, so please don’t do that. What dad did was naughty, I told him off for it because that is not nice. If you someone is upsetting you then you talk about it, fighting is no good. Dad was upset, Camron dad is ok. He is ok don’t worry; he is not hurt” I am lying out of my ass “did you tell dad off mom? When we bad you tell us off” I nodded my head “of course I did, he won’t do it again. It was not nice what you saw” I don’t blame them for being sad “Imani screamed and cried so much; she is so sad. Did dad make you happy? I told him to do it, you look happy” I chuckled “I am always happy girls, stop being silly now” these two are a problem when they are older, I won’t be able to roll my eyes without them knowing “we need to speak to dad?” I mean I would, but he is not happy “you said he is ok?” I did say that “erm, why not” I said through gritted teeth.

I put Imani in her bed so she is safe in there, she will come down when she wakes up but the girls want to see Chris even though Chris right now is in his zone, he is not happy but he better put a smile on his face “you go first” Rylee said turning to me and Tianna did the same, I don’t want that from them, this is their father. Yes he lost his temper, but he isn’t bad, opening the office door “wait Robyn, I am just doing something. Before you speak” frowning at him “put the phone down, seriously. Rylee and Tianna want to see you” eyeballing him “ok?” Chris put the phone down “oh yeah why?” moving to the side “you go first Ti” Rylee pushed her forward “you come too” they are being so silly towards him now “hey girls” Chris smiled “hi dad” they are looking around the office “the girls want to see you and tell you how naughty it is to lose your temper” Chris nodded his head slowly, closing the door “oh yeah, no your mom is right. I am sorry” Chris got up from the chair “I am so sorry I lost my temper; I hate hearing when people are being mean, I dislike it a lot and I didn’t mean too and I promise to not do it again” Chris went over to them “but dad it wasn’t nice, you weren’t being dad. You made Imani cry a lot, we didn’t like it. You never get that angry, it was scary like monster scary” Rylee explained “you made uncle bleed” Chris cringed, word uncle “yes I know, and it will be fixed” crossing my arms across my chest just letting them speak “what about Camron? His dad kept saying sorry” oh they want answers “Camron is fine, this is adult conversation kids, it got out of hand. We will be friends ok? I am so sorry, and I won’t do that again” will my girls accept that “mommy was scared too, we didn’t like it” Rylee said in a whisper “at all” Tianna added, Chris feels bad “I am sorry” he said “can I have a hug, daddy is really feeling bad now” Rylee and Tianna both looked at each other “yes” Tianna agreed to a hug.

The girls accepted Chris’ hug and apology which I am glad to see “girls, I need to speak to dad now, but I want to say that we are going away today, and I just want you to be good for Momo, you know she don’t play like that. You can’t go to VA, stop asking. My mother told me, you will stay here” Tianna laughed, she is so cheeky. She asked to go to VA with Chris’ parents like my mother is bad “I guess, why can’t we go with you” I chuckled “we need a damn break, but we will be back, me and your dad have been married for a while now, I think I am getting bored of him but anyways. Let me speak to your dad. We will see you both soon, love you” they seem ok, I know my pumpkin is sad so she will be next “ask Momo if she will let us stay up” Rylee asked Tianna as they left the room, Chris and I watched them close the door “my daughters really don’t play but I feel really bad about exposing that side to me, you know. They didn’t deserve to see it” nodding my head agreeing “which brings me to what I am going to say, Joyce wants you to apologise to your dad, but your mom was being a little sly. I don’t know, I rather just say it to you but please don’t kick off, I think everything is high emotions, but she said I should have kept it to myself, and it would be the best option, that if I knew you so much then I would know you would be this temperamental, you are hurting because you failed me. You are obsessed with me, and I gave you the direction, which was violence. I don’t know what to say but I wanted to mention it to you, without you kicking off” I just don’t know why that came about, it’s crazy “that’s really low, she knows why I did it but coming at you. My dad is grown, he can say sorry to me for squaring up to me, Robyn I didn’t do it first. I am your husband, you know me. He did it to me, making me backdown, shit ain’t perfect with them two. I can’t be bothered, now I am annoyed she said that to you” oh boy, now he is not happy because of that.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Chrianna fanfic #Chrianna Fanfic #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 32: Martin

They’re right. Jon Prime can’t see the colors of fear like Tim can. It’s something between a shock and a relief to all of them, but especially to Jon. Less pleasing is the news that, apparently, the one in the Institute who can see marks is Jonah, although Jon Prime admits he doesn’t know how he sees them, or even if he actually sees them or just Knows they’re there.

Tim gets very dramatic about this, but Martin suspects it really does bother him more than a little.

They won’t let Tim push himself to experiment, but he does a couple of carefully controlled and supervised peeks at objects and statements. Martin and Martin Prime are both extremely vocal and vehement in their opposition to him going up to Artifact Storage to have a look around, and even Sasha agrees it would be a really terrible idea. Jon makes it unanimous by declaring that Tim has met his quota of bad decisions for the year and begun borrowing against the next. Tim gives in gracefully enough.

He cheers up some when the first Sunday in Advent passes—not that any of them are churchgoers, but it’s a convenient way to mark the start of the season—and they’re able to decorate their house for Christmas. Martin hasn’t celebrated, really, since his grandfather died, and Jon even longer ago than that, but it’s hard not to join in with Tim’s enthusiasm. Jon finds a sprig of mistletoe and hangs it over the door; Sasha teases him about it, then evidently regrets it when it touches off a mini-lecture about its history as a protective plant to ward off witches and demons.

Martin finds himself staring at it every time they pass through the front door. It’s just a silly superstition, of course, but if he thought it would work, he’d deck out every door and window in the place. From the fact that he comes back from lunch one day and sees Tim with a search page called up for protective plants and charms, he suspects he’s not alone in that.

As the calendar goes over into December, they’re all beginning to relax somewhat. Jon is less neurotic; Sasha is less secretive and a bit more open about what she’s doing (emphasis on a bit). Martin is able to keep himself from overcompensating for his shortcomings (or, as Jon insists on referring to them, perceived shortcomings), and Tim hasn’t done anything catastrophically stupid in three weeks. Even the Primes seem more relaxed. Jon Prime is getting progressively stronger; he still says he has trouble thinking down in the tunnels, but he’s able to move around without needing to sleep for two days afterward. Martin Prime seems less worried about him, seems being the operative term. Martin knows it can’t last, but he hopes they’ll at least get through the new year before they have to start really worrying about fears and monsters and cops and bosses.

He should really know better by now.

Martin assumes the footsteps on the stairs belong to Tim or Sasha. He cut his lunch a bit short because he was expecting a callback regarding a statement follow-up, which he’s just ended, and he assumes it took longer than he anticipated. He looks up, ready to pass on the information, but the words dry up in his throat at the sight of the person striding towards him. Solid, with well-defined muscles and a blonde crew cut, the woman looks a good deal like the description of the assassin in the Jeffrey Archer book he did his last school report on, but despite being in plainclothes, she screams cop. This, then, must be Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, and Martin has no idea why she’s here.

Her eyes narrow when she spots Martin, and he shrinks back instinctively from the intensity in her eyes before he gets a hold on himself. He hasn’t, he reminds himself, done anything wrong. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his voice only squeaking a little.

“You’re Martin Blackwood?” she demands.

“Y-yes?”

“The Martin Blackwood?”

If this were any other situation, Martin might respond with a paraphrase of that line from one of the Hitchhiker’s Guide books, he can’t remember if it’s the second or third off the top of his head: No, just a Martin Blackwood, don’t you know I come in six packs? That, however, would be tantamount to suicide. Then he remembers that the Primes got pulled over. “I’m the Martin Blackwood that works in the Institute, yes. Can I help you?”

Daisy—it’s impossible to think of her as anything else—eyeballs him, then grunts. “Detective Daisy Tonner. I need to talk to the Head Archivist.”

“Yep. Of course. Right this way.” Martin jumps to his feet, nearly toppling his chair over backwards, and starts towards Jon’s office. “Uh, can I get you a…cup of tea or…?”

“I’m fine,” Daisy growls.

The small, furry mammal of Martin’s inner being flattens its ears and crouches in the grass, desperately hoping to avoid being seen, and Martin swallows hard. “R-right. Um. This way.”

He leads Daisy over to Jon’s office door and opens it cautiously. He’s pretty sure Jon isn’t recording, at least not on the tape recorder, but he’s usually careful anyway, especially since none of them knock anymore; Jon’s asked them to stop and they’ve decided, collectively, not to ask questions. Yet.

Jon looks up from the spread of papers on his desk and smiles, but it fades quickly. Martin can only imagine what his face must look like. “Martin. Is everything all right?”

“There’s a Detective Tonner here to see you,” Martin answers.

He is in complete agreement with whatever emotion Jon’s face is attempting to convey as he shuts the folder and shoves the papers aside. “Ah…send her in.”

“Okay. I’m, um, there’s something I need to run down,” Martin says. “U-unless you need me to stick around.”

Jon seems to understand. Of course he does. “No, I should be all right.” He doesn’t sound completely sure. “Make certain your phone is on you, though.”

Martin doesn’t bother pointing out that the tunnels don’t get service. “Right.” He steps out and nods to Daisy. “You can go in.”

Daisy doesn’t thank him, just pushes past him and shuts the door. Martin stands still for a moment, trying to shake the creeping feeling of dread, then turns and heads for the trapdoor leading to the tunnels.

Something I need to run down. Jon told Martin, after Melanie’s visit, that he liked that as a code phrase for ducking into the tunnels, so they’ve all been using it lately. Usually it’s to ask the Primes a question or clarify something, sometimes just to check up on them and see if they need anything. Jon and Sasha are taking it in turns to map out the tunnels, too—they’ve almost finished the first level. Maybe. Tim and Martin, on the other hand, occasionally go down just to get some relief from the constant pressure of the Eye.

It’s interesting, Martin thinks as he clicks on his torch and descends the steps, how differently they react to the tunnels, or more specifically to the effect of the tunnels on them. Tim embraces it, and Martin suspects he would spend all his time down there if he thought he could get away with it, but he usually goes down at least once a day, if only for a few minutes. Sasha finds it kind of exciting, not being able to just ferret out the tunnel’s secrets easily, but the problem is that she’s addicted to the mystery of it. Jon is in a weird place; on the one hand, he also wants to know everything about the tunnels that he can, but on the other, he’s already starting to get to a point where if he stays down for too long, he winds up drained and shaky. Both he and Sasha are under strict injunctions not to spend more than an hour a day in the tunnels, and privately, Martin thinks that might be too long for both of them.

And Martin? He’s in a weird place, too. He does like the comfort of not being constantly watched, and of knowing that he can ask people how they’re feeling and know he won’t accidentally compel them to answer, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the two places in the world he feels completely safe and relaxed (his mind skips away from actually acknowledging what the other place is). At the same time, though, he feels…guilty. Like he’s abandoning someone who’s depending on him.

With a sigh, he leans against the wall of the tunnel for just a moment, then straightens up and heads down to the Primes’ “room”. The door is open, and Martin can just faintly hear Jon Prime’s voice. It’s too low to make out the words, but when he cautiously pokes his head around the doorframe, he sees the Primes sitting up against the wall of the room, their battery-operated camping lantern lit and casting a soft golden glow over the pair of them. Martin Prime’s head rests on Jon Prime’s lap, and Jon Prime absently tangles the fingers of one hand through his curls. In his other hand he holds a book, and he’s reading aloud in a low, soothing voice. Martin almost wants to duck back out again, sit on the floor outside the room, and just listen for a little while.

But Jon Prime glances up as he turns a page, sees him, and makes a small noise of surprise. “Martin. I didn’t see you there. Is everything all right?”

“M-maybe?” Martin feels his cheeks go hot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I—”

“It’s fine,” Jon Prime assures him. He keeps his voice low, and Martin wonders if Martin Prime is asleep. “Come on in. What time is it?”

Martin points his torch at his wristwatch, just to be sure. “Almost one in the afternoon. I just—it’s maybe not an emergency. I can come back—”

“Sit.” Jon Prime sets the book aside and glances down at Martin Prime. “How are you, love?”

“I’m fine. It’s fading fast,” Martin Prime replies. He starts to sit up, but Jon Prime stops him with a hand to the chest. “Jon…”

“Relax. Rest. You don’t need to—you’re fine.” Jon Prime looks up at Martin. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, ‘course not.” Martin comes into the room and automatically makes sure he doesn’t shine the torch in Martin Prime’s eyes. “I just…I just wanted to let you know, I guess. Daisy just turned up.”

Jon Prime sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, God.”

“She’s just here to deliver the next tape, though, right?” Martin asks. Anxiety suddenly grips him. He shouldn’t have left the Archives, no matter what Jon said. “She won’t hurt him, will she?”

“N-no.” Jon Prime doesn’t sound too sure. “She didn’t hurt me this time around…not physically. But…in theory, yes, she’s just dropping off the next tape. I accidentally compelled a statement out of her—I hadn’t yet learned I could do that—and made her rather angry, but…well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.” He takes a deep breath. “Then again, she did encounter us. Who knows what she’s thinking.”

“Christ, I should’ve stayed up there. I-if Jon’s going to—God, he’s going to be exhausted after, and none of us are there to cut the statement.” Martin sucks in a breath. “And he’s alone, if she does anything—I’ve got to get back up there.”

“Go easy,” Martin Prime cautions him. “And don’t break the door to his office down. She might…you won’t be the one she takes it out on.”

Martin takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Um, d-do you two need anything?”

“Some paracetamol, maybe?” Jon Prime asks. “We’re getting low.”

Martin winces and glances at Martin Prime. “Migraines?”

“Mm-hmm. Hadn’t had one in a while. I kind of thought I outgrew them, but…” Martin Prime gestures vaguely at his head. “Been bad for the last week or so.”

“I’ll be back later with some aspirin,” Martin promises. “Works better for migraines. M-maybe some of that ginger tea, too? We’ve got a ton of it.”

“Thank you,” Martin Prime says with a soft smile. “Be careful.”

Martin hums in agreement, then heads back to the stairs.

By his watch, it’s been no more than five, ten minutes since he came down into the tunnels—not nearly enough time for Jon to take Daisy’s statement, and Tim and Sasha probably won’t even be back yet. He climbs the stairs, head bowed in thought, pushes the trapdoor open, and steps out into the Archives.

And flinches.

Elias—Jonah—stands next to Martin’s desk, hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting. His piercing grey eyes are fixed on Martin as he stands, half-in and half-out of the tunnel.

“Martin,” he says calmly. “I wondered where everyone was. Surely you don’t all go to lunch at the same time—have you been exploring the tunnels on Institute time?”

Martin panics slightly. He swallows hard, and he knows his knees are shaking as he climbs out and lets the trapdoor close behind him. “I-I came back from lunch a bit early to take a phone call. Jon told me t-to go ahead and take the rest of it once the call was done.”

“In the tunnels?”

Martin swallows hard. He’s usually fairly good at coming up with a plausible lie to cover something he shouldn’t do, or at least of distracting people from the fact that he needs to lie. But somehow, he doesn’t think he’ll manage it. Not completely.

“I’ve—I’ve been putting some things together,” he says. He manages to take a step closer, then another, until he’s by his desk and not far from Elias. Definitely closer than he wants to be, but it seems important that he do it like this. “Making connections.”

“Have you now,” Elias says blandly.

Martin takes a deep breath. He’s got to give Elias just enough of the truth to make it plausible, but not let on how much he knows, and most importantly, he can’t let Elias know the others know, too. “I’ve been thinking about the statements. One in particular. That woman who ran into Gerard Keay and the—the burn victim. There’s something he said to her, something I can’t stop thinking about—‘For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.’ I wondered what that meant, and—and then I started thinking. You know, I-I feel like—we all feel like—we’re being watched a lot down here, a-and I know it’s not CCTV or anything because there aren’t any cameras down here, but that’s what it feels like—like someone’s peering over our shoulders all the time. And that statement had a lot of eyes in it, you know? There was even an eye pressed up against the camera for just a minute on the footage we looked at.” He swallows hard. “When I go down in the tunnels—I don’t feel that. I can think down there, because I don’t feel like someone’s looking at my thoughts a-and judging them. It’s not just the woman’s imagination, o-or a crazy delusion. There is something that watches us. It might even be called the Beholding. A-at least, that’s what I’ve been calling it. And it’s here. I think it’s watching the Institute. All the time.”

There’s a brief silence, during which Martin swears he can almost hear the Eye blinking. It’s fond of you, Martin Prime said, way back in the beginning of all this, and Martin desperately hopes that’s true. Or at least that it’s fond enough of him to keep Elias from knowing how much he’s withholding. Then, suddenly, he realizes that’s going about it the wrong way and starts instead hoping that the Eye is curious enough about how this interaction will play out to keep Elias from knowing how aware the Archives team is.

“That’s very clever of you, Martin,” Elias says after what’s probably no more than a second, but feels like an eternity. “How long have you known all this?”

Not thought you’ve known, Martin notes. Known. Interesting. And frightening. “A while. At least since the Jane Prentiss attack. I-I was alone a lot, I had time to think, so…I did.”

Elias hums slightly. “I see. And what are you going to do about it, exactly?”

“Wh-what? I mean…” Martin flounders slightly and casts an involuntary glance in the direction of Jon’s firmly shut office door. “I-it’s not like I can—what do you mean?”

“I mean, Martin, do you intend to keep this knowledge to yourself?” Elias lifts an eyebrow. “Or do you plan to tell Jon?”

Sadly, there’s no right answer to this question. Martin tries to summon up his train of thought from back when Martin Prime first started telling him about all this. What would he have done if the Primes hadn’t been there to tell Jon? “I—I have to. He gets upset when we keep things from him, a-and he’s paranoid enough as it is, so if he thinks I’m keeping secrets…I promised I wouldn’t anymore. W-we all did.”

“Of course.” Elias’ voice drips with soothing insincerity and makes Martin’s skin crawl. “Will he believe you, though?”

“I’ve got—I can show him the connections I made,” Martin says. “He can be a bit skeptical sometimes, but he’s not stupid. A-and we’ve all seen enough, done enough, between Jane Prentiss and the couple of things we’ve been able to verify and—I at least have to try.” He swallows. “I don’t think he’ll be skeptical about this.”

“No,” Elias agrees, which surprises Martin. “I don’t suppose he will. And I’m sure your evidence is very convincing. But what will you do if he doesn’t believe you?”

Martin licks his lips and tries to shrug. “Protect him, I guess. As best as I can. If I’m right, he’ll find out the truth eventually on his own.”

“Oh, you are.” Elias’ frank admission makes the breath catch in Martin’s throat. He expected Elias to prevaricate, or attempt to convince him he was imagining things, but…no, no, this is definitely more frightening. “You’re absolutely right, Martin. And I’m sure, as smart as you are, that you’ve gone over a number of other statements beyond Ms.—Saraki’s, was it?—and found even more connections to support your theory, so you know this goes well beyond the Institute.”

“I-I…yes?” The more Elias agrees with him, or seems to praise him, the more frightened Martin gets. Which is probably the point.

“Mm. I wonder, though, if you really understand the implications of what you’ve discovered. There is so much more to this than you realize, Martin, and I wonder if you realize how harmful telling Jon would be.”

“Why? Because he’ll ask the wrong questions?” Martin asks before he thinks about it. “If Jon—he won’t quit or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not now. He’ll, he’ll look into things, start investigating. If I don’t have answers for him, he’ll try to find them on his own—that’s not a bad thing. What do you think will happen if I do?”

Elias jerks his head back slightly a split second before Martin tastes the static on his tongue and realizes what just happened. He tries not to let it show on his face. He’s fairly certain he isn’t supposed to know about that, and there’s no reason anyone would suspect that the Beholding gave them spooky knowing powers. Certainly he’s not supposed to have them. Hopefully his reaction doesn’t show on his face.

It doesn’t seem to. Elias gathers himself quickly. “You’re getting emotional, Martin. Just calm down.”

Martin isn’t sure if he’s relieved or alarmed that Elias seems able to resist his compelling. Then again, he’s not all that powerful. “I’m not emotional! I-I’m just—I was asking.”

“Of course Jon will try to find answers. But please understand that some of those answers…may not be in his best interest. Or yours, for that matter.” Elias leans slightly forward and meets Martin’s eyes. “Allow me to give you an example.”

Martin can’t stop the frightened gasp that rips itself from his throat as Jonah’s—there’s no denying in this instant that they belong to Jonah Magnus—eyes bore into Martin’s. The world seems to go black and white with a green wash and fill with static, and the thoughts fill his mind, thoughts and sights and memories not his own—

Her name on his lips is almost like a curse, and she lets one of her own fall as she sets aside the can and looks into those eyes, and she needs no prompting from the Eye to know what he has come to do. Even as they talk, as they both try to taunt each other and figure out who has the upper hand, she reaches into her pocket and fishes out the lighter, Gerard’s lighter—she never should have left the boy behind, but maybe it’s better this way—flicks it on. One little spark, and it will all end for him. But he reaches into his own pocket, pulls out a dark and ominous object, primes it, aims it at her. It comes to this, to which of them can ignite faster. She dares him to do it. He fires. She feels the impact, gasps and collapses, and for a moment, she wishes she had made other choices, she wishes—but no. She is dying, but in all she has done, she has kept safe that which she swore to keep safe. Still. She thought it would hurt more.

—and the color rushes back to the Archives, all the grey sucking into Jonah’s eyes as he blinks and straightens back up, adjusting his suit jacket with an imperious tug. Martin is pressed back against his desk, clutching it behind him with both hands and barely keeping from crumpling to the floor. His face is wet and his breath coming in short pants and gasps, and he realizes he’s sobbing, not sure if it’s with sorrow or fear. Maybe it’s both.

“Knowledge can be dangerous, Martin,” Elias says, as calmly as if he hasn’t just made Martin experience the death of a fiery old woman from inside her own head, at the hands of the man in front of him. “Do keep that in mind.” He turns to walk away, then pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Oh—and I would be cautious who I shared that knowledge with, if I were you. Jon isn’t the only one who would require proof, and I rather think Detective Tonner might have cause to suspect you had…ulterior motives in making such a wild and bold claim without evidence to back it up.” With that, he strides out of the Archives.

He passes Sasha coming in on his way out, or at least Martin’s pretty sure it’s Sasha; all he can see right now is a blur as he tries without success to get his sobbing under control. It’s definitely Sasha’s voice that speaks next, sounding worried. “Martin?”

“I—I’ll be right back,” Martin manages to choke out. He turns and bolts blindly from the Archives in the direction of the washroom. Once there, he locks himself in and slides down to the floor, buries his face in his arms, and cries.

It’s one thing to know Elias Bouchard murdered Gertrude Robinson. It’s another thing to experience it, to feel her dying moments imprint on him—what she felt in the moments leading up to it. And now he knows what it feels like to be shot, wonders if it felt like that for Martin Prime. God, he hopes he never has to deal with that again.

He takes a deep, shaking breath as the sobbing finally subsides and wipes at his face, then gets up to wash the tears and snot off. Once he’s done, he studies himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are reddened, his skin bears the too-shiny look of being freshly scrubbed, but it’s the best he can do. Hopefully it’ll be enough. He takes a deep breath and heads back into the Archives.

He gets there just as the door to the main corridor slams, making him jump. From the fact that Jon is frozen halfway across the Archives and Tim is over by their desks with Sasha, Martin guesses it’s Daisy leaving. Jon sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then turns and freezes. “Martin! Are you all right?”

Tim turns, his face creased in concern, and takes a step towards him with his arms already stretching out, but Martin shakes his head quickly. “Don’t—not right now. Please.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want a hug. He does, desperately. After what he’s been through, he can admit what he shied away from when he first went down to the tunnels—that the safest place in the world is in Tim and Jon’s arms. But he also knows that if he gives in and lets either of them touch him right now, he’ll fall apart. He’s just managed to get himself back together, and they still have half a day to get through, somehow.

Sasha holds out a mug—his mug, or at least the one he usually uses, the cobalt blue one with the raised pattern that looks like a cable-knit sweater, which happens to match the one he’s wearing today—brimming with tea. Martin accepts it with quiet thanks, then manages to sit down before he falls over. Tim pulls out his chair, turns it around, and straddles it, resting his chin on the back; Sasha sits down at her own desk, but doesn’t fire up her laptop yet. Jon hovers nearby, his face creased with anxiety and exhaustion in equal parts. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Martin lies. He’s never felt less fine in his life, but he’s also not sure Elias isn’t listening; even if he’s not lurking right outside the Archives, he could be watching Martin, waiting to see how he’s going to bring up his “theories”. “I was—exploring the tunnels. While you were talking to Detective Tonner. Sorry for sneaking around on you.”

Jon looks confused for a split second, then suddenly seems to understand. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t been down there myself. We all have. In fact, I think we’d best just leave the trapdoor unlocked in the future. I’d like to have a complete map of it anyway. But please, all three of you—don’t go down alone. Certainly not without telling anyone. Take a companion if you feel the need to explore.” He slides off Martin’s desk. “Tell you what. Why don’t we all go down there right now? There’s nothing going on at the moment. We’ll take an hour and look around a bit. Together.”

Sasha grabs a piece of paper, writes BACK IN 60 MINUTES on it, folds it into a tent, and leaves it up on their desks, then gives Jon a charming smile. “Just in case Elias comes down to visit.”

“Right. Bring your tea, Martin, come on.” Jon strides briskly over to the trapdoor, which Martin didn’t lock when he came out.

Tea. Martin opens his desk drawer and pulls out the bottle of aspirin he keeps there, slips it into his pocket, and grabs the box of ginger tea off their station before following the others down into the tunnels. Tim waits for him at the foot of the stairs, makes like he’s going to put his hand on Martin’s back, then evidently remembers his earlier request and instead takes the box of tea out of his hands. Martin nods gratefully.

The door to the Primes’ room is still open. Jon pokes his head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t want to wait until after hours.”

“Two visits in a single day. I’m honored,” Jon Prime says dryly. He’s smirking a little, but his expression falls when he sees Martin come in the room. “I am now concerned.”

Tim hands over the box of ginger tea. “That makes…four of us. Five if Martin Prime there wants to join in the concern.”

“Sure. I love worrying,” Martin Prime says, his head still resting in Jon Prime’s lap. “I’m guessing it’s not your Jon we’re worrying about? Unless he’s more upset by Daisy’s statement than you were.”

“No, it’s Martin,” Sasha replies. “I came back from lunch just as Elias was leaving and Martin was—” She catches herself.

“Having a bit of a breakdown,” Martin replies softly.

“Oh, God. Already?” Martin Prime sits up abruptly, then winces, evidently regretting it.

“Have a seat. All of you,” Jon Prime instructs. He studies Martin in obvious concern. “What did he say to you?”

Martin pulls the aspirin out of his pocket and shakes it once before handing it to Jon Prime. “It’s…I don’t know where to start. He was waiting for me when I got out of the tunnels.”

Haltingly, clutching his tea in both hands and staring into its depths, he tells the others the whole story—Elias’ questions, his own half-truths. Sasha’s eyes brighten when he mentions accidentally attempting to compel Elias, and she turns to Jon Prime, whose lips are set in a thin line. He shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Sasha, but it won’t work. He’s strong enough to resist you. I tried, once, with all the force I have…he answered me, but only because he wanted to.”

“So it’s like Zone of Truth? He can choose to fail the saving throw automatically?” Tim frowns. “That’s unfair.”

“Well, he’s had two hundred years to practice, Tim.” Jon Prime turns back to Martin, and his expression is grim. “I don’t imagine he was pleased with that. What did he say about that?”

“He didn’t mention it,” Martin replies. “I—I think I managed to not let on that I realized I’d done it? He just told me to calm down. Th-then he said…he said there were some answers that may not be in our best interest, and…” He takes a deep breath. “He showed me Gertrude’s death.”

“He what?” both Jons shout in unison.

Tim lets out a string of Italian hot enough to blister paint and starts to stand. Sasha grabs his pant leg and tugs him back down, but even she looks pale in the lantern light. “Showed you. How? Put the pictures in your head?”

“Not pictures. More than video, too. It was like…like VR, o-or—I don’t know how to explain it.” Martin’s voice shakes, and he has to set the tea mug down before he breaks it. “I-it was like I was Gertrude Robinson. I-I could, I could feel what she was feeling, I had her thoughts, a-and I was listening to her talking with Elias—with Jonah—a-and then he…she had a lighter, I think she was going to burn the Archives down, and he had a gun, and she was telling him to shoot her or leave her alone, so he did.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes tightly. “‘Thought it would hurt more,’” he murmurs.

Martin Prime rubs his chest absently. “She must have a higher pain tolerance than I do.”

“It wasn’t physical pain she was talking about,” Martin says. Something clicks into place and he knows it with a certainty he’s felt about precious little else in his life. “It was the emotional pain, the knowledge that she was dying, that her plan failed. That the Fears were still out there and Jonah’s plan could still succeed.” A stabbing headache, not quite a migraine but similar in intensity, hits him directly between the eyes, and he closes his eyes, rubbing at the spot.

“Christ, Martin,” Tim breathes. “Will you take that damn hug now?”

“Y-yeah.”Martin manages a smile as he opens his eyes again and Tim’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him close. Jon reaches over and grips his hand hard; Sasha rests a hand on his other arm.

“God.” Jon Prime looks shaken. He clutches Martin Prime’s hand like a lifeline. “I-I always just assumed…”

Martin shakes his head slightly. “From what I could feel, she was—there were some regrets, but I don’t think actually dying upset her all that much, and I think that kind of surprised her.” He sighs. “Not that I was doing all that great. A-and then it all stopped, and I just…I’m pretty sure I was crying before all that, but I hadn’t noticed. Elias told me that ‘knowledge can be dangerous’, and then said I should be careful about who I shared the knowledge he’d just given me with.”

Tim tenses, but Martin Prime just sighs. “In other words, he thought your first instinct would be to tell Daisy he killed Gertrude. Only there’s no proof for that, so she would have assumed you were covering up for Jon.”

“She said they know I didn’t do it,” Jon murmurs. “They got the CCTV footage cleaned up…”

“Then she’d have blamed me,” Martin says softly. “Not that I would have told her anyway. I’m not stupid. But—”

“But he knew that,” Sasha completes. “I bet he was trying to convince you to tell her. Put the idea in your head. Maybe he thought you’d do it to prove him wrong…”

“And then either you or Jon would get arrested,” Tim says harshly. “Or worse.”

“Probably worse,” Martin Prime agrees. “He—” He suddenly freezes, his spine stiffening. “Oh.”

“Oh? What ‘oh’? I don’t like that ‘oh.’” Tension creeps into Tim’s voice.

“Tim, have you—looked at anyone on the team?”

“L—wh—no,” Tim sputters. “You mean with my—? No! I promised I wouldn’t—a-and that’s, that’s invasive, I don’t—why would I do that?”

“Because I’m wondering how many marks you all have. Separately and individually.” Martin Prime takes a deep breath. “If Jonah knows your Martin is developing powers…”

“No,” Jon Prime breathes. “No, he—he wouldn’t, it won’t—it wouldn’t work that way.” He pauses. “Would it?”

“If they’re all reading statements? Why wouldn’t it?”

Martin feels the other three draw closer to him, all of them managing to huddle in a group together. It’s Jon who finally asks, his voice full of trepidation, “Why wouldn’t what work?”

Dread runs down Martin’s spine as Martin Prime seems to meet each of their eyes, despite his blindness. “If you all have roughly the same number of marks, and you’re all developing powers from the Eye…Jonah might be considering whether or not he has to actually use your Jon for his ritual. Or if he could use one of you instead.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #emotional cruelty cw #mind manipulation cw #canon-typical Elias Bouchard asshattery

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lukesmachete · 3 years

Note

Favorite 3 lines from the series?

There’s too many favourites for me so here’s a few faves from each season

* = convo

S1:

Lilly: Everyone was happy to have me distributing the food when there was enough to go around, but now that it’s running out, suddenly I’m a goddamn Nazi!

*Duck: Daddy says it’s called a salt lick.

Clem: Yeah, but don’t lick it. It’s gross.

Lee: Did you lick it?

Clem: …I don’t know.*

*Lee: I was on my way to prison three months ago.

Kenny: No shit. It wasn’t for touching kids, was it?*

*Kenny: No fucking way! THE INVALIDS?!?

Omid: Their actions, uh, contradict your characterization, but, yeah, the invalids.*

*Omid: If I were you I’d been scared shitless.

Lee: If you were me you’d be a foot taller.

Omid: Hey!

Lee: And about fifty pounds heavier. You, uh, wouldn’t get scared as much.

Omid: With your arm and my leg, I’ll cripple fight you right here, buddy.*

S2:

Clem: I am still. NOT. Bitten. I never was. And you left me out here to die.

*Clem: What am I, a monkey?

Luke: Hey, you said it, not me.*

Luke: Cause I don’t know a dog bite from a mosquito bite from a lurker bite, man.

Kenn: What? No speaka de English?

*Kenny: Supposed to be a big camp up near Michigan.

Nick: Michigan?

Kenny: You got a hearing problem, kid? Yeah, Michigan. Think about it. Fresh water, lots of land and cold ass winters so the walkers get slow.

Nick: Sounds like bullshit.

Kenny: Listen, Vanilla Ice, I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re more than welcome to take off in the morning.

Nick: Well that’d be just fine by me.

Kenny: What’s the deal with these guys, Clem?

Nick: Hey fuck you, buddy.

Luke: It’s fine Nick. We’re not stayin.*

S3:

Javi: No, David! This cousin-fucking dirtbag has the balls to accuse me? He and Badger destroyed an entire town!

Javi: Yeah, what can I say? I fuckin love pudding.

*Gabe: I’m done feeling this way. Feeling… powerless. I can’t be some helpless little boy anymore — I need to be a man. Just like my dad was. He knew how men were supposed to act.

Javi: You’re already a man Gabe.

Gabe: I’m not. But at least I know it now. Next time, I’m not gonna sit back and watch. I’m gonna do something. I have to.*

Javi: Please, God let there be candy bars.

Javi: I hope you choke on your fucking cake.

*Clem: I’m really gonna miss Gabe — I mean, he’s super annoying sometimes, but… I’ve gotten used to having him around. At least someone to talk to.

Javi: Not that he said anything to me in particular, but you know the guy’s got a mondo crush on you, right?

Clem: Agh! He does not!

Javi: Oh my gosh you have a crush on him too!

Clem: I do not!

Javi: Ah, you both have my blessing.

Clem: I’m gonna stab you with those scissors.*

S4:

Louis: Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my daaaaaarling Clementine. You are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry Clementine. Light she was and like a fairy, and her shoes were number nine. Herring boxes without topses, sandals were for Clementine.

Louis: Hey, ugly! No, not you. Not you either. Him! Fine. Make this confusing, why don’t you? Hey, look! Got your nose! Got your nose! I’m just fucking with you, you have no nose. Just a rotten hole in your face. All right, someone guess the song. Ready? Nobody? Listen again. Nothing? Really? One more time. No, it’s not “ungghhh”. It’s Jingle Bells! How about this one? Really? Nobody knows that one? You guys are killing me! Bet you can’t grab the chair leg. Bet you can’t grab it! Whoop whoop! Too slow! Haha! You suck! Yes, you do. Your turn. Oh man! WAY too slow! It’s like your muscle tissue is deteriorating or something. What’s that? It is? Oh, I’m so sorry. I hate to break it to you, sir, but I think your eyeball just fell out or your head. Yeah, it rolled off in that general direction. Ma’am, if you could be careful. I believe you’re standing on this gentleman’s eyeball. Any requests out there? No, nothing? You know, I’m going to need a little more liveliness out of you all. You get what you give. That’s all I’m saying.

Louis: Aasim loves giving me crap about having a good time, always telling me I’m not thinking long term. “We need to gurantee our future,” all that horseshit. But I tell him right back, there’s only one gurantee: this moment. That’s the only thing you got, only thing any of us got. Might as well enjoy it.

*Clem: The noise from that bell could draw a lot of walkers. If one of us climbs up there and starts ringing it…

Violet: Louis. I vote Louis.

Louis: Hang on. I’d like to make an alternate suggestion.

Violet: Come on Lou. You’re loud, dramatic, a little annoying… you’re basically a walking distraction.

Louis: I think you mean charming and theatrical. Entertaining is another word that comes to mind. Charismatic.*

*Willy: You guys wanna know why I got sent here?

Louis: Dude, no…

Willy: Chronic masturbation

Clem: *such shock*

Louis: Willy, I speak for all of us when I say nobody has ever, ever wanted to know that.

AJ: What’s that mean?

Clem: [protective mom mode engaged] Uh-uh. Don’t you dare.*

*Clem: How were your grades?

Louis: They would’ve been straight As!

Clem: Then it looks like we’re putting in a skylight.

Louis: Thanks, Dad!*

*Louis: Thought I lost you.

Clem: Only for a minute.

Louis: Longest damn minute of my life.*

*Violet: Out of the four of us, who do you think is gonna die first?

Clem: I don’t know, probably you.

Violet: Why probably?

Clem: You asked a morbid question, there’s your morbid answer.*

#what can i say? i love louis and omid lines #ask #twdg

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planetjisungie · 4 years

Text

lucky charms- h.rj

characters; ravenclaw! renjun x hufflepuff! reader ft. gryffindor! mark and gryffindor! jeno (sigh)

summary; with the exams coming up, you need a little help with your charms. well you dont, you just needed an excuse to talk to your long time crush, huang renjun

an; i literally changed this on the spot 🤡 plot holes here i come- (also id like to think jeno is more of a hufflepuff but idk man)

sigh okay this is a long boi

end of year exams were in just a few weeks

yay, your absolute favourite !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sarcasm

now, charms

in room 99, classroom 2E in the south tower

i did my research

you were pretty good at charms, not nearly as good as you were in the care of magical creatures and herbology though

still above averagely good

you know who else was good at charms?

huang renjun

the star ravenclaw prince boy, the pride of the house and a very beautiful boy

best boi renjun

if jeno was being quite honest he was SICK AND TIRED of hearing you two pine over eachother

jeno met you in first year, and you quickly became best friends and even ended up in the same house as eachother

despite having different friend groups (your friend group consisted of you and eunji), you stayed best friends until now aka 5th year

just go with it okay

so as he was saying before i digressed, jeno physically is pained as he watched the longing glances both you and renjun throw when the other isnt looking

but it isnt his business to meddle with your lack of relationship problems

best boi part 2

BUT! but! he will give you both a tiny! eensy! little! minuscule! nudge

that nudge being forming a plan with you

you were slightly reluctant when jenos very enthusiastic face greeted you at the table saying he had ‘a totally brilliant, spectacular, show stopping, wonderful, flawless plan’

this was jeno we were talking about

the same boy who planned the failed midnight snack run a few weeks before

and as soon as he mentioned renjun your eyes narrowed

"proceed."

the plan was for jeno to ask renjun to tutor his friend who was falling behind in charms

said friend was you

and you were ahead of the class

bUT!! you agreed because he wasnt in your class, so there was no way he could know that right?

wrong.

who was in your class?

mark lee. one of renjuns best friends.

also the boyfriend of eunji and the reason you wanted to gauge your eyeballs out everytime you turned around to talk to them

thats right eunji ditched you to sit next to her little markie. bitch.

nonetheless, you agreed because your dumb, spontaneous ass forgot that renjun even knew mark, because if someone said ‘whos mark?’ you would go ‘eunjis boyfriend’

so of course, when all the students were making their way to their class, jeno caught up with renjun seeing as they both had muggle studdies

"hey man, i have a favour to ask"

stage one of operation: stop the oblivious fuckers from pining over eachother (that name may need some revamping) was a-go

"depends what said favour is"

smart boi™️

"is it possible to tutor one of my friends in charms for the upcoming OWLs?"

oh? this piqued china pretty boys interest

"i mean, sure, i could do with some revision too. tell them to meet me at the library after school"

and so jeno walked away with a smug smirk, victorious

and when jeno told you he had agreed later in potions, you were yet you werent surprised

so of you trotted after last period, kinda nervous because youre about to be in the literal breathing proximity of renjun

like obviously youve talked to him before but this time it was just you and him

alone

no get those thoughts out of your head

n e ways u perv

renjun sat at the back table, textbooks and notebooks with his neat writing in both chinese and korean all over the pages

smart boi part 2

so seeing him not looking at you

attention whore

wow why am i so mean today

you sat down and cleared your throat, placing your blank notebooks on the table so the boy wouldnt get suspicious

you had to pray to whatever gods were listening for your cheeks not to flare up the colour of the strawberries you had for breakfast

healthy girl™️

and the gods apparently answered your prayers

because as soon as renjun looked up and into your eyes you swore you were too distracted for your blood cells to even think about moving towards your face

and renjun nearly had a heart attack (by aoa)

poor boy

jeno had NOT told him that he would be tutoring you

he was going to be choked later

"sorry im late"

renjun was nearly offended that you would even apologise to him for being late by

2 minutes and 48 seconds

"no no its okay i havent been here long"

that was a lie he had study period last and has been sat in the same goddamn chair for an hour already but your presence made his ass cheeks ache less

so he started teaching you, but ???

you seemed to fully grasp the concepts

confused boi

excuse me ma’am/sir/señor/señorita whatever you prefer to go by-

you need to brush up on your acting skills dude

appalling smh your drama teacher back from your muggle school would be completely distraught

so for the next hour renjun ‘tutored’ you

things you already knew but this was a dream-

and actually he was a funny guy

he was also muggle born, so you could both relate over things you experienced as a kid

this lead to a raging debate over dora the explorer

that bitch was shaded in said debate, fully annihilated

hola soy dora your asshole

but,, it was fun. because jeno was pureblood and grew up knowing about all his magicky stuff so he was kinda boring sometimes

no tea no shade

but you ended the session with smiles on both your faces, cheeks literally aching with how hard youd been laughing and smiling

so lads

the next day at breakfast renjun was all happy, plonking himself next to mark at the gryffindor table because

man does not give a SHIT about the looks he was getting. he is huang renjun.

"why are you so smiley this morning? and why didn’t you come to my common room last night"

the gryffindor common room was the dreamie hang out

no one dared tell THE mark lee to go somewhere else with his friends

"sorry, last night i was tutoring y/n in charms" smiley boy still

mark seagull eyebrows: activated

excuse him?? charms?? you?? the one who got an outstanding in your report card??

something smells fishy here

"renjun... y/n got an outstanding on her charms"

eunji who had magically appeared next to mark basically said what he was just thinking

confused boi part ??

"wait what?"

but later on he didnt question you about it

he silently observed you

he told himself that anyway

quite honestly if you were spending time with him he was not about to complain

he was staring at you, simply put

my leng bby (thats you, youre my leng bby)

so for the next 2 weeks every day after school you would meet up to ‘catch up’ on your charms

that being said it literally always, every time, ended up with you two talking about something unrelated

like the 5th day you had a conversation about which series of power rangers was better

"SPD, obviously"

AM I THAT OLD?? on god i hate it here

"no, y/n, we all know that dino force is better"

i agree with y/n on this one pal

on the 7th day you talked about muggle sports that you both enjoyed

"i played a lot of cricket"

"cricket? okay tory"

"i am NOT a tory"

on the last day when you should have been, you know, LEARNING

you were having a lovely old chinwag about the x factor

"simon cowell is a king"

"i agree"

legend behaviour if you ask me

wait does chinwag exist in other countries??? translation: chat

so of course the exams came up

but you were dreading them for a different reason

this meant the end of tutoring with renjun

this was super bittersweet, you wanted to spend more time with eachother

you literally could it wasn’t that deep both of you are so dumb smh aint nothing stopping you

jeno agrees with me too, mans pulling out his hair still as you had somehow not gotten together yet

it was like watching snails race, incredibly frustrating but you know that there is the finish line somwhere over the horizon

so you took your exams and both of you passed with flying colours, obviously

smart kids

and you ran right to renjun to celebrate

seeing as he had

not really helped you but you thought that he thought he helped you

oh no honey he knew that you didnt need help

but he didnt know whether to confront you about it?

rip your guilty conscience

so after a long discussion with mark, our china boy decided to ask why the heck you wanted his help when you were absolutely fully capable

unlike mark

and when you saw him approach you first in the halls your heart went

NYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

that was the sound of a fast motorbike

"hi y/n"

‘damn renjun, couldnt have thought of anything better than that?’

"uhh hi renjun"

awkward silence by stray kids

"i just wanted to know why you asked for my help"

okay where is the nearest shovel and what is the most efficient way to dig a large hole-

as if renjun sensed your panic radiating off you in waves

which he did

"not that it was an issue! i enjoyed spending time with you, it was just, you didnt really need help"

he was a pure boy

so you puffed your cheeks and decided to just come clean

somewhere, jeno felt his senses tingling

"genuinely i just wanted to spend some time with you because i really like you"

renjun froze and wanted to smack his head into a wall

bruh

you noticed his expression and panicked yet again

stop panicking man its okay i gotchu

"it was jenos idea"

blame jeno is always a fool-proof plan b

unless you get pregnant, that would not be a good idea

so i guess its not fool proof

BUT I DIGRESS

renjun face palms and groans

"youre kidding me! all this time we wasted doing boringass charms work when we couldve gone on dates"

confusion™️

but?? you felt hopeful??

"i dont think im on the same wavelength"

"i like you too dumbass"

oH so YOURE the dumbass??

yes, yes you are renjun is best boi, accept the L which is really a W bc renjun likes you back

jeno who had found his way to you, listening from around the corner sighed in happiness

"fucking finally!!"

#nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #mark #mark lee #nct hogwarts au #renjun #huang renjun #hufflepuff reader #OWLs #just two dudes deadass pining after eachother

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 10]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 2, 3, 4, and what I have of Chapter 5 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

It’s going to be stop and go for most of the night because a lot of things will interrupt me, but I hope to do a good amount of this today.

Chapter 2

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the 1st saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before.

A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travels that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace.

It was a fairly low stakes mission. He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slide copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out missing, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. Your set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

“If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

Janus’s own mask on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

Inciting Incident

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

“You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

“I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

“I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

#study break stories #not writing

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lilyrachelcassidy · 4 years

Text

Summer Nights (1)

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my new and long time awaited series - Summer Nights. Please read every necessary information in the INDEX of the story (warnings, summary). Do not forget that the fic is quite mature and might contain some obscene stuff (i.a. alcohol and sexual items). I’ll try to post each chapter regularly (like one per week?) however as it sometimes turns out - I can be unreliable in that matter ( ;

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: coarseness, poverty problems, swearing, alcohol and sexual items (or rather mentions of them?), reference to arranged marriage

Tags: @okaydraco @idkatee @paradigmax @winnsmills @war-sword

You turned your gaze away from a computer screen and looked yearningly out of the window on the chaotic streets of Paris.

At that time of day, the city seemed to teem with life, especially in the summer season when many tourists came over to visit the town. You could notice a variety of cultures among crowds of people. They gathered and filled in restaurants, eating and laughing, and chatting with each other.

So how, for God’s sake, did you deserve to be at work today?

The thought of scrumptious spaghetti and a glass of red wine made you feel frustrated. And cloudless, wonderful weather waiting for you outside did not make it any better. You imagined yourself laying in a bikini on the sandy beach with ‘Vogue’ magazine on your laps and Pina Colada in your hands. Or bathing in warm ocean water with sun rays smoothly tanning your skin.

These visions caused a dreamy smile to appear on your face.

However, as soon as you scooted over in a fantasy world, the poke in your shoulder brought you back to reality. You turned your head to the side to see your co-worker and best friend, Chloe. She was crouching next to your chair with her piercing gaze studying your face attentively.

Chloe was a gorgeous woman, and you could easily say that she could break more than one heart. She had big, blue eyes and long, blonde curls falling on her slim shoulders. She had full, pink lips with a Greek-type nose and prominent cheekbones that highlighted her beauty. Her figure was feminine and slender with ample bosom, flat belly, and long legs.

There had been many situations when groups of passing-by boys stopped her in the middle of the pavement, scanning her body up and down with boisterous whistles and comments of a sexual nature. Although you had always tried to stand up in her defense, she never really cared to bother much, just shrugging it off.

“Are you alright?” She narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “You look like a walking dead.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled amused, bitting your cheek. “No, I’m actually fine. Just a little bit dizzy, but don’t worry about it. ”

“For sure? You know, if you take a nap at work, I might be the first person to know about it.” both of you chortled slightly, and you rested your elbows on the armrest. Chloe’s phone started to buzz in her purse. She took it out, muted it down, and eyed you again.

“Anyways. Why are you leaving so early? It’s just four o’clock, and I thought you were ending your shift at eight.” You peeked at the watch on your hand and arched your eyebrow suspiciously at her. Now it was your turn to interrogate her.

“Well, I took a day off,” she informed you. “I’m having a date with Louis today. We meet at six, and he takes me to some fancy restaurant. Of course, he didn’t want to tell me the exact location, mentioning something about ruining the surprise. You know him..” She rolled her eyeballs playfully with a meaningful sigh and an unambiguous smile plastered on her face.

Louis was Chloe’s boyfriend, but also one of your closest friends. You couldn’t say he was the easy-going type of person, and when you first met him, you had presumed his behavior to be a little bit too ‘self-centered’. However, after many years of acquaintance, you had learned that he was rather desperate to drag attention on himself and impress others, with you and Chloe included.

“Lucky. I’m stuck in here for a night shift,” you complained, leaning on the chair's backrest and letting a small groan out of your mouth. It was the third time this week you had to stay at your job for night time. And that wore you out.

“Again?” She frowned.

“Unfortunately...” You grimaced, glancing at your friend with a corner of your eye. “My father hasn’t paid the bills again. I’ve to earn some extra money…"

"Can I-"

"I know you want to help, but please, let's not think about it," you cut the conversation out. Your face started to get warmer, so you lowered your head as not to show your embarrassment. You trusted your friend with all of your soul but still more than felt awkward when it came up with family topics.

Chloe remained silent and smiled supportively, tightly gripping your palm. You appreciated her ability to understand people’s emotions and her tact of how to respond to them.

“I really have to go, Y/N. Call me if you needed any help.” Chloe stood up and went to the backroom of the reception. She put on her coat, wrapping her green bandana around her neck, and then slightly pecked your cheek. She walked over to the exit and, for the last time, turned towards you, waved in the bye, and left the hotel.

You gaped at the place where Chloe had just disappeared, slowly letting out your breath. After a while, you switched the laptop back on and decided to occupy yourself with reading. Clicking on the ‘iBooks’ application, you selected a book - ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’. Maybe, at least that could help you take your mind off things and spend some of your time while visitors weren’t around. You opened the first chapter of the novel, but soon after, you heard someone entering the room again.

Lifting your head, you beheld an elegant woman with a younger boy by her side. You assumed them to be a family, considering their striking similarity in appearance. Also, they distinguish themselves from their surroundings with their peculiarly sophisticated garments and unnaturally pale skin.

The woman smiled at you kindly and approached the reception desk. You got up from the chair and reciprocated the gesture.

“Bonjour madame. Comment puis-je vous aider?” you asked and saw a confused expression painting on the woman’s face. She furrowed her eyebrows for a short moment and cleared her throat.

“Mm… Hello. Do you speak English?” she asked hesitantly with a language accent that informed you instantly of her origin. Many guests of the hotel usually arrived from different parts of the world, which had let you acquire the skill of guessing their probable nationalities.

“You’re British I see,” you noted, grinning. “Of course I do. Welcome to Paris! How can I help you?”

“We have a reservation under the name Malfoys.”

Nodding in understanding, your fingers swiftly started to tap the keyboard of the computer. You entered in the search engine of hotel’s guests with surname ‘MALFOYS’ and found a booking for two people.

“Could I check your ID cards first, ma’am?” you asked and saw her rummaging in the bag. Meanwhile, you started to prepare every necessary paper for her to fill out.

“Here it is,” she finally stated, and you reached over for the documents. You noticed the woman’s foot nervously tapping on the floor but decided to ignore it.

“Thank you,” you said while surveying everything. “Okay, so - Narcissa Malfoy, apartment number 354 - Presidential Suite. It’s on the fourth floor.” You laid the keys with ID cards on a counter top. “And Dra- Dra…”

“Draco. It’s Draco Malfoy,” the boy spoke up for the first time, and - by the tone of his voice - you could already judge that he wasn’t the friendliest type of a person, to say at least. You moved your gaze on his figure, and your eyes met with his stern glare, which sent unpleasant shivers down your spine. He was sitting on one of the lounge chairs located in the room, twisting a carved stick in his fingers. Quickly realizing that you stared at the object, he hid it in his pocket.

You giggled nervously and shook your head.

“Yes. Draco Malfoy. I’m sorry for my oversight.” You blushed profusely and tried your best to pretend that your pre-momentary blunder did not affect you anyhow. You took a second key from a shelf and placed it next to the first one. “Room number 355 - Royal Apartment. Although, it on the fifth floor, which means not located nearby your mom's one, sir."

“No problem for me.” Huffing, he got up from the armchair and walked over, grabbing the keys. His expression still evinced the arrogance, but now you had a chance to examine his appearance more closely and perceive his unparalleled attractiveness. His platinum hair suitably contrasted with grey irises, and the sharp jawline with his muscular body made your knees weak.

Just great...

“If there is anything you needed, please let me know,” you proffered and forced a smile, wishing it didn’t look so fake as it felt. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” said Narcissa, sauntering away with her son following shortly after. You took a last peek at Draco and saw him sending you an unpleasant look before leaving the lobby.

* * *

Narcissa with Draco entered her spacious hotel room. She began to look around the space, smacking her lips in delight. After that, she sat gingerly on her bed and discretely ran her fingers through the bedding set so as to verify its fabric. Draco knew and was accustomed to his mother’s atypical habit of checking the quality of things before using them.

She patted a place next to her, encouraging him to take a seat. He just pressed his lips into a straight line and only shook his head.

“Draco, let’s talk,” she started, grunting.“I think you should - at least - consider being tolerant of those muggles. I know it is a tough period of our lives, after the war...” Narcissa shuddered at the reference of that event and her eyes filmed over a little. “But it is time to move on. Wizarding World is not going to be this same for many years. That’s why for this vacation, I wanted us to come to the place that could let you dispose of redundant memories and experien-”

“Dispose of memories?” Draco cut her off and huffed, leaning flippantly against the wall. His voice was very tight and harsh.“How do you think I could possibly get rid of them? Maybe Dark Mark on my forearm would help me solve that issue? Or Obliviate spell would be a solution?”

At once, the blood was boiling in his veins. He didn’t blame his mother for decisions of the past, but he could not stop himself from snapping. A recollection of tortures he had had to perform on others, of tortures he had had to bear himself, of incurred deaths he had seen… and committed. That wasn’t a fleeting thing to forget.

Narcissa took a deep breath and ignored her son’s snarky comment. She decided not to give up with the plan of their conversation for this evening. So and so, he had to finally hear the truth, right?

“I and your father with Greengrass family established that by the end of this year, you are going to propose to one of their daughters.” She gazed at him, partly expecting the next outburst of emotions. Although Draco’s ears began dangerously reddening, she assumed the silence was a non-verbal acquiescence for her to continue. “You do not have to worry about arrangements for the nuptials, nor about other wedding cases. Everything is going to be organized. And I deeply believe that marring one of those beautiful girls might bring a state of contentment in your life.”

Draco gulped down his saliva and fixed his eyes on the floor, his face expressing wrath.

“I’m sorry mother, but I’ve no idea how marrying a person who I’ve hardly ever talked to could make me any happier.”

“Dear, me and Lucius did not fall in love at first sight either. Nevertheless, we accepted the unusual plight that we were put in, and then we got accustomed to leading our new, joint lifestyle,” she explained, carefully choosing her words. “And I am aware that it must be hard for you. So and it was for me. But now, I could not imagine it to be any different.”

“Well then, if you felt this same way as I do right now, please tell me why are you expecting this same from me by imposing the marriage? Why can’t I choose someone to fall in love with?”

Good point.

Narcissa seemed to be momentarily speechless by his question because there was an awkward, uncomfortable pause for a long moment. Draco sniggered loudly and turned away to leave, but before doing so, his mom’s voice echoed in the room again.

“Love is only a matte-“ she took her last try to argue, her tone rather desperate.

“I don’t care!” he yawped, turning the knob and slamming the door behind him with a violent bang.

Draco headed over to search for a bar where he could abreact the minute-ago conversation. The tension of his body was unbearably upsetting, and his heart was pounding aggressively in his rib cage. His fists clutched tightly, knuckles becoming white and teeth clenched.

Fuck his parents.

Fuck them with their shitty ideas.

When would be a time for him to be able to determine his own opinions about matters in his life? Or rather, the doubt is - would there ever be that time?

Before he knew it, he found himself in this same lobby where he had been an hour ago. As he walked over to the recently encountered receptionist, he spotted her writing something vigorously on an odd, square box. As to not arise any suspicion, he decided to act casually and hide his enticing interest in this particular... object.

Soon enough, you noticed the blond-haired boy and realized it was the man from earlier. A bump formed in your throat, and you fought a sudden urge to run away. Instead, you just set your phone aside and lifted yourself up, all your muscles refusing to do this same activity for the thousandth time this day (‘Is this some kind of aerobic or what?!’).

“Is there something I could help with, sir?” you asked with a smile, trying to remain calm, which was an exceptionally intractable task in this boy’s presence. Maybe as an effect of tiredness, it was hard for you to compose, but you did not like it a bit.

“Yes, actually.” At least he took his best effort to be polite. Although a horrible exasperation, as if something pained him, still convulsed his features. “I wondered if there was a place where I could have some Firewhisky or so?”

‘Firewhisky?’ you thought. ‘Is it some kind of British dainty?’

“Well, for sure I haven’t heard of heating up Whisky before,” you joked, attempting to lighten things up. However, his glare gave you a hint he was definitely not put in a mood for such things.“But there is a pub where you could have a drink, sir. It’s on the opposite street, so all you need to do is to cross over a road.”

Draco nodded. "Oh, and one more thing." He reached over to the inner pocket of his sable jacket and took out an ornamental envelope with an old-fashioned red seal on the top of it. "If the woman who I was with before starts looking after me, hand her over this letter, could you?"

You didn't know where an uninvited rush of interest hailed from, but the mystery-insatiate part of your brain screamed out at you to play along with his cards to winkle out more information. "What if she asks me questions? Shoul-"

"Bend the truth. I only ask you to do one thing for me. Don't reveal to her where or when I went. I gave you the envelope and disappeared out of your sight. Understood, muggle?"

You didn't grasp the last part of his sentence; the one concerning --mugel? meagul? megull? -- but you could bet it meant to be an insult. Swallowing your suspicious hunch, you put on a sympathetic smile. "Sure can do, sir. Hope you have a good night out."

"Thanks. Later." And without any other word, he strode away.

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