#and we realised he's gotten himself into the habit of paying attention to how his emotions affect his judgement | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyperfixatedfandomer · 1 year

Note

Imagine if Lo'ak hadn't gotten away and was captured with Spider, and for whatever reason Jake doesn't go after him, which means Lo'ak was abandoned with Spider.

(I don't know how he does it, but he gets Ardmore to agree to both Lo'ak and Spider coming with the recoms, and now the recoms have two teenage boys with them.)

Quaritch originally tolerates Lo'ak for Spider's sake, the boy had refused to leave his 'brother' behind and the kid could make a good bargaining chip in a pinch, but after a while he starts to get....concerned.

It's little things here and there; the way Lo'ak keeps calling Quaritch 'sir' even after being told not to, how he reacts to the orders Quaritch gives to the squad, and the way he looks like he's expecting a verbal lashing because Spider fell and scrapped his back while they were roughhousing.

By the time Miles hears about the whole train raid, he's pretty much decided that he's not giving this kid back and there's a little urge in the back of his head to nab the others too.

I mean, his kid call's Lo'ak his brother, it's not that big a stretch right?

YES WE GOTTA CALL JAKE OUTTTT!!!! Listen, Quaritch’s is a grade A asshole but if he did one thing right it was making sure that his own kid stays as far as possible from the action. He would be so bamboozled when he finds out Sully’s sons are literal child-soldiers 😭

Quaritch didn’t want to take the blue brat along. While Spider was very capable of causing chaos, he was at least tiny and could be restrained easily. The fourteen-year old with him was a much bigger problem though, as he was up to Miles’s chest and seemed like he could hold his own in a fight rather easily, so he made sure to cut the problem at its root.

“Listen up you little punk.” He spoke in a low voice, holding Lo’ak by the arm. “The only reason why you’re here is so Spider doesn’t get bored and stays in line, but if you pull something with me or my squad” he pointed at Spider “He’ll be the one paying for your shit, so you best behave.”

Bluffing up a threat was the easiest solution for self-sacrificial teenagers like the two they were on a mission with and Lo’ak believed him, which made their travel go without much trouble but then…

Some of the boy’s weirder behaviours began coming out.

The first time Lo’ak stood in line with the soldiers when Quaritch barked at them to assemble, he didn’t give it much thought. Simply pulled him away with a “Not you.” And called it a day.

He didn’t expect it to repeat time and time again, like some kind of reflex.

“Son, you ain’t in the squad. Stand down.”

“Yes sir.” He answered, his eyes down and face blank, before stepping away.

“And how many times do I ya? Don’t call me that. I’m not your colonel, refer to me by my last name.”

“Yes..” he still looked down.

“You too scared to look at me?”

Pointing it out made Lo’ak widen his eyes as if he only now noticed the strange habit, and establish eye contact with the Na’vi in front of him.

“That’s better. You’re a kid, stay out of the way and we won’t have any problems, that’s all I need.”

The words actually seemed to surprise the boy, before he hastily nodded and retreated to stand by Spider’s side.

Now that Lo’ak noticed it, Spider was always relaxed around Quaritch. Sure he hated the guy, more than Lo’ak himself ever could, but their banter, the way Quaritch would lean in or crouch when Spider wanted to talk to him, the way his voice seemed to be just a tad bit gentler around the human, made Miles seem like…

Like not that bad of a dad.

It was a horrible realisation to come to, and even more horrible was the fact that Lo’ak was actually kind of jealous.

He didn’t remember when was the last time his interaction with dad had been this relaxed and casual. Dad was always busy, he had a people to lead.

But so did Qaritch, and yet he always carved out time to interact with the kid and listen to him ramble about plants or animals or spirituality. Lo’ak doubted he actually listened but his undivided attention was appreciated.

He didn’t remember when was the last time he got to speak to his father like that. When he got to tell a story and have his undivided attention.

“They said that it was likely the Omatekaya who stood behind the train raid, although it was pretty far from their territory and we lost them rather quickly.” Z-dog reported on the developments of the month-old train wreck case.

“Oh yeah, it was us” smuggly added Lo’ak, making the entire camp turn their heads towards him.

“Oh really?” Quaritch raised a brow, half-hoping that Lo’ak’s urge to brag will reveal some kind of information on where his clan could reside.

“Jup, I was there when mom single-handedly destroyed your reinforcements.” He smirked.

Hold up, pause.

“Wait, you were raiding with your parents?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

The recoms looked at each other in concern.

“…aren’t you fourteen?”

“Yeah, so what?”

Silence. Miles was actually stunned for words. He saw the images of the train wreck and the sea of blue corpses littering it. The boy in front of him could have been one of them.

Miles turned to Spider with a non-verbal ‘is this allowed?’ written on his face. Spider shrugged, as he used to think it was normal but was no longer sure.

Looking back at Lo’ak, the colonel collected himself and for the first time leaned down when talking of him, putting a hand on his shoulder while looking the kid in the eye.

“A war-zone is no place for a boy. Who made you do it?”

Lo’ak was thrown off-guard by being adressed so personally. “I…well….dad-I mean he didn’t force us, it’s just kinda what we do…”

Miles’s brow furrowed with that answer and he stepped away. “Lights out everyone! Briefing at 8.00 tomorrow.” Before looking back at Lo’ak “you may be a soldier with Sully but here, you’re a civilian so stop with the marine act and go to sleep.”

For the first time in weeks, the blue kid stood full-height, whatever feeling of inferiority and insecurity gone from him, nodding at the colonel and turning to hang out with his friend as Quaritch noticed a tiny smile tug at his lips.

Yeah…if this is how Jake treats his family, he ain’t seeing these boys anytime soon. He thought, before heading for the tents, a strange, protective feeling rising in his chest.

#avatar spider #avatar 2 #avatar #spider socorro #avatar headcanons #avatar way of water #miles quaritch #avatar quaritch #miles spider soccoro #recom quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #avatar lo’ak #lo’ak sully

576 notes · View notes

hotasfahrenheit · 7 months

Text

Ray is not in love with Mew, and has not been for the entirety of this show.

Ray USED to be in love with Mew. 100%. Hundo P. We haven't seen the origin of their friendship, so we don't know for how long he was in love, but it was genuine, and deep. And that kind of love can get muddled when it lasts so long, and when it changes from romantic love to platonic love, those lines can get blurred.

Ray has gotten so used to the idea of loving Mew that he's become fixated on it. Mew as his emergency contact, Mew as his best friend, Mew as his love interest, Mew as his savior, Mew as the object of his adoration, all rolled up and blurred into one guiding star that he's been trying to reach for, to help him survive his depression, loneliness, and struggle with addiction.

When you love what someone means to you, and has been for you, more than you love the person that they have become and actually are, it can get hard to distinguish where one kind of love ends and the other begins, or that things have shifted at all.

Once he fell in love with Mew, he set Mew's heart as the destination for his path in life but at some point he went from actively hoping for that outcome and switched to being on autopilot in that direction.

Of course he loves Mew, he's always loved Mew, he always will love Mew. It's the open secret that everyone in the group knows. It's an established part of the framework of their group. Ray is in love with Mew, but Mew is not in love with Ray.

None of them have been really paying attention to Ray for a while now, though, and Ray is too lost to see it himself.

Why would Ray still go for Mew over Sand in this case, if he's not really in love with Mew anymore? Because everything that goes with being in love with someone gets so ingrained in a person that it's hard to break those habits, plus Ray does love Mew. A lot! Just as his best friend.

It hurt when Ray ditched Sand and their car make outs after the party, but if you take a step back from these characters in particular and Sand's sad boi reaction, and think about it as "a person has gotten home from a party and needs help, their friend absolutely should make sure they are in a safe space", it's an OBVIOUS choice for Ray to make. For anyone to make.

Ray has been taking steps towards Sand and away from Mew, but he's also had people reminding him that he's supposed to be in love with Mew, because that's The Thing About Ray that they have all set in stone themselves. It's an accepted fact of their reality. Really there's a long list of Things About Ray, from this to his addiction problems, and they've all- including Ray- resigned themselves to these things being true, like when Mew shrugs off Ray day drinking from a flask and is like "whelp, can't stop you". They've stopped seeing Ray as a person capable of change, so Ray has too, even while he's changing.

When you've wanted something for so long that you think you want it even when you don't anymore, and the opportunity presents itself for you to have it, of course you're going to take it. When that thing throws itself into your lap, you're going to hold onto it.

But you're going to realise pretty quickly that the thing you thought you wanted isn't what you want anymore. Ray is already in some stages of this- he went from happily dancing with Mew inside to telling Sand without much enthusiasm that they need to see if it works (and telling Sand that Sand is the one who makes him happy), he seems fairly disinterested when he's at the bookstore with Mew, he tries to convince Sand to do community service with him instead of Mew with music as the excuse, Mew won't kiss him and despite Boston guessing that they've already been sleeping together the heavy implication is that that's not the case even once, Sand is the person he's chasing around at the party and not Mew. When Mew does kiss him to piss off Top, Ray is enthusiastic for as long as the kiss lasts, and looks happy in the moment right after, but then it's Sand he's following and trying to kiss after that. He's not trying to get more from Mew. He's trying to get more from someone else.

Mew says to Ray at the end of episode 7 that he should love Ray. He should be in love with Ray. But he's not, and Ray's not in love with him. Mew and Top started their relationship by going through the motions but then caught actual feelings for each other; Mew and Ray are going through the motions but their hearts are both already somewhere else. Ray just needs to consciously figure this out before he hurts both himself and Sand too much, and before Mew uses him to the point of breaking for his own revenge fantasy.

Ray has already realised that Sand is the one who makes him happy, not Mew, but he's so far down in the depths of who he is supposed to be, that everyone keeps telling him he is, pounding into his head that he is, that he can't get himself out of it.

Sand is the only person who sees him as something else, something more- capable of becoming sober, capable of becoming better, capable of having feelings for someone that's not Mew, capable of being a happy person. Ray just has to open his eyes and see that it's true.

#only friends the series #only friends #ofts #only friends meta #ofts ray #ofts sand #ofts mew #sandray #raymew

55 notes · View notes

beth-march · 2 years

Note

Oh, you did, did ya? For the OTP asks. #28 😈 for Ethan/Cassie 😏

Thank you so much, my love, I knew I could count on you!

I'm putting this under the cut because it's mildly suggestive. It's also 760 words which we aren't going to talk about because it was supposed to be under 300. Suffice it to say I am very eager to talk about Essie. ALSO, I straight up took like one (1) word from the prompt and ran with it rather than actually paying attention to the whole sentence. I don't know what happened there, I'm sorry!

28. Write a ~300 fantasy one of them has about the other.

Cassie would never say it out loud, because she knows nobody would believe her, but Ethan prompts a sort of awakening in her. Her friends assume that lust is something she came into acquaintance with long ago. The same point at which she surrendered to its persistent tapping at her door. But she has always known desire as something external; something to happen to her, rather than something she’s partaken in.

Things are different now. Tentative, always tentative, in the way that has characterised this relationship from the beginning. Cassie used to think of sex as a way in, a secret power, a bargaining tool. I give you this, you tell me you love me. Naivety balms the truth, for a while, that their words are not offered with sincerity. Experience, with Ethan, makes her realise a second and more surprising truth, in that neither is the sex.

She never would’ve thought of her previous efforts as half-hearted - not when she was so earnest in everything she gave up, not when she was so compliant about getting on her knees, splitting them open. But nothing she did before compares to how she feels now.

How she wants now. Cassie finds herself distracted by the thought of it. She didn’t used to fantasise about boys - she only ever wished for their attention, for their eyes on her, on whatever part of her struck their fancy. Now she sits in class and her mind wanders to lewd places, except they don’t even feel salacious, not when she thinks of Ethan’s way of interweaving softness with sensuality. He’s in the habit of pressing kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks; he’s worshipful of her in a way that makes her burst out with laughter because it’s so strange to be complimented with such eager ardour, because she’s unused to being showered with praise during and after putting out, as well as before.

She’s trying not to grin, trying to ignore the sudden stirring in her lower gut. Ethan’s parents are strict about study schedules and Cassie has gotten into better habits, joining him in study sessions. Insecure as she gets, she often asks for his help, and most of the time, she discovers that she doesn’t need it. She’s naturally bright, even if nobody has ever drawn attention to it - nobody except for Ethan. She thinks about that awed look he gets, one she’s known all her life, but it’s never been so glittery, it’s never been so warm.

“What do you keep coming to me for?” he asks, the third time she nudges him shyly and points out another question for him to double check, another question for him to confirm she’s gotten right. “You don’t need me, smarty pants.”

And it isn’t sexy. Cassie knows that, objectively. So does Ethan - he realises how ridiculous it is, himself. He’s coughing out a laugh even as he says it. She appreciates his self-deprecation with layers she knows she shouldn’t; she feels safe, secure in the knowledge that he doesn’t think he’s better than her. He’s never talking down to her. He’s as incredulous about the possibility of her loving him as she is about the possibility of him loving her.

He does love her. Not even Cassie can doubt it, with how bright he is around her, how open and giving his affection is. She gets breathy by mistake and not orchestration, and she’s not sexy about it with her furrowed brows, her dumbstruck look, as she asks him, “You think I’m smart?”

He scoffs, says, “Of course I think you’re smart! I talk to you every day.”

Cassie pounces. It’s novel; she’s never been the one to lead before. She hardly ever got on top. But now she finds herself sprawling herself over Ethan, pinning him down, pouring herself into his kiss. She straddles his hips, grasps his face, slithers up the bed until her legs are framing his face -

“Cassandra,” Maddy hisses, elbowing her hard in the ribs. It’s disorienting, returning to reality, a classroom full of restless peers, ignoring a droning teacher.

Everything seems muted, mundane, except for how vivid Maddy’s glare is.

“Sorry,” Cassie says. She means to be discreet, but she’s anything but, glowing scarlet in her thoughts of Ethan’s hands. How they trail up to lean muscles, arms that bracket her, that hold her steady while she comes apart in his hold…

She shakes her own head, trying to disperse her train of thought. She turns determinedly to her books, resolute in ignoring the knowing smirk that Maddy has turned on her.

#ask game #WHEW this is long enough to be an actual fic #this is just for sonya and caitlin my essie besties and jules who indulges me on everything #cassie howard #ethan lewis #ethan daley #essie

17 notes · View notes

leggerefiore · 2 years

Note

since we already got nsfw hcs of yandere ingo and emmet... may we have general hcs of them? maybe how they became obsessed with their s/o?

perhaps...

cw: yandere, drugging, kidnapping, all the good stuff related with yanderes except murder!

tunes for ingo and emmet

▲Ingo▼

● You were likely just a commuter on the subway while he was doing a weekly check. Something about you caught his attention. The way you spoke to a crying child so gently and calmly. His heart clenched at the sight. Ingo approaches, as is his job, and introduces himself to both of you. Your smile and name were branded into the depths of his mind. It started out as an innocent interest. You exchanged numbers and began to talk casually. Little things like you texting a meal you made that night, how you think it's adorable he can name a list of passenger trains by region alphabetically, and the way you chided him for overworking himself. You cared. He needed someone who could care for him the way you do.

● You were becoming close fast. He noticed the way his composure broke in your presence; his dreams are filled with you at his side as his loving spouse. Children as somewhere in the picture, but Ingo just can't place them yet. It didn't begin with bad intention, but the garden of jealousy flourished as he realised the competition vying for your gentle affection. You were never to blame, so fully ignorant to the vultures lingering above your proverbial roadkill. Ingo knows they can't take care of you like he can. His lip is bit hard enough to draw blood as he watches the filthy Kantonian boy who seems to think he has your heart.

● He memorises your time and habits. Everything is thoroughly documented like a train schedule weeks in advance. Ingo is always watching from the shadows. You're never truly alone, but that fact evades you. The Subway Boss will know everything about you. A surprise gift of your favourite sweets after a devastating shift at work, his unexpected presence at a corner store you frequent, and a love letter from some who is aware of the most insignificant things in your life. Ingo will do anything to prove himself. He wants you to come willingly into his arms. His romantic heart yearns for it. (Yet his darker thoughts devour the softness to leave not even scraps. He needs you.)

● Emmet notices that his brother is acting strangely towards you, and goes to pry. His actions are halted when he catches a glimpse of the expression Ingo wears. He knows it; he knows it verrrrry well. He's just the same. A soft, reassuring hand is clamped onto the older twin's shoulder. Ingo will have you assuredly.

● Everything comes to an abrupt end when he sees the ginger meet you in the station with a bouquet of marigolds. The blush is heavy on his cheeks and your hands grasp around your mouth. Ingo manages to resist every urge in his body screaming to hurt the trainer. He wants to make him pay for such a flagrant display in his station. Emmet wraps a comforting arm around the older twin, who begins to sob from all the emotions fizzing in his carbonated head. Your days as a free bird are numbered. Enjoy your time with him while it lasts.

● You're invited to hang out in his office with him during a break. Everything seems normal, he organises some paperwork and talks about a powerful trainer who had challenged him recently. What you weren't expecting was his next actions. He sits across from you at his desk and rests his elbows against the wood while his head leaned into his hands. An intense gaze peered from pale eyes as he cleared his throat, “I love you, dear. I have been entirely entranced by your presence since I first laid my eyes on you with that child. My heart aches knowing that you are with another… I can't take it. Please, tell me you feel the same.” It's uncomfortable. You might have felt that way before you had gotten together with Blue but presently… Shaking your head, the ink wet the contract of the rest of your life. Chandelure's hypnosis didn't even go detected by you as it knocked you out cold. Ingo stares achingly when you fall forward onto his desk. Why did the boy get your heart? You needed someone who could take care of you.

● You'll regain consciousness in an unfamiliar bedroom. The duvet beneath you a dark charcoal, the walls a lame grey and a familiar pokemon lying at your feet. Crustle perks up at your awakening before they scuttle off. It had not been a dream. Your hands were bound to the metal headboard. Ingo confessed his love for you, then apparently knocked you out somehow. You wanted to cry but needed to remain strong. The quietly open and reveals the man himself in an almost comedic apron, carrying a steaming bowl of something. A small, foreign smile graces his face as he sits the food down on the bedside table. “Ah, thank you, darling. Your silence is greatly appreciated,” he sits down near you and simply stares around you with pure, unadulterated adoration. “The walls are soundproof… Emmet helped me create this room especially for you. He's ecstatic that we're finally together. According to him, we're both in for a rough time until you learn to love me.” Your stomach drops. This wasn't a joke; Ingo seriously intended to hold you hostage.

● He's so gentle with you. Physical harm is never a concern, but your mental state is slowly eroded by his waves of unyielding affection. Left alone with nothing to entertain you for Ingo's long shifts at the station, you begin to crave his soft touches and loving praises. It's disgusting and you want to vomit. He feeds you meals so tenderly. It's all of your favourite dishes. How did he know? You didn't want to find out.

● You're held close to him while he whispers such unbelievably romantic things to you that slowly twists and shift in shining examples of obsession. You're going to marry him, you're going to raise children with him, you're going to be the perfect partner. All you have to do is love him like he loves you. It's such a small price to pay for him taking care of you.

● Punishments are embarrassing more than anything else. If you get mouthy and yell insults at him, he forces a pacifier as a gag into your mouth, since you're acting like a child. Chandelure uses hypnosis on you if you're being particularly bad and denying him the ability to touch you. Ingo needs to feel your warmth, please just comply. He treats you well.

● You'll find yourself with more freedoms as you give into his will. You're allowed to be unbound when he's at home, then you're just locked in the bedroom, you're given access to a television and books of your choosing. You'll notice some of his personal additions seem to be about homemaking. He's never subtle with how he wants you to be with him. It's disturbing how the twin wants you to just be a willing, waiting spouse for him. What horrifies you further is how you're becoming more and more comfortable with it. You need to escape soon.

● Should you fully give in, you're given freedom to roam his apartment. Escape is pointless, you come to accept. You learn to cook if you didn't already know, and everything becomes easier to lie about. There was never any love for Blue, you were just attempting to make Ingo jealous. (He's still searching for you. The trainer refuses to give up; he refuses to lose. It was a loss the minute you failed to tell him where you were going that fateful afternoon.) Dinner is ready just as Ingo enters, earlier than usual. His stoicism breaks at the sight of you setting the table. “Dear, I think it's finally time we started our family,” he pulls you in for a long, tender kiss with the statement. There's no point in disagreeing. In fact, children would bring more excitement into your life. You agree.

● If you manage to escape, congrats! Get the hell out of Unova! Elesa is posting and asking for anyone to contact her if they see you. Emmet is scouring the region alongside his brother to find you. It's terrifying. Don't bother with a plane, Skyla is waiting at the airport. Your best bet is by ship. Head to Kanto and hunt down your real boyfriend, he's your best bet. Of course, it's only a matter of time. Ingo isn't giving up on you after how close you were to breaking. (Your body betrays you and craves his affection. It never goes away. His words linger in your mind. Had you failed, you would likely be the willing partner the Subway Boss desperately wanted.)

▽Emmet△

○ You were a trainer who managed to beat him on the Super Line. Your abilities and ability to quickly draw strategies caught his attention. He likes winning, yes, but a loss against a challenging opponent is a driving force to chase after the high of victory. Your name was given before battling, and when you go to get off the Subway, you'll notice the way Emmet gets off with you. Small talk with him is strange, but you decide to give him your number, hoping he might be interested in training with you. You meet up with him afterwards and become fast friends. He's odd, but so sweetly affectionate that you find yourself happy to let the still then acquaintance hug you. Not to mention, your battling skills have greatly improved due to his assistance. The way you smile at him and the warmth your body proves quickly becomes an addiction for the twin. Emmet never wanted to let you go.

○ You were never left alone after the Subway Boss entered your life. He clang to your side and refused to let you go. Emmet desired so much more than that. Everyone tried to take your attention from him and make you present those fake grins. He knows they don't make you happy, not like he does. You're destined to be his loving partner, perhaps even a trainer couple, if he could bare having other's eyes on you. His envy burns hotly whenever you dare look at another with adoring eyes. A Galarian man seems to consume your time, despite his best efforts to claim it all for himself. Emmet seethes in silence.

○ Emmet knows every little thing about you. He memorised it all as he refuses to leave you alone. Even if it grows annoying and unbearable, the younger twin will never come unstuck from you. In his sick mind, you're already dating. He's your loving boyfriend, and you're just being mean for no good reason. Romantic rivals are chased off, expensive gifts are given freely, and your schedule is consumed by the Subway Boss. He coddles and cuddles you to a maddening extent. You'll beg for him to stop, but he won't listen. He's your perfect lover.

○ Ingo will notice this behaviour. Emmet skips work and isn't present for their usual get-togethers. Silver eyes meet matching one as he sees his twin go on about you. Ingo understands his brother's state; he is precisely the same. “Should you ever need help with them, Emmet…” Ingo starts as he pours a cup of tea for him, “I am willing to assist you in any way you may need. Do not hesitate to call upon me.” The younger twin grins at his dear older brother. They were more similar than they were different.

○ You break his delusion when the Galarian man casually wraps an arm around you during a time-slot you foolishly gave to him. Emmet watches nearby, waiting for you to shake off his embrace and scold him. Tell the turquoise eyed man off. You never do. No, instead, you lean in to kiss his cheek. He snaps a picture of you two with his phone. Emmet's nails dig into the tree he's hiding behind. No, no, no- You loved him. You had to. Emmet loved you verrrrrrry much. This interloper had to go. Emmet would kill him. Though, he remembers Ingo's offer.

○ The twin invites you to his apartment (soon to be shared with you, he's so excited) to hang out with him and Ingo. You accept, relieved the other twin will be there. Maybe if he sees how Emmet is acting, he'll intervene and help you escape the toxic friendship. Everything is seemingly normal until Ingo excuses himself to the restroom. Left alone with Emmet, you watch as he sips the heavily creamed black tea. The porcelain clicks against the table as he sets it down. “Darling… You have been verrrrry naughty,” his pale eyes glare into your soul, yet a smile never leaves his face. You were annoyed, of course he'd only do this after Ingo left the room. “You shouldn't kiss others and let them embrace you when you're in a relationship with somebody else.” Everything feels unsteady and heavy. What happened? You attempted to stand and run, but a haze overcame your mind. Falling to the floor, you cried out for Ingo. Emmet had drugged you. Said twin, wrapped his arms around you and shushed you. Ingo's footsteps marched around you to lock the door. You sobbed as everything became more and more impossible to focus on.

○ You woke up in a bedroom closely resembling your own, but with new, unwanted details. Pure white sheets covered you, and a pet bed of Joltiks rested on the dresser facing the bed. Your hands were bound to the headboard by leather, padded cuffs. Screaming out, you hoped someone would rescue you. This startled the Joltiks from their slumber, and many crept away under the door. Moments passed. Surely, someone heard. The window showed it was daytime, and Emmet would never leave you alone somewhere he couldn't access you easily. The door creaked open and revealed the man himself. Your favourite desert was lying on a plate he carried. His smile grew larger when he noticed you. “Love, that won't do anything. Ingo helped me soundproof this room. Only I can hear you,” he fished a baby monitor from his joggers' pocket. The dessert is sat on the bedside table. His arms tangle themselves around you while he places kisses wherever he can. It's disgusting, the actions make you want to vomit. “Ingo told me it will take a moment for you to realise you love me. I will wait.”

○ You're smothered in affection. Physical contact is something you're never without. It unwinds your mental threads ever so slowly. Alone for hours without any contact or ways to occupy your mind, then over burdened with touch until you can't take it anymore. You start to ease into his hugs and kisses; you stop spitting out your food when he tries to feed you. Cruel words are halted in favour of silence. He whispers his declarations of love to you. He's breaking you down.

○ It grows easier to pretend you are his lover, do what he wants. He cares for you; he loves you. Do you feel the same? Maybe. You press an unconscious kiss onto his forehead. Immediately you recoil with shame and disgust eat at your stomach lining. Emmet beams at the affection. Any progress is good progress. You're finally falling into the delusion he lives comfortably in.

○ Punishments are cold and empty. He leaves you alone without contact or stimulation for days. You'll break down and weep for him to forgive you in the end. That or he makes them sexual (see the nsfw post). He's reshaping you so slowly. Patiently, your thread is beginning to run thin. Emmet couldn't be happier. He hates punishing you, however. No contact for you means no contact for him.

○ You're given more freedoms as time trickles on, and you fall into his delusion. (Perhaps you had always been dating him.) Bindings are removed, you're given television, the Joltiks are allowed to spend time with you, he'll buy books and offline games. Emmet will spoil you rotten. He wants you to be happy. You're slowly growing to enjoy the things he does for you. It's easier and easier to just be in relationship with the younger twin. Raihan's pleas on the news for your return snap you from the artificial daze. You need to escape.

○ Yet… It's so easy to comply with Emmet. He does truly spark joy within you. You love the Subway Boss; you always had. Raihan was just a way to make him jealous and pay more attention to you. Emmet had been too busy with work, and you felt under loved. (Raihan never gives up. He knows the creepy train twin took you. Unova keeps denying his inquiries, and even Leon is saying it's best to leave it alone. He will not. Ingo pays him a visit.) The door is opened late one evening and the twin steps inside. He's brought take-out home for dinner. Plastic bags shift audibly as his shoes are slipped off. You pop up from the living room with a Joltik stuck on your shoulder. Emmet beams at the adorable scene, “You know… They are similar to kids. I think we should have actual children soon. That's what couples do, right?” You nod, that is what couples do. The food is set down as he starts chatting about something that happened during his shift. This is a perfectly normal relationship, after all. Starting a family is your next step.

○ If you escape, please promptly escape Unova and never look back. Emmet's connections with gym leaders and the league has many people in high places looking to return you to the delusional man. Get over to Galar by ship, as planes are unsafe and bring unwanted attention. There, you need to hunt down Raihan and tell him what the hell had happened. He'll protect you to the best of his extremely capable abilities. Though, you're never truly safe. Emmet will find you; it's only a matter of time. (Raihan notices how clingy you've become. You hold on to to him for dear life, as if the moment you let go he'll disappear into nothingness. Emmet blossomed a desperate craving in you. He was so close to having you as deluded as him. If only Raihan wasn't so demanding.)

#yandere pokemon x reader #yandere ingo x reader #yandere emmet x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #LONG ASS POST IT TOOK FOREVER TO FINISH THIS #I DONT WANNA SEE ITS FACE AGAIN AAAA

222 notes · View notes

so-this-happened-i-guess · 3 years

Text

Detective, guide me?

[Goro Akechi x Reader]

Summary: You’re visiting your cousin who lives in Tokyo and you just happen to meet the Detective Prince, Goro Akechi.

Warnings: NONE

Author’s Note: I feel like we need more of Akechi, am i right? Sure I am. Just a short story, please bear with me.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32248585

“Like I said, cousin, I have literally no idea where I am or where I am supposed to be going,“ you huffed as you talked to your beloved cousin on the phone, while also being completely lost in Shibuya. Well, it seemed like such a good idea to visit him while he was here during his probation. Now you were not so sure anymore as you stood completely dumbfounded next to the famous Buchiko statue.

Out of self pity you reached to rub the dog’s paw, listening to your cousin’s attempt to give you the easiest possible directions. Easy, my ass, you thought bitterly.

You eyed the people go on and about their business and you caught yourself spacing out, suddenly the voice that spoke to you on the phone became a white noise.

“You got that? Just make sure you get to Yongen-Jaya. I can pick you up there at the station...“ your cousin hummed, a cat-like noise in the background that made you think the cat was telling him something. Ha, ridiculous. Thank Anime for those thoughts.

You blinked once - then twice. You felt hot and cold at the same time and you glanced around nervously. What was it he just said?

“Uh- yeah! Got’cha! No prob. Be there. Y-Yongen-Chia- was it?” you stuttered.

“What? No, Yongen-Jaya. Good luck, I gotta do something now,” your cousin laughed. “I trust you can do it!”

“W-wait- wait don’t hang up- Wait- Yongen-Jaya- how there?” you called desperately but the call was already disconnected.

Awesome-- you’re doomed. Were you supposed to just call a taxi? Surely that’d be the best course of action-

You had to look very lost and pathetic, because a young man approached you. You weren’t paying him much attention at first, frantically searching on your phone for any help internet could give you.

“I apologise for eavesdropping,“ the man said, forcing you to look up at him. You realised two things: his voice sweet like sugar and his face as handsome as that detective’s you saw on the TV just the other day-- huh, what?

“You were.. eavesdropping..? On me?“ you questioned suspiciously.

“Oh yes, how rude of me, I know. I overheard you’re headed to... Yongen-Jaya?“ he asked, giving you a sweet smile.

“You’re hearing things, sir,“ you remained cautious as you looked up and down his slim figure. You noticed the familiar uniform he was wearing, the attaché case with an A. in a circle. The reddish-brown eye colour that somehow reminded you of red wine.

He laughed softly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“My, I understand your concerns, but let me assure you, I approached you with good intentions. I, myself, am headed there. There’s this restaurant I’d like to visit.“ he hummed, still smiling.

Well, you should’t look given horse in the mouth if he was offering to help, right?

“What’s your name, sir?“ you mumbled, at this point just making sure.

This question seemed to take him by surprise as he blinked at you, his shock bringing you just a little satisfaction.

“Goro Akechi, Miss. I am-“

“Oh, so it is you,” you gasped quietly, covering your mouth. “Sure have guts talking to random person on the street. Should I start screaming that I see ‘the Detective Prince’?“ you teased, really just testing his intentions.

“Please don’t. Don’t you need help getting somewhere?” he smiled innocently, which took the wind out of your sails.

You nodded, defeated.

“Let me help you.”

With that, you followed Goro Akechi.

_____________

The train was packed.

You could not believe the amount of people that managed to squeeze in, and it was even more shocking to you that it felt comforting when the detective stood between you and the others, shielding you from the rest of the passengers, as you stood with your back pressed against the train’s window.

Admittedly, it was a little weird having his hands just centimetres away from your head on both the left and the right side of you, but he was steadying himself from falling or being pushed on you. What a gentleman.

In return, you were holding his briefcase.

“I apologise, i didn’t think it’d be quite this crowded at this hour in the evening,“ Akechi mumbled, as if annoyed by the others.

“It’s alright, not your fault,“ you offered him a shy smile.

Akechi smiled back at you, keeping as much distance as he could when he felt someone’s backpack press into his back, forcing him closer to you. He still tried to keep calm.

“You know, you seem more patient on TV,“ you thought out loud.

“I try,“ he mumbled, eyeing you as you let out a quiet giggle. Well, that was cute.

"So, you said you're going to some restaurant?" you asked, fancying the idea of trying to have a small talk with the detective.

"It's famous for curry and coffee," Akechi nodded.

That made you pause a little. You were pretty sure your cousin was saying that exact same thing. Curry and coffee of the best quality. A restaurant located in a back alley with a French-like name. Hmm, name. What was it called again?

"-- anyways, in case you were interested, thats the restaurant's name," you caught the last portion of whatever Akechi was saying.

"Huh?" you blinked up at him, now actually feeling his breath on your skin as the crowd made him close the distance between the two of you almost completely. Centimetres apart, literally.

For reasons unknown, you felt your cheeks heat up. On the other side, it was pretty warm these days and the train was pretty full. Yup.

"Quite the habit of not listening, huh? I wonder if you have in common with whoever you're visiting," Akechi voiced his thoughts with a small snicker, either ignoring or not noticing the blush on your face.

Don't be stupid, he was a detective, he had to notice--

“No, not really. He’s a really good listener, actually,“ you shook your head slightly, gripping Akechi’s case tighter.

Akechi didn’t answer verbally, giving you a small nod instead. At this point his elbows were bent and his forearms also rested against the window. So close. You were pretty you’ve read about scenes like those online.

“Can I know his name and your destination, then? I could just escort you there, seeing how close we’ve gotten over our short ride,” Akechi said, an almost amused look on his face when you choked on your saliva. He meant literally. He meant literally!

“Akira Kurusu. Uhh, I am not sure what the place is called-“

“Akira Kurusu?“ Akechi blinked.

You nodded shyly. Did you say something wrong? Surely not?

“Then, assuming you weren’t listening when I first mentioned the restaurant’s name, are you headed to LeBlanc?“

Your gasp was all he needed to hear and you heard him sigh, mutter a quiet ‘Seriously,’ under his breath.

“Is there something wrong?“ you frowned a little. “Do you know my cousin?“

“Ah yeah, We... have met. A few times, actually. Yes.“ Akechi gritted through his teeth quietly. Well, what a full 180° turn in the atmosphere.

You couldn’t help but giggle. This was quite interesting. You loved to annoy your cousin and seeing Akechi’s partially annoyed expression gave you ideas.

Maybe you found a partner in crime.

_____________

Akechi helped you step out of the train, holding your wrist tenderly as he pulled you aside as the crowd flowed through the station. He held your wrist for a bit, watching the people exit and enter the train.

“Here, your thing,“ you mumbled, pushing the briefcase into his free hand, letting him hold onto your wrist as long as he thought was necessary.

“Hmhm,“ he nodded. He fell quiet after he confirmed your destination and Akira’s name.

“Does it bother you that much?“ you asked.

“Does what bother me?“ he frowned a little.

“That Akira’s my cousin, that you volunteered to take me to LeBlanc,” you shrugged nonchalantly, noticing he still didn’t let go of your wrist.

“You said it, I volunteered - and I am headed there too, either way. And it was just... an unexpected information, don’t make it a big deal,“ he mumbled, looking around. “Let’s get going.“

Holding your wrist, he pulled you along, avoiding people as he followed the path he knew so well.

What a tsundere, you thought. That meant Akira knew this man too, then, right? You’d ask him later. Now, all you could do was drag yourself behind this fast paced detective.

_____________

“(Y/N)- finally- why didn’t you call m---“ Akira paused in whatever he was about to say as was left speechless after he just opened the door to LeBlanc to greet you - and Akechi who was still holding your wrist-- wait, what?

“Cousin!“ you beamed, throwing yourself at Akira who caught you in his arms, holding you close - and you realised it was because he was just kind of glaring at the man who guided you here.

“Hello, Kurusu,“ Akechi faked his famous TV smile. “I apologise for this late intrusion, but I happened to run into (Y/N) here and seeing the lost look in your cousin’s eyes, I couldn’t not-help,“ he explained, oh so sweetly.

Akira rolled his eyes, glancing at you as he held your shoulders.

“I’m really sorry, Akira! I just felt so bad calling or texting you again, it felt so embarrassing! And he happened to be headed the same way!“ you apologised as you wiggled out of Akira’s hold.

“... Sure, alright. Uh. I will make you coffee on the house, tomorrow?“ Akira mumbled to Akechi who beamed in response.

“Splendid, how kind of you, Kurusu.”

“Yeah. Uh, (Y/N)... I will ... just... prepare your dinner, you must be hungry... uh... say thanks to Akechi...?“ Akira mumbled, actually unsure how to talk to the detective when you were present. He turned on his heels, shaking his head as he went inside the restaurant.

You glanced at Akira and then turned to Akechi who crossed arms over his chest.

“Thank you so much for the help. I am sure I’d be still at Shibuya station if it weren’t for you!“ you laughed nervously.

Akechi gave you a small nod.

The silence stretched, but you weren’t sure you wanted to say goodbye to the detective-guide that you met today.

You grasped all of the courage you could as you leant to peck Akechi’s cheek quickly.

“Please, be my guide again, sometime soon, detective,“ you smiled sweetly and then rushed inside the restaurant to bother your cousin.

Akechi stood outside with a dumbfounded expression, eyes wide as he watched you disappear inside LeBlanc. He blinked once, then twice, as a smile spread on his face. His gloved fingertips touched his cheek where your lips touched his skin.

“I’d love that,“ he mumbled, to no one in particular.

#Persona 5 #Goro Akechi #Goro Akechi x Reader #Persona 5 imagine #ren amamiya #Akira Kurusu #fanfiction #oneshot

164 notes · View notes

thesquidkid · 3 years

Text

Through the clouds, I see love shine

Little fic for @unbearable22, thank you for putting this song in my head while I was doing homework 😆 Hope you enjoy! (Read on AO3)

In my life, there's been heartache and pain

I don't know if I can face it again

Can't stop now, I've traveled so far

To change this lonely life

Michael was sitting on the bed of his truck, leaning his weight on his left arm, legs slightly crossed so he could fit. His hat was off, the fingers on his right hand playing with its hem. He was looking at the man in front of him, who was leaning his back against the truck, a laptop positioned on his thighs. Alex looked peaceful, even if nothing about this situation brought peace, the features on his face were relaxed.

They were somewhere in the mountains where Michael had driven them, following a certain signal, stopping every once in a while under a radio post, allowing Alex to connect the Lockhart machine to the post and observe the frequencies and code something that would lead to understanding the machine better. They had talked about the machine some more after Michael had been allowed into Deep Sky to get a look at it, Alex focusing more on the informatic part of it, whereas Michael was more interested in the mechanics and the alien tech used.

This time, their stop was quite long, Alex seemingly having found what he was looking for. In reality, they both knew that Alex could’ve done this all alone, it didn’t require any of Michael’s special skills, they weren’t after Jones or anyone, anything, particularly dangerous. They were just after radio signals for the Lockhart machine. But the fact that Alex had asked Michael to accompany him meant a lot to the both of them and so they drove away from Roswell.

When they were driving they would mostly talk about the machine, about the different theories they had. But once they stopped, Alex would take his computer out and Michael would sit silently, either next to him, or in front of him, and would think. He would think of Alex, of them together.

They didn’t really get a chance to properly talk after the kiss. They did talk about their relationship, and had agreed not to fall back into old habits. But, then, Alex had gotten Michael clearance to get into Deep Sky and the machine had been their main focus.

“Michael?” Alex said, with a smile. Michael realised that he probably had been talking and stopped seeing that Michael wasn’t paying attention.

“Huh,” Michael asked, bringing his thoughts back to the present, “sorry, you were saying?”

“Are you okay?” Alex asked instead, putting his computer to the side, his entire attention on Michael.

Michael breathed out deeply, gathering his thoughts before answering. They both were making efforts on communication, and Michael wasn’t going to stop there. “I, uh, I don’t want to mess this up,” he said with a faint smile, looking back up at Alex.

“I’m guessing you’re not talking about this very boring mission,” he said, with a smile, closing his laptop and waving to Michael to sit next to him.

Michael scooped himself up smiling back at Alex and sat down next to him, turning his upper body so that they were still facing.

“I don’t want to mess us up either,” said Alex once Michael had stopped moving.

“So what do we do then?” asked Michael, his voice low, barely a whisper, feeling like if maybe he said it louder it would curse them. “Because I know we can do better Alex, I know we can be together without hurting each other.” He breathed deeply and blinked a few times, feeling his eyes sting with the beginning of tears. “I am done with all the pain and heartbreak in my life, I just want to love you, freely.”

He raised his head, as if it was a challenge to the universe. Alex put his hand to Michael’s cheek, wiping the tears there with his thumb, ignoring his own. Michael however, not one to ignore Alex’s emotions, brought his hand to mirror the gesture, bumping their arms and making them laugh a bit, before it died down, and they were back in the current time, in the current conversation.

“I think,” started Alex, “that out of the two of us you’re the one with more experience with free love.” Michael shrugged at that, and Alex decided to move on, neither wanting to reminisce about the past, but rather choosing to look towards the future, their future. “I want you to show me what it’s like, Michael. I want to experience everything with you. I want-” he cut himself with a breath, “I want to know what it’s like to not be scared of loving you, Michael.”

They stared at each other, only now realising that it was the first time either of them said that word in present tense. I love you. Three words that for the longest time have been unspoken between them, and finally, breached the surface.

“And as for what we should do,” Alex continued with a sniff, “how about we start with dinner?” he asked, looking into Michael’s eyes.

“Your place or mine?” replied Michael, with a breathless chuckle.

“How about the Roadrunner Cafe? We could definitely make it there for 8 tonight,” Alex replied with a nervous chuckle. The Roadrunner wasn’t so different to the Crashdown - less good quality, obviously - and it wasn’t something too fancy. But it was different. It felt more important somehow, like there was no mistaking in what Alex meant. Not dinner as ‘friends’, but dinner as boyfriends.

Michael looked at him with a smile, “I don’t know about you but I’d probably feel bad, you know? Cheating on Arturo like that.”

Alex laughed at that, “Fair enough, rumors go around quickly in this town.” He looked at Michael with so much softness in his eyes, his face and his body relaxed, that Michael needed to actively fight his instincts, not to jump Alex and kiss him, right here and there, but he also knew that they couldn’t fall back into who they were before. Not if they wanted them to work out. And judging by the way Alex cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Michael’s lips, he would say he wasn’t the only one in that state.

“So, it’s a date, huh?” Michael asked, wanting to make sure they were clear, on the same page, before they did anything else. “Us, tonight at the Crashdown. And not as friends, right?”

Alex chuckled and leaned closer, “I mean I thought we were friends.” At Michael’s teasing raised eyebrow, he quickly added, “but yes, tonight we’re having dinner in the best place in town, as boyfriends.”

As Alex talked, he leaned in closer and closer, until the final word was whispered, Michael feeling it more than hearing it, the two men crashing their mouths together. But unlike all the times they kissed in the last decade, until the night at the Wild Pony, that kiss was slow. Still burning like fire, but without an expiration date.

In the end, they drove back into Roswell, and parked outside the Crashdown. From the moment they walked out Michael’s truck, until they sat down at a booth, their fingers were intertwined. And once they were seated, their bodies touching, from shoulder to knee, Alex on Michael’s left. They knew that people were looking at them, but neither cared. They were too busy getting to know what being loved felt like.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me

#this song is 100% a malex song #michael guerin #alex manes #they both deserve all the love #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #malex #malex fic #also lmao as i am typing these tags #wanna bet that this will be more popular than any of my delmanes fics?#😂😂😂#also please forget anything about science #i do not know what they could be doing here #i just wanted them to talk #thesquidkid writes

86 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [11]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, abuse

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: just to clarify, there are 14 chapters and an epilogue!! also you guys are so nice, thank you for letting me know what you think about this <333</p>

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The wait was taking a toll. It was clawing at you from the inside, and paired with the occasional flare your anxiety gave, everyday was like spending time in an hourglass that was steadily filling up.

Sam helped; making sure the both of you ate after spending hours planning out and revising every detail, introducing you to the world when you spent too long indoors.

The constant rap of your finger against the table and pen tucked behind your ear was the position you found yourself in more often than not. Different scenarios listed themselves on a sheet of paper so you could go through the process of elimination, sorting each loophole out with proper backup.

Going to New York, 3rd floor of 32nd Street, only cash-

“I’m goin’ on a run.” Sam poked his head in from the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll be back before Ransone calls.”

“What?” you mumble, not paying attention. You scratched out another implausible scenario, leaving you with many more to go. Everything had to be perfect.

“Going out. Be back soon,” he repeated.

It still took a minute to register but you found yourself shaking your head once it did. “No, don’t.”

“Why?” he straightened up, no longer leaning on the wall. “Something wrong?”

“It’s not safe.”

“I checked the cameras. No one’s out there,” he sounded confident but you couldn’t shake the feeling of skepticism around the situation that was beginning to return to you. “I’ll be careful.”

“You could be careful by not going.” You shouldn’t have to explain this to him. “It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s changed yet-”

“They have.” You whip around to look at him. “Things are different now. We don’t know what’s out there.”

You both know that he had already been seen once. Who knew how many people were waiting forty feet away from the house? Risking his life for a jog was ridiculous.

“I can handle a 20 minute run,” he challenged. “I’m not even going that far.”

“You’re being reckless.” You could see the rebellious streak he had warned you of before making an entrance. Though you found his spontaneity endearing, the rashness that accompanied it you weren’t fond of.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, Sam,” you exclaimed. “We can’t fuck up the plan with you dying.”

He looks at you with his head tilted and annoyance on his face. A wave of tense silence washes over the both of you and only then do you realise it’s the closest thing you've had to an actual argument before.

“Is that really what this is about? The plan?” he questioned, arms crossed over his chest.

You hesitated.

“What else would it be about?” You know he saw it, the brief moment you took before you answered.

“I’m going for a run,” he said decisively. It stung more than it should have. “But I’m not going far. I’ll circle the house.”

That eased it, somewhat. You would prefer if he didn’t at all, but you were at peace with the compromise. A middle ground.

You nodded, looking away from him. He left soon after, but seeing him run past the window every now and then made you feel better.

Your mind replayed what he implied. You knew what he was saying, you weren’t completely dense. But you would never let emotions get in the way of work.

It had never worked out well for you before, not while you were still stuck with the organization. Like always, you could feel the familiar ache build in your chest, faces you prayed to forget flashing in your mind.

You exhaled, forcing yourself to not relive it again. You were thinking an awful lot about it for someone who supposedly didn’t care about it.

Stupid Sam with his stupid cute face and stupid good heart. Fuck him.

____

“Y/N.”

“Ransone.”

You nodded at Sam who was standing beside you with a glass of water in his hand, leaning his body weight on the table.

“Wilson there with you?”

“No, he isn’t.” Lying to him had become a habit by now, even though you were well acquainted with the consequences of doing so. “What’s the update?”

“We think we found them,” Ransone reported.

“Found who?”

“The people who shot at you.”

Your body tensed.

“Who is it?” you asked slowly, peering at Sam through the corner of your eye.

“Serpentine,” he said coolly. Sam scoffed, taking a small walk in circles to calm himself down. “Trying to establish themselves at the top again. Went for one of you but we don’t know which, found both of ya instead. Killed Pierce then waited for you to show up.”

Your eyebrows quirked up. You could see the muscles in Sam’s jaw tighten.

“How’d you find out?” You place your hand on his, urging him to calm down. He visibly softened, closing his eyes and letting out a silent exhale before nodding for you to continue.

“People talk. You know that Y/N,” Ransone sounded bitter.

“Not personally, no,” you mumbled.

“Well, they do.” The way his tone shifted back to normal like the conversation you just shared didn’t happen almost gave you whiplash. “That’s all on our end. What’s happening there?”

“Nothing. No updates.”

“Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ransone commented. “He tends to get… mouthy.”

“I don’t see him much,” you lied blatantly, ignoring the insult to Sam even though you wanted to retort.

“That’s a good thing. Can’t have you getting attached now, can we?”

You barely looked at Sam, only zeroed in on the fact that his thumb was absentmindedly tracing circles onto your skin while he paid attention to what Ransone was saying.

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’re getting sick of him,” Ransone chided, pushing this conversation far longer than you wanted him to. “After this I’ll make sure you never have to see him again, don’t worry.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows knitted together. You wondered if you responded too quickly.

“I’ll have him stationed somewhere else. Away from you at all times. Won’t have to interact with him again.” He was doing it again. Ruining any fucking form of a relationship you could have. “You can thank me later.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you bit back. He knew what he was doing. He was drawing it out of you.

“Well I thought you’d be more grateful consideri- oh,” he stopped abruptly. “Unless you’re already attached to him.”

You pulled your hand away from Sam who only looked concerned about where this conversation was heading. The sudden chill that took its place didn’t make you feel any better.

“Oh, Buttercup,” he laughed pitifully. “You know it would never work. Don’t you remember all the others?”

You didn’t say anything. Only folded your arms together and forced yourself not to go down the path he was trying to drag you to. If you hung up now he’d only take it as a confirmation.

“You two shouldn’t have been friends in the first place. Your lives would have never intersected if this didn’t go wrong.” You hated how he was pointing out things you had overanalyzed time and time again.

You hesitated for a second, forgetting the fact that you knew he was preying on you on purpose.

Because these were thought you’d already had. Thoughts of whether you were growing on him only because you were stuck together. Of course if he was forced to co-inhabit a safehouse for this long with anyone he’d like them.

And as much as you despised to even think it, Ransone was right. How would it even work once you got out?

It couldn’t.

And you wouldn’t let yourself even consider the possibility that it might because it was just wishful thinking at best. The line between friendship and something more were merging together so fast, you weren’t even sure they existed anymore.

“He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. I’m sure he’s charmed his way into making you think you’re important to him, but you’re not,” he sounded sympathetic, almost like he was patronizing you. “You’re just his way out of there, honey.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to launch into a tirade. You held up a finger to silence him, praying that he wouldn’t do something stupid. You couldn’t lose the only communication you had with Ransone over this.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way-” What a truckload of horseshit.

“I’ll send you my location,” you broke in, words faltering. “Just have someone come get me.”

“If that’s what you want.” You could tell that he was barely hiding the joy he had gotten out of completely fucking with you.

“Don’t look for me directly. I’ll come to you. Just have someone ready to bring me back.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Sam. You had too much going through your head at the moment, things that had specifically to do with him.

“Are you sure? Someone can be at your doorstep within an hour, you know that.”

“I need time to sort some things out. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“As you wish.” You wanted to smack him.

“Bye,” you say shortly, trying to wrap it up.

“Y/N,” he cut in before you could end the conversation. You wait for him to continue, not saying a word. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You roll your eyes and hang up, not letting him get another word in. The minute you got a second to breathe, everything he said began crawling its way back into your head.

“What the hell was that?” Sam fumed.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“That wasn’t a part of the plan.” You want to tell him to calm down because you had never seen him this infuriated before.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, feeling more drained by the second. You fucked up by talking to him for so long, you knew it.

“That sick, abusive piece of shit,” he continued furiously, but you only looked down, tuning out his droning.

It was fucking humiliating to think that you could have a normal life. It just wasn’t possible. You were in too deep. Staying here with Sam only confused you, made you long for things that weren’t attainable.

“He’s right,” you utter quietly, effectively shutting him up.

He stared at you incredulously. “What?”

“He’s right.” You pushed yourself away from where you’re leaning on the table.

“About what?”

“You know what, Sam.”

“No, I don’t,” he retorted, “He said a lot of shit so I’m going to need you to specify.”

“I’m going to take a nap.” Your head was spinning; you didn't know how to tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Don’t run away from this conversation,” he sounded annoyed, rightfully so. “Tell me what he’s right about so we can talk this out.”

“About this,” you relented, spinning around to look at him. “Us.”

“He was just trying to get into your head, Y/N, like he always does,” Sam exclaimed, letting his arms fall beside him.

“This could never work, Sam. We’re friends because we see each other every single day, constantly.” You gestured back and forth between the both of you. “What happens once we get out? When you’re not stuck with me twenty-four-seven?”

He knew what happens to people when they get too close within the organization; he had first hand experience with Riley. They never survived long enough to tell the story themselves. They were ripped away from you, time and time again. It was so tiring to start all over from the beginning, every single time and for nothing.

You didn’t want it to happen again, not to him. You just wished he’d believe the other anxieties you deemed less important than this, and dropped the topic. Another death is not something you’d be able to handle.

“We deserve a bit more credit than that, I think,” he said defensively, taking a step toward you. “If our relationship was built solely on proximity then it wouldn’t affect you this much. We’re beyond that.”

“Well, what if we’re not? What if we realise we only tolerated each other because we didn’t have a choice?” you fired back, crossing your arms.

“Speak for yourself,” he huffed. “I would never let that dictate my choice.”

He sounded so confident, so assured that it wasn’t circumstantial. How could he be so sure?

“I don’t get you,” you whispered. “I can’t figure you out.”

“What don’t you get?” He looked like he was on the verge of pleading. He stopped right in front of you, a temporary barricade between you and the hallway.

“Why you treat me the way you do.”

He looks taken aback for a second. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you in any-”

“No,” you interrupt him, realising that it didn't sound the way you wanted it to. “Why you’re so… good. To me.”

He doesn’t say anything in return and you can’t even look at him, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You had tried for so long to figure out what his motives were. Every time he did things that went beyond common courtesy, your gut would scream at you to find a hidden motive. No one was ever this nice to you unless they were put up to it. You’d had enough experience to realise this.

When you couldn’t find anything it only confused you more. You had shoved it away a while ago after he never displayed any other reason. You let yourself believe it for once.

But it was back; the incessant need to know everything. It was gnawing at you along with everything else because Ransone knew exactly what buttons to push. There had to be something.

“Y/N,” he called out softly. You felt his hands on your shoulders, urging you to look at him.

“It’s stupid,” you murmur, trying to ignore the fluttering in your heart.

“It’s not. And I need you to look at me when I say this,” he says slowly, drawing your attention to his face. “I care about you. More than you think I do. You’re not some means to an end. He’s wrong and I need you to believe me on that.”

He waits for it to set in. You get why he wanted you to look at him now. There wasn’t an inkling of deceit in what he was saying. You had seen him lie, seen him try to bluff his way out of a petty situation. It wasn’t this.

He cared about you because he wanted to. Not because he was forced to; whether it was because you lived together, or because of something else.

There was so much more you wanted to ask him but nothing got past your throat. It was too heavy. You needed help.

There was barely any distance between the both of you. You could feel his breath, skin tingling from where he was holding you.

You unconsciously move in, drifting towards the warmth he radiated. Your hands find a place on his sturdy chest, and you let his heartbeat tether you.

His eyes close when you lean your forehead against his, forcing himself to control his breathing that was threatening to get away from him.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, forehead pressed against his, trying to make your peace with what he said.

You want to kiss him, much stronger than the last time you had the same thought. Just to see what it’d be like.

You instead pull away gently. Your hands still rest on his chest. You need time to figure out where your head's at.

“I trust you.” Is all you can say, not tearing your eyes away from him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger there for a second and you revel in the flips your stomach does. “I trust you.”

But for now, maybe you can be content with where you are.

Next part

248 notes · View notes

obeiii-mee · 3 years

Note

Hi! Im new to your page and i love your writing 💕 i have a request for demon brothers headcanons on how they treat MC after realizing they get anxiety from things like yelling/loud abrupt noises/ things like that? For example, they flinch, get quiet, or start fidgeting? Thank you!!!

Aww, thank you so much. That means a lot to me and I’m really glad you like my writing considering I have such a chaotic style lmao. Also, welcome to this mess of a blog. We give off ‘cult’ vibes but at least we have hot, fictional demons to make up for that.This was super sweet because I know for a fact every single one of them would be very understanding of MC’s anxiety of anything.

Enjoy!

———————————————————————

The Brothers with an MC that gets anxiety from loud/abrupt noises:

Lucifer:

-He may not get anxiety from it, but Lucifer definitely prefers a quiet atmosphere/environment where he can focus on his work

-Which makes living with his brothers a living nightmare because they don’t have the capability to shut the fuck up

-That being said, he catches on rather quickly that you do not feel comfortable around loud noises in general

-There’s a limit to what he can do but every time you feel like you need a bit of peace and quiet, know that you are more than welcomed into his office at any time of the day. Even if he isn’t there

-He definitely prioritises your mental as well as your physical well being seeing as living with demons can have a massive effect on your sanity

-He’s not judgemental about it either because, while he doesn’t understand why loud noises may cause you to be so anxious, he understands that humans are built differently to demons

-Lucifer has no chill at times and will tell all of his brothers off every time they make a big scene, whether in public or private

-He can be a tad overprotective at times but he means really well, especially if he sees you’ve gotten oddly silent for the past few minutes or has caught wind of you fidgeting during dinner

-I don’t know how much I stressed so far about the observation skills this man has but I will keep doing, he can spot you flinching at loud noises from a mile away

Mammon:

-I believe that he can read people really well and can recognise when a person is feeling a certain way

-But he’s still a complete dumbass so he might still miss a few clues hidden in your mannerisms

-Like, he realises you’re uncomfortable but he doesn’t understand the degree of it or why it exists

-You’ll have to be blunt about it and tell him about your deal with loud noises because otherwise he will be stressing about it for weeks on end

-Dating him as a result of your anxiety over loud noises can prove to be...difficult

-He’s a very boisterous and obnoxious being, everytime a particular emotion of his flares up, he gets significantly noisier

-Whenever he enters the room you happen to be in, you’re forced to cover your ears and flinch because he has a way of announcing his presence

-But he tries so incredibly hard to act calmer around you and he so hates it when he fails to do so because he knows how uncomfortable you get as a result of him screaming like an idiot

-His brothers usually blame him when you start fidgeting because they assume he’s the cause of your rising anxiety and he started to believe it as well

-He sees that look on your face and he is just gutted

-He is ready to get on his knees and start apologising profusely until you forgive him for being such a noisy bastard

-The times other things/people are the cause of you going weirdly quiet, he will use his threatening tactics

-“Listen ‘ere, you’re makin’ my human uncomfortable so if you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t let you see the light of day again. Do ya hear me?!?!”

-He says to the godfather clock when the sound of it striking midnight startled you

Levi:

-He 100% understands

-He hates loud noises as well and they usually make him scamper back to his room lol a rat in hiding

-Levi is slightly more immune to them however seeing as his brothers do have a habit of raising their voices all the time

-But do not worry, human, for he will protect his Henry from the annoying sounds people in general make at the cost of his life

-Take shelter in his room, please

-He loves having you in there and usually you only have the noise of video games in the background

-If you’re there and an anime he’s watching is getting too loud, he will turn it down for you ahead of time

-Sometimes, he can be as noisy as his brothers, especially when he rages at one of his games

-Bu he’s so quick to shut up once he realises you’re there

-And then, like Mammon, would start apologising for being not only an ugly otaku but an obnoxious one at that

-So y’all end up comforting and cuddling each other because.....uh....mutual hatred for loud things?

-Also, he would decapitate his brothers for you if they crossed a line (like he’s not really a Yandere but he’s a demon with demonic instincts to protect I guess)

Satan:

-Much like his father eldest brother, Satan also prefers silence in general

-After all, it’s a lot easier to read when his brothers aren’t there to muck about the place and make too much noise

-Humans are very different to demons, especially psychologically speaking and he understand that

-That’s why he doesn’t question it when you follow him into the library to seek refugee from his siblings

-If anything, he’s rather happy he gets to spend some time with you so the two of you sit in silence, each of you doing your own separate thing

-He knows if something is bothering you again, he can probably notice you suddenly start fidgeting in public

-He’s very cautious with you when you are in this state as he deems you are at your most vulnerable

-One time, a teacher at RAD raised his voice too high while scolding you for not paying attention and that earned an involuntary flinch from you

-That guy was officially on Satan’s shit list from then on, just so ya know

-Overall, he’s very sweet and patient with you and absolutely does not mind spending an entire day with you indoors away from loud noises

Asmo:

-He has no problem with loud noises whatsoever

-If anything, he loves being in crowded public places like The Fall, since partying and socialising is one of his many talents

-Not to mention, he’s so used to own family being so loud it just doesn’t affect him that much

-However, when you first arrived and he noticed just how badly you reacted to loud noises, he started avoiding things like clubbing as if it were the plague every time he hanged out with you

-Asmo needs social contact but he is more than willing to spend time indoors with you if it makes you feel better

-Or going out shopping in a relatively quiet shopping centre

-I mean, getting his nails done with you by his side sounds absolutely amazing to him

-So as much as he loves making noises and spending time in rowdy places, he’s always going to make an exception with you

-Always

Beel:

-Beel is unbothered by noise

-Sure, he does like it better when his brothers aren’t fighting and things are peaceful around the house

-But, he’s not fazed by yelling, loud music, heavy things falling and thudding against the ground etc.

-He picks up on your anxiety riddled gestures the first time Lucifer has a go at his brothers in front of you

-Because you started fidgeting like crazy and in that moment he was the only one that saw it

-So Beel grabbed your hand and led you outside of the room and Lucifer was so caught up in the moment he didn’t even realise it

-Probably, maybe he just let it go

-Basically, Beel decides that he shall protect you, the tiny human in comparison with him, from any loud noises that might startle you

-He will do it, do not test him

-One time, Mammon was screaming because he was chased by the witches and it made you flinch enough for Beel to see

-A couple hours later, Mammon disappears completely and shows up at your door, looking absolutely traumatised but genuinely apologetic and says sorry

-Sometimes people forget Beel is a demon

Belphie:

-I’m gonna make a wild assumption and presume that if you are vulnerable to loud noises, you are very likely a light sleeper

-If that is the case, (apologies if you’re not) then Belphie would be very quick to notice because a lot of shit goes down at night time and most of the time, it’s loud

-Belphie doesn’t have a problem with it, he can sleep through anything, even his brothers and especially Lucifer

-But he definitely notices if you aren’t cuddled up to him any more, even if he was asleep, because you sat up in bed suddenly at a random noise at 3am

-Note: That was Asmo sneaking back into the house trying to be as quite as possible but tripping and breaking a window

-“You’ll have to get used to that. My brothers are idiots, they don’t know when to be silent.”

-He prefers quiet places like the attic so he can actually sleep, but again, could do so either way so it doesn’t matter to him

-But he is going to be...let’s say ...upset.... if you were to wake up from a nap session because of someone something

-“Make one more sound and I’ll rip your tongue out.”

-Even when you aren’t napping, he gets very angry when people get unnecessarily loud, especially with you reaction

-But that just gives him an opportunity to bring you to the attic or something so the two of you can actually chill by yourselves for a chance

-Beel is invited obviously, but Belphie is just as happy to be left by himself with you

-Ironic how much his feelings for you have changed, huh?

————————————

So I really finished this by the end of the week. Hope this is actually some good because I spent all of my brain cells on an another giant request I’m working and the rest were used to write this. Thank you for sending me requests though guys! Now every time I get bored I can just answer your asks. Have a nice Monday!

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #MC being anxious around loud noises #🌸 comfort #☂️ demon brothers #⭐️ requests

325 notes · View notes

animatedarchives · 4 years

Text

‘H’ FOR HAJIME

— 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄

author’s note: hi everyone! i read this post from @peach-pops and couldn’t help but write it out into a fic :”) please brace yourself for angst because this was one hell of a ride :”)))) enjoy!!!

genre: pure angst

warning: car accident, death, mourning a loss

word count: 1.5k

He sped around the corner, eyes immediately drawn to the flashing lights of the ambulance blocking his view of the accident. He stopped the car and ran to the scene, not even bothering to kill the ignition.

Iwaizumi had gotten a call 10 minutes ago saying that his best friend had gotten into a car accident, and before the caller could say another word, he’d hung up and rushed to the location of the crash.

Iwaizumi pushed past the crowd, muttering curt apologies as he made his way to the front. As he emerged from the sea of people, his breath hitched and his heart pounded as he assessed the scene before him.

It was awful, like something out of a horror movie.

Glass shards glinted dangerously across the floor. Oikawa’s car was now completely disfigured; the hood was banged in, the sides were too and the windows and windshield were just empty spaces where glass used to be. Iwaizumi craned his neck to get a glimpse of the driver’s seat, but was unable to see past the inflated airbags.

Distressed and anxious, he grabbed the arm of the nearest officer.

“Oikawa Tooru. The driver. Is he okay?” his voice came a little harsher than expected due to the tension in his body. He didn’t even know how tight his grip was until the officer tried to pry his arm away.

“Please stay calm sir. We are trying to recover the bodies from the car right now,” he stated.

“Bodies?” Iwaizumi repeated. Plural?

“Yes. Two were found in the car and one is presumably dead.”

The thought of seeing his best friend limp and lifeless made his stomach churn and his heart clench. He looked back at the beaten-up car and saw them carrying out a body. Iwaizumi’s heart almost stopped beating. The body may have been bloodied and bruised, but he would recognise those soft, brown locks anywhere.

“Tooru!” he cried, lurching forward and running past the protesting officer.

“Tooru!” he shouted again, wishing, wanting, praying that his best friend was still breathing.

“Sir, please back away,” the paramedics said, lifting his limp body onto the stretcher and rolling him towards the ambulance. Iwaizumi followed, never once leaving Oikawa’s side.

“Dammit Shittykawa, wake up!” he yelled, eyes trained on him to look for any signs of life.

Suddenly, Oikawa began to stir and his eyes fluttered open. Iwaizumi breathed a sigh of relief, and Oikawa turned to the man who was making so much noise.

“Iwa… chan…” his voice was hoarse. “I’m… sorry…” he said through laboured breathing, his eyelids slowly drooping back down.

“Oi, you better stay awake Shittykawa. Don’t go back to sleep!” Iwaizumi’s voice was earnest. Desperate.

The ends of Oikawa’s lips curled up at the sound of the nickname. His eyebrows then furrowed as he let out a string of coughs.

“Sir, please step back. We have to load him into the ambulance,” the paramedics told Iwaizumi. He nodded curtly and turned his gaze back to his best friend. At least he was alive. Breathing.

But then… who…

“Hajime…”

Iwaizumi’s chest tightened at the sound of Oikawa using his first name. His real name.

Oh no.

“Y/N… I’m sorry… Please forgive me…” was all Iwaizumi heard before the paramedics hauled him into the ambulance and out of his sight.

Y/N? What does Y/N have to do with this?

As if to give a cruel answer to his question, he heard some commotion coming from the direction of the crashed car.

No.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; the paramedics running over to the scene, the shouting of the officers saying something about “no pulse” and the dragging of a limp body out from the wreckage.

No no no.

Something glittered under the light of the ambulance and his face contorted in horror as he caught a glimpse of the thin silver chain, a memory from the past surfacing right before his eyes.

“‘H’ for Hajime?” you smiled, looking at the pendant of the necklace he helped to put around your neck.

He chuckled. “Of course, Y/N. That way, I know you’ll be mine forever.” He kissed your lips.

“Happy anniversary, babe.”

His head was spinning, his breaths were ragged and his heart was pounding in his ears. His mind was foggy and he didn’t even realise he had called out your name. All eyes were on him as he pushed past the crowd, shoving everyone aside as he made his way to you.

They were lying.

You weren’t dead.

You couldn’t be.

He came closer, and he saw that the ‘H’ was not attached to the necklace. Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was some other unfortunate person, just not you. He tried to convince himself, reassure himself that everything was going to be okay. But as he moved past the paramedics and the victim came into full view, any sign of hope was consumed by darkness. Because there you lay, face caked in blood and a dull, faraway look in your eyes.

He sunk to his knees and choked out a sob, gathering your body into his arms — pale, limp and lifeless. The world crashed around him as he let out an earth-shattering cry, screaming your name over and over in hopes that you would hear him and wake up. Tears were streaming down his face and he was rocking your bodies back and forth on his knees, paying no attention to the gravel digging into his tough skin.

He was unconsciously shaking his head, as if to deny the reality of the situation. This was just a dream. A horrible nightmare that he would wake up from to find you sleeping peacefully by his side, a smile on your face as you snuggled up next to him.

But he knew. He knew this wasn’t a dream.

Because he was already awake.

He cried and cradled you in his arms, burying your face into his chest because it was something you did that always gave him comfort. Even with all the smoke, he could still catch the distinct scent of your perfume as he hugged your body close to his. The familiar smell caused a lump to form in his throat as he remembered how you would spray it in the mornings as you got ready for the day together. How you would blush when you looked at him through the mirror, only to see that he was already staring at you. How your hand would go up to your necklace, your fingers fiddling with the pendant because it was a habit you developed when you were shy, embarrassed or scared.

Were you scared when the car got hit? Were you holding the necklace he gave you as the car crashed? Were you thinking of him in your last moments?

He grasped your small hands in his, the usual warmth of your skin now replaced with an unfamiliar coldness. He unfurled your fingers so he could hold your hand one last time when something dropped from your palm, right into his lap. He picked it up but had no time to look at it before the officers started grabbing his arms and pulling him away from you.

“No! Stop! Leave us alone!” he yelled at them, trying to push them away as they brought over the white sheet.

“Please just let me hold her! Please! Please…” he sobbed. He was practically begging now, trying to hold on to your physical form even though it was just an empty shell, and you were no longer there. But the officer’s grip on him was as harsh as the reality around him, and as much as he tried to resist, his body gave in to exhaustion and they dragged him away.

His eyes were glazed over as he watched the officers cover your body with the white sheet. He felt hollow and empty as the weight of everything settled over his grieving heart. All the promises you had made about getting married and starting a family together slowly slipped away, like a dream he just couldn’t reach.

He watched them load you up into the vehicle, his expression blank. He wanted to scream and to cry, but he was too tired and felt like he had no more tears left to shed. The ambulance started up and sped down the street, leaving Iwaizumi standing there, aching in silence. As they brought you further away from him, it felt like the string of life that tied you two together had finally been cut.

You were really gone.

And you were never coming back.

Iwaizumi balled his fist and felt something pressing against his palm. Remembering the thing that you’d dropped into his lap, he brought his hand up to look at what it was. What you were holding when you breathed your last breath. As he slowly unclenched his fist, his heart leapt into his throat and he felt a wave of emotion crash down on him again.

There in the palm of his rough hand, was the very thing that was missing from your necklace.

“‘H’ for Hajime?” you smiled.

Iwaizumi clenched his fist around the pendant again, fingernails digging into his palms as your words echoed in his mind, now all but a distant memory. His body tensed and he choked out another sob, now realising that he was the last thing on your mind before you were taken from this world for good.

#iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi oneshot #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi headcanons #hq iwaizumi #iwaoi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader imagines #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaoi #iwaizumi haikyuu #tw: death #tw: car accident

598 notes · View notes

notsuchacleverboyq · 3 years

Text

00Q Prompt

James' daughter.

In which a woman and a girl pay James a visit right before Q comes back from work. Surprisingly, 007 knows both of his guests.

It wasn't rare for James to be home before Q, since the quartermaster had the usual habit to forget the time and stay at the MI6 more than necessary.

Still, every time the flat seemed quieter and oddly desert, without Q's steady typing or his chaotic and occasional outbursts of energy.

Waiting for Q to come home, James found himself preparing a dinner that he could have easily warmed up in every moment.

It was barely eight p.m. when he heard the bell ring.

James' first thought went to Q, but it was quite impossible, being the quartermaster in posses of a bunch of keys.

Immediately grabbing a gun, the agent went to the door, opening it.

He found himself in front of a woman with wavy, brown hair, staring at him with confidence.

The agent was more than sure to have already met her, he never forgot a face. He was sure to have a memory somewhere in the back of his mind that was related to her.

It was only later, as James hid the gun in the back of his trousers, that he noticed a girl, around fifteen, that looked exactly like the woman, less for her eyes, that caught James' attention: they were icy blue, almost glass looking.

A cold shiver ran down James' back at the sight.

- Hi, James - the woman suddenly said, pronouncing his name in a hiss.

Recognising the voice, the agent gave an heavy sigh, immediately realising who he had in front of himself: Rachel Brown, a relationship that lasted a few months before everything messed up.

- Rachel - James greeted her, giving another and quicker glance to the girl.

- May we come in? - the woman asked.

James nodded absently, still distracted by the teenager's eyes, an horrendous feeling spreading inside of him.

After the agent had slid to the side, Rachel stepped inside with the girl and James closed the door immediately after.

- I imagine there must be an important reason why you've payed me a visit - James said and Rachel nodded.

Not expecting an immediate explanation, the agent sighed silently and the bad feeling became worse as Rachel gasped, searching for the right words.

- I'll tell him - the girl snapped, rolling her eyes, but didn't have the chance to talk since her mother quickly turned towards her to shut her up with a glance.

James looked at his watch while leaving Rachel a moment to actually come up with a logical explanation, knowing that Q was about to come home in any moment only to burst into that scene.

- James, you see... - Rachel started and the girl gave in a vexed groan.

- I'm your daughter - the teenager snapped, causing the mother to turn towards her once again.

Leaving his guests to argue over the virtue of knowing when to keep the mouth shut and when to give voice to the thoughts, James hid his face in his hands, huffing loudly.

He wasn't totally surprised about it, he couldn't be after seeing the girl's eyes; still, the news hit him like a truck in the middle of a street.

As he returned to face the girl, still processing what he had heard, James was startled by the sound of keys moving in the lock of the door: Q had arrived home, exactly the last thing he needed at the moment.

The agent quickly slid away from the door and a second after Q walked in.

The quartermaster looked as he was about to say something, but then he froze together with the woman and the girl. The three stared at eachother, very similar confused expression on their faces (except for the girl, who was leaning against the sofa and just watching things escalate).

Q's gaze wandered from the guests to James, stopping on the agent for a few seconds, and then he looked back at the guests.

- ...Evening - the quartermaster managed, slowly closing the door.

By the look Q gave him, James knew he had understood, or at least he had a minimum suspicion.

Without giving him even the time to take off the coat, the agent grabbed Q's arm, which only caused the quartermaster to wince and look at James with a questioning (and suddenly worried) look.

- Give us a minute - the agent told to his guests with an harsh tone, dragging Q in the bedroom.

Once they were inside and the door was closed behind them, the quartermaster turned towards James, who was still squeezing his arm.

- You're hurting me - Q informed him and the agent quickly let him go, looking at his lover in regret as the quartermaster took a few steps back.

James sighed heavily and noticed how Q stiffed at the action, holding his computer bag as if it was an anchor.

- James what's going on? - the quartermaster snapped.

The agent puffed, trying to decide how to drop the news.

- The girl... - he started, but suddenly stopped.

- Yes, I saw her - Q blurted, with a sharp tone and a quick nod.

Due to his lover's answer, James regretted having let the girl and the woman in, knowing that Q wasn't going to be pleased about it.

- She's my daughter - the agent muttered, trying his best to stand Q's blank look.

- Yes, I figured: I have eyes - the quartermaster replied with a so neutral tone to give James chills.

Expecting a burst out in every moment, after seeing Q so calm, the agent took a step back.

- I assure you that this changes nothing... it's not even recent... - James quickly said, trying to prevent any argument.

When Q laughed, the agent blinked in surprise.

- Of course it's not recent: that girl looks half my age - the quartermaster chuckled, giving the agent a warm smile.

- Yes, right. I just panicked - James muttered, laughing a bit himself.

Q laughed louder, nodding and trying to keep from laughing further.

- Oh, I noticed - he replied, moving forward to kiss James' cheek.

The touch made James' muscles relax instantly and he dared to wrap his arms around the quartermaster's waist.

- Would you like me to leave? - Q then asked.

The agent quickly shook his head.

- Please, stay - James quickly answered and the quartermaster chuckled.

- Alright, but let me take off my coat, first - Q said and the agent let him go.

Waiting as the quartermaster carefully rested his beloved laptop on the bed, James heard the muffled words of the woman in the other room, sometimes followed by a few annoyed sounds from the girl.

- Shall we go? - Q asked, drawing James' attention back.

The agent turned towards the quartermaster, who was now in his cardigan and had abandoned the coat together with the laptop, nodding quickly before stepping out of the room.

As they walked back into the livingroom, Rachel turned to face them, while the girl was leaning on the headboard of the sofa, keeping her arms tightly crossed at her chest.

- Is everything alright? - Rachel asked and James just hummed in response.

- Rachel, this is Arthur: my boyfriend. Arthur, Rachel - the agent said and looked as the two exchanged a handshake.

Staring at them, the girl took a noisy step forward, as to remind everyone of her presence, and leaned her right hand towards Q.

- Matilda - she introduced herself, giving Q a solid handshake.

For the general surprise, Matilda leaned her hand towards James as well. The agent stared at her with frowned eyebrows, labelling the situation in which he had found himself as utterly ridiculous.

- It's called "handshake". You know, you need to grab my hand and move it like this - Matilda explained, right before shaking her own hand as a demonstration.

From his right side, James heard Q suppressing a chuckle.

As Matilda leaned even closer, the agent eventually decided to grab her hand and exchange an handshake, feeling how his daughter's skin was rather rough.

- It wasn't difficult - Matilda said and James looked at Rachel with an amused and shocked smile.

- I guess she took my temper - the agent noticed.

Rachel laughed and nodded.

- I don't know if I should feel annoyed or pleased by that - Q muttered and James playfully hit his shoulder.

Matilda, who was now completely focused on the conversation and not leaning against the furniture with idleness anymore, pointed her index in Q's direction.

- I like him - she adjudicated, winking at the quartermaster.

This time, James clearly saw Q's delighted expression, smiling brightly as his lower leaned closer to him.

- I've decided I'm pleased by it - the quartermaster muttered, causing all of them to laugh in unison.

James wrapped an arm around Q's waist, noticing how his own mood had gotten jollier.

- Did you two eat anything? - the agent asked.

Rachel was about to answer, but Matilda's eyes lighted up in hope as she processed the question.

- You've got food? - the girl asked.

- Don't be impolite - the mother immediately scolded her and Matilda crossed her arms with a groan.

James smiled about his daughter's reaction.

- Don't worry, Rachel: we still both need to eat - the agent told the woman, before looking at Q with a questioning look.

The quartermaster, realising that the agent's look was a silent question, smiled softly and gave a minimum nod.

- I think it won't be bad for us to stay a while longer - Rachel eventually decided and Matilda hopped in joy.

I'm gonna write a second part for this (likely) because it's getting long...like...really long.

#007 #00q #james bond #00q fanfiction #00q fic #ship #q james bond #writing inspiration #James'daughter

38 notes · View notes

bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

Text

Sweethearts

Your high school graduation was just like the ones you’d seen in the movies. After excepting your diplomas in front of your families, you and your friends headed of to a random field for a bonfire and camping. It was a night you never wanted to forget. It was filled with old stories and laughter, nostalgic memories and wishes for the future. Most importantly it was spent with the boy you thought would be your one and only. Jungkook was supposed to be your forever. That was the night you lost your virginity to him.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, both of you fumbling to figure things out through messy kisses and rough grasps, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. You spent that night wrapped in each-other’s arms, dreaming of what the future could hold. It had all seemed so perfect, everything set out in front of you. Attending the same university, finding jobs in the same city and eventually marriage. It was all mapped out waiting for you… until it wasn’t.

Like most high school romances, it all fell apart. Not immediately, and not all at once. It started with little things: your workload got too heavy, his friends teased him, you both lashed out in frustration. By the end of the first semester, it became too much and after a long tear-filled goodbye you let each other go.

That was almost a year ago now. You had managed to avoid seeing him for the most part and were moving on well. Obviously, some of the rumours made their way to you:

“Did you hear Jeon slept with almost all of the drama girls before they found out about each other?”

“I heard he was so good none of them cared.”

“I mean his numbers that high at this point it makes you wonder doesn’t it….”

“Yeah, he must be a GOD in bed.”

You usually just shook your head at the giggling girls and moved on. It still hurt to think about him sometimes, but you breathed through the pain and got on with life.

One afternoon you are studying in a coffee shop on campus, not long before winter break. The essay you were working on was kicking your ass and you had decided a change in scenery would do you some good. Just as you take a sip of your drink, you realise it was a fatal mistake. Your eyes find each other instantly when he walks through the door with his buddies. You gulp down your drink and rush to return his grin with a somewhat confident look of your own. His hair is longer now, pulled back into a bun at the back but his bangs hang loose around his face, perfectly framing his deep eyes. He is more heartbreakingly beautiful now than he has ever been, It isn’t long until the moment you share is broken by a blonde throwing herself into his arms. She giggles and slaps at his biceps, chastising him about something you can’t hear. It feels like someone’s punched you in the stomach. Everything is too warm as you watch the way he basks in her attention, friends hollering in support of whatever’s happening. You don’t bother looking back at him as you pack your things away. That’s how you miss the way his smile faulters as he watches you leave.

Once home you abandon all plans of finishing your essay, instead reaching under your bed to pull out a dusty shoebox you hadn’t thought about since you’d put it there. You empty it’s contents on to the sheets. You stare at the remnants of your relationship scattered around you. Movie stubs, polaroids, and old gifts. You don’t realise you are crying until a droplet hits an image in front of you, smearing the handwritten caption on the bottom. You lift the picture to study it. Your past-self stares back, sat in his lap and folded in his loving embrace. His nose is scrunched, it’s the part of his smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. The words at the bottom once read “Me and you forever baby” in his handwriting. Thanks to your tears, it now said “you forever baby.” In a sick way it made you laugh, now more accurate. You pick up the small pink bear he had once won for you out of habit, still finding comfort in its worn fur. Not pausing to tidy the items away again you curl into yourself and fall asleep.

It must be a few hours later when your awoken by someone banging at your door. You glance at the mess around you and try to make sense of what’s going on. Your alarm clock on the bedside table reads 00:00. That’s when you hear his voice through the wood.

“Y/N… let me in… please.” His words are a little slurred and he sounds upset, but there’s no mistaking the owner. You open the door and take in his puffy cheeks, evidence that he had been crying too. For a little while the two of you stare at each other, finally seeing the pain that had haunted you both for so long. It takes him shivering for you to realise you hadn’t let him in. you shuffle sideways, and he enters your apartment. You close the door and turn to face him, finding him leafing through the photos strewn across your bed he smiles fondly at the memories, lifting the same image you had been staring at a few hours prior.

“Do you remember this?” he questions, not wanting to get to the point of his surprise visit.

“Graduation.” You croak, voice still weak from crying. He collects the items and places them back into the box for you before sitting on the edge of your bed. You move to join him, careful to sit far away enough to enforce boundaries.

“Do you still love me?” the question catches you off guard, you’d spent months convincing yourself he had moved on. No one fucks half the campus without moving on from their past.

“What are you doing Kookie?” he cringes at the old nickname as you scold him. “Why are you doing this to me?” fresh tears form in your eye at this new form of torture. He reaches a hand to comfort you like he used to and then thinks better of it, dropping the limb back into his lap.

“I don’t know Y/N, all I do know is I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they are you.” His eyes search yours for a response, but you are too shell shocked to react. “It hurts too much still. Every time I try to fill the void you left, I fail and end up hurting more than ever.”

“I… It ...It doesn’t work Jungkook, we tried, it wasn’t meant to be, it was too hard.” You try to reason with him despite every bone in your body demanding you do the opposite.

“Screw that! We should’ve tried harder. I will do anything to prove to you that we can still work… please just let me try.” This time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. You melt into his embrace, seduced by his words. Desperately clinging to every part of him you could reach. Trying to reclaim what you had lost. He falls backwards onto the sheets and you follow, straddling him, trapping him underneath you as you re-discover one another. His hands travel lower playing with the hem of your shirt before tugging it upward. You toss the fabric away from you and return to his lips, craving his taste. He takes you by surprise when he flips you. He had never been weak, but clearly his time in the gym was not going to waist. He leaves hot open-mouthed kisses from you chin to your cleavage paying close attention to the parts he remembers as the most sensitive.

You shiver under his touch as he pulls the lace cup of your bralette out of his way, nipping at the skin around your nipple. He plays with the bud for a while his hand absentmindedly playing with your other breast. Satisfied with his teasing he forges on, tugging the waist band of your pants with him. You lift your hips to help him remove the unwanted fabric and he makes quick work of it, soon returning to your now exposed core. He drags a finger up your slit before taking the wet finger into his mouth. Watching him savour the taste drove you insane. He let out a moan at the familiar flavour making you whine in response.

“I’m going to make you feel so good baby girl. So good that everything’s okay again.” You nod feverishly, wanting nothing more than to believe his words. He licks along your entrance collecting your juices on his tongue before sucking your clit into his mouth. You tried not to think about how he had gotten so good at what he was doing and focused on the pleasure. Soon he added two fingers to your dripping vagina, finding your most sensitive areas with ease. Whimpers tumble freely from your lips as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to stretch. The final straw comes when he ads the third finger, the stretch proving too much for you as he scissors the digits inside of you. You cum harder than you think you’ve ever cum before. He resurfaces once you’ve ridden out your high; his chin dripping with you. You don’t think he has ever looked better.

You grab at the top knot at the back of his head pulling the band loose and using the new length of his hair to your advantage. His face his back against yours in seconds. You can taste yourself on his lips. You tug at his long locks as he grinds himself against your leg, reminding you he is fully clothed. Suddenly displeased with his state of attire, your hands moved to undo the fly on his jeans. You slide one hand into his boxers, grasping at his length and pumping a little, trailing your fingertips along the underside. The bunny smile you love so much appears on his face as he pulls away from you, shedding his own clothes. You can’t help but let your eyes wander down his newly chiselled physique. The v at the bottom of his torso now much more prominent, a clear arrow to where you wanted to be most right now.

You make a grabby motion, and he chuckles, lowering himself back onto you. You try to gain the upper hand, attempting to flip the two of you back over so you could ride him freely. Unfortunately, he is prepared and stays firm, keeping you trapped under his weight. You pout at the inability to play.

“I want to make you feel good too.” He kisses your nose; it’d come off as patronising if it had been anyone one else.

“You can do that another time, right now I need to make you feel the way you’ve always deserved.” He punctuates his words by thrusting into you. He leans on one arm, using the free hand to rub at your clit as he sets a leisurely pace between your hips. You arch your back from the oversensitivity of your nerves, still recovering from the last mind-blowing orgasm. This only allows him better access to the most sensitive parts inside of you. The steady rhythm and assault on your clit have your second high appearing quickly. Unable to contain yourself you grasp onto his back leaving small half-moon indentations where your nails dig into his skin. The moan you let out is unearthly, making him moan in response. His grunts and the hitting of skin echo through the room as he speeds up in search of his own end.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow you to orgasm. Halting deep inside you, he releases and collapses on top of you. You let out a loud grunt at the weight and he laughs before rolling to the side and pulling you into his chest.

Masterlist

More from these prompts - closed

Holiday prompts - open

#bts fic #bts smut #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook college au #bts college au #jjk smut #bts jungkook #100 #200

260 notes · View notes

gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

Text

Naimhde

This is also part of Pósadh Eagraithe :The Series and I hope you like it! It’s from Han Solo’s POV when he first realises that 1. Boba’s alive and 2. Boba is married to Din meaning that 3. He can’t shoot Boba :(

Ao3 Link

Naimhde= Enemies

Look, Han Solo was having a good day. Emphasis on was. Ben had slept through the night again so Han got his full recommended hours of rest. Then Leia had had the morning off from the Senate so they had all gone to the park together. Luke was on planet for once with the green frog child so Ben was able to play with him. Leia had told him days ago that they were required to attend a ball that was being hosted to celebrate the Republic getting a treaty with Mandalore so he’d already gone through the seven stages of grief about that.

Now, he’s at said ball and across the room from him, Boba fucking Fett is smirking at him. Han snarls at the look the bastard has on his (apparently very scarred?) face but Leia puts a warning hand on his shoulder. “I know that’s Fett but he’s the leader of the Tatooine crime syndicate now, and rumour has it he’s taken over a couple more of the Hutt Space planets. He’s powerful, Han, and he probably hates us enough. No fighting.” She hisses into his ear.

Of course Boba Fett came out of a fucking sarlacc pit to become a godsdamned crime lord. He shouldn’t have been surprised. And he clearly has some sort of power in Mandalore because Mandalorians aren’t naturally deferential but they seem to treat Fett with an extra bit of respect.

A silver Mandalorian comes over to Fett and says something lowly to him. Fett nods and saunters over to Han and Leia with the other Mando striding ahead of him. “That’s the Mand’alor, their king. No one knows his name or species and he never takes his helmet off in front of non-Mandalorians. He signed the treaty as ‘Mand’alor the Reclaimer’ and his people adore him. He’s rumoured to be absolutely deadly, so once again, Han, I don’t care if he’s coming over with Boba Fett, behave.” Leia whispers and Han suppresses his urge to punt Fett into the nearest star.

Contrary to popular belief, Han is smart enough not to piss off the ruler of a warrior culture that are supposedly the greatest fighters in the galaxy. He got lucky with Fett the first time, he’s not making the man’s whole planet mad at him by fucking with their king.

Their pretty intimidating king, he’s not gonna lie. There’s a veritable armoury on the Mand’alor’s person and Han can see the familiar shape of a lightsaber hilt at his waist. Leia had mentioned something about a ‘Darksaber’ and Han does not want to find out the difference between a Darksaber and a lightsaber firsthand.

The Mand’alor inclines his head in a regal greeting as he halts in front of Leia. “Senator Organa, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. Luke mentions you often.” He says in a low, smooth voice. Huh. Han is absolutely loyal to Leia but if the Mando king ever offers a threesome…..

Wait, how does Mando know Luke? Leia seems confused too but she hides it well. “The honour is all mine, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with my brother though?” She says politely, voicing the question in a much more eloquent manner than Han would’ve.

Mando chuckles and answers her with a smile in his voice. “Cuun ad, Grogu, is one of Luke’s students. He’s the small green one with an affinity for frogs.” He explains and Han raises an eyebrow. Luke had said that Grogu would never grow to be taller than maybe hip height but Mando is of fairly average height for a humanoid species. 5’10 or ’11 maybe.

Leia smiles brightly. “Yes, I do know Grogu. Luke mentioned his father was a Mandalorian. That would be you, then?” She says, relaxing slightly. Talking about children is a safe topic, even when Boba Fett is part of the conversation, and no, Han is not letting that go, he’s a Senator’s trophy husband, he’s mastered the art of polite glaring.

Fett speaks up then, still smirking. “Both of his fathers are Mandalorians. I adopted Grogu when the two of us said the riduurok.” He says, looking directly at Han as his brain freezes in its tracks.

Boba Fett is married? Boba Fett is married to the king of Mandalore? Boba Fett is a father?

None of that computes. Han Solo and Boba Fett are not supposed to have anything in common and Boba Fett is most certainly not supposed to be a regular human being with a spouse and kids and apparently a job, if being a crime lord counts as one. But clearly he is and Han is mad about it. It may be irrational but the bastard froze him in carbonite for three years and he’s gotten away with it. Whenever Han imagined Fett it was as a corpse being digested by a plant monster, not as a successful husband and father. Oh, Han is so mad.

Leia squeezes his hand a little tighter than necessary and Han grits his teeth. No fighting. He can do this. He really doesn’t want to do this. Chandrila’s sun is actually quite hot, he knows Beskar has a high melting point but he reckons it wouldn’t hold up against a star. He could just get in the Falcon, with Fett, and then space him beside the star. Boom, problem solved.

Leia is congratulating Fett and the Mand’alor on their marriage and subsequent child. To be completely honest with himself, Han may or not be considering telling Luke to get Grogu into therapy. Having Boba Fett as a father would definitely fuck a kid up.

He tunes back into the conversation as the Mand’alor answers Leia and immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Yes, children are the most important part of our culture. I adopted Grogu before we got together and I actually only met Boba a little while before Luke began teaching him. Boba always knew Grogu was part of the picture and honestly, the kid loves him. His second vow after the riddurok was a gai bal manda for Grogu.” Mando says, helmet tilted towards Fett. It’s probably the armoured equivalent of a sappy look and Han resists the urge to scowl.

He doesn’t know what a riderock or a gabblemanda is but it’s clearly important to Mandalorians and Fett is smiling broadly at his husband. Ugh.

“Oh, that’s incredibly sweet. How did you two meet?” Leia asks and Han screams internally. “When I first Found Grogu, my tribe took on the Hunter’s Guild so we could escape. I was trying to find more Mandalorians and I came across an areuttise on Tatooine who had Boba’s armour. I helped him take down a krayt dragon that was attacking his village and in exchange, he returned the armour to a mando’ad. Boba tracked me to Tython and said he would help me protect Grogu if I gave him back his armour. We were attacked by Dark Troopers and they took Grogu for Moff Gideon. Boba helped me get Grogu back and once he’d taken over Tatooine, he joined our efforts to reclaim Mandalore.” Mando explains and Leia smiles.

“That sounds romantic. The first time I met Han I threatened him.” Leia says anecdotally and Han shoots her a betrayed look. Fett is so going to use that against him somehow, Han just knows it. Instead, Fett just shakes his head and explains further. “Both of us are sol’karta, ‘aromantic’ in Basic. The Mand’alor’s council were concerned about finding a Rid’alor and I was suggested. I accepted, as the Mand’alor is one of my closest friends. I love him dearly but we’re not in love with each other. We’re best friends raising an adorably mischievous ad’ika.” He says and the Mand’alor nods.

Huh. Han can’t say he’s ever heard of an arranged marriage where both parties are friends from the start. He’s sure that some spouses end up as friends but politically arranged marriages in the Core tend to be loveless affairs. He almost finds himself congratulating them on finding a good balance but then he remembers he would be congratulating Fett. Nope, he’s not doing that.

“Oh really? Luke did mention that Grogu has a habit of disappearing on him.” Leia says and Fett laughs. “Yeah, his Force osik enables him a lot. I never realised how much of parenting was going to be coaxing a grumpy toddler off of a ceiling.” He jokes and ugh, Han can relate to that and he’s mad about it. Leia says something in response but Han is too busy glaring at Fett to hear her. The bastard is still smirking, plus he’s not even paying attention to Han, like Han is beneath his notice.

“I know you two have a son, right? If you’re ever on Manda’yaim for diplomacy, perhaps they can hang out together. I know when I was a child, I hated being in boring meetings and Grogu would definitely appreciate a friend.” Fett suggests and Han nearly explodes. Boba Fett’s hellspawn child is not going to corrupt Ben!

“Oh, Ben and Grogu met earlier today actually! Luke is on-planet at the moment and he brought Grogu with him when he heard that your people would be here.” Leia says and Mando’s helmet tilts. It probably means something in Mando Armour Language but Han has no clue what. “Is Luke still on Chandrila?” He asks, seeming curious. “Grogu is due to come home to Manda’yaim next week but if Luke is here, then I might ask if we can bring him home now to save Luke the trip.”

Leia smiles and tells Mando where to find Luke. Mando says his goodbyes and leaves, but Fett stays. They seem to have some form of communicating that Han can’t understand because Fett doesn’t seem confused at all by his husband’s departure without him.

Fett rocks back on his heels before levelling Han with a smug grin. “If you ever feel like going into Fett Space, drop by my palace on Tatooine. I love getting visits from old friends.” He says before bowing to Leia and leaving to follow Mando before Han can splutter a rebuttal. Fett Space! Is he serious?

Apparently he is, as the New Republic receives a missive a few days later, announcing Mandalore’s official recognition of the former Hutt territories as under Boba Fett, their Consort’s, unequivocal rule. It means that if the Republic ever aggravates Mandalore, they would essentially be going to war with the majority of the Outer Rim between Fett’s planets, Mandalore’s vassal planets and the seemingly endless planets that have allied themselves with Mandalore instead of the Republic.

Han isn’t too concerned about the political ramifications, seeing as that’s Leia’s remit and he’s mostly retired, but fuck, he’s mad that he can’t even think about dropkicking Fett into a star without inciting a galaxy-wide conflict. And the bastard knows it. Every time he comes to Republic events as either the Mand’alor’s spouse or as the leader of Fett Space, he acts like the perfect model of decorum so Han can’t even argue that he was provoked.

Han is forty-three, he shouldn’t be having aneurysms but every time he sees Fett his brain stops getting the message. The worst part is that Leia has become friends with the Mandalorian king and Ben is fond of the green child, so Han is forced to interact with Fett on a far too regular basis. Forget Fett, Han is considering launching himself into a star.

Sadly, Leia won’t let him. So Han has to put up with Fett for just a while longer. Speaking of, how old is Fett? Can Han get away with measuring coffins yet? Please say the bastard is at least ninety, he was around during the Clone Wars, there can’t be much left in him. Please, Han is going to lose his mind if he has to play nice with Boba Fett again. And again. And again.

(systems away, Boba’s ears go hot and he knows that Solo is plotting his death once more. Grogu coos and Boba looks down to see the womprat chewing on his pendant again. He chuckles and grabs something softer for Grogu to gnaw at. He has more important things to think about than Solo.)

#posadh eagraithe the series #han solo #boba fett #din djarin #leia organa #bobadin #hanleia #aromantic boba fett #aromantic din djarin #ao3 #fanfiction #star wars #the mandalorian

25 notes · View notes

writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy

Pairing: Sam Winchester (SPN) x Spencer Reid (CM)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags: implied one night stand, college bar, questionable decision making, flashbacks, Stanford!Sam, virgin!Spencer, making out, grinding, back alley blow jobs

Created for: @spnkinkbingo - TedTalk!Sam | @there-must-be-a-lock 3,500 followers / 30th birthday celebration - Sam x Spencer

Summary: When Spencer comes across a viral TedTalk, he's stunned to see he recognises the speaker.

When he gets into the bullpen that morning Spencer goes through his usual routine. His messenger bag and scarf are dropped onto the desk, jacket slung over the back of his chair, and mug filled with coffee that – thankfully – smells fresh. He holds the warm ceramic tight between his hands, letting his fingers re-acclimate themselves to blood circulation after his walk in from the bus station, while his computer flickers to life and his inbox loads.

After years of resisting the advent of modern technology, Garcia had gotten fed up with him and set up his work email address with a few things to tempt him into reading his emails. Every day he comes in to cute pictures of baby animals - courtesy of the chain between Garcia, JJ and Emily - as well as newsletters from medical journals, physics journals, and psychological studies. Spencer opens today’s email from the TED conference series and sips his coffee while he waits for the embedded videos to load. Last week there had been a really interesting keynote on educational psychology, and he hopes there is something equally as stimulating today.

The headline under the video isn’t particularly enthralling, Top Federal Lawyer Shares How To Win - In the courtroom and in life, but Spencer nearly spits out his coffee when the video thumbnail loads and he recognises the speaker.

Sam Winchester. So he’d gotten into law school then. More than that, he was now one of the top Federal Attorneys in the country, according to the bio in the email. God, he’s young to have that job, he’s only two years younger than Spencer. Even Hotch hadn’t made it that far up the legal ladder by 35. He remembers Sam as intelligent, charismatic, intuitive – all skills that would have gotten him far if he shook the right hands along the way, but still – Spencer is quietly impressed.

“Hey, Pretty Boy!” Spencer hears Morgan’s voice distantly but he’s caught up in memories now.

“Pretty Boy!”

Spencer looks up from his drink and turns towards the sound of his nickname, about to tell Morgan to stop calling him that for the millionth time when he hears another voice shout back.

“Dude, can you just stop? I told you not to call me that!”

Spencer and Morgan both look puzzedly at the stranger who’d just told Morgan off. He has bright hazel eyes, and soft looking, light brown hair and – yeah, Spencer can see why someone might call this guy ‘Pretty Boy’.

“Oh, sorry,” Pretty Boy blushes and shakes his fringe in front of his eyes. “I thought you were Brady. I keep telling the idiot to stop calling me that.”

“I keep telling this one the same thing,” Spencer jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Morgan, shocked for a moment that he’d actually spoken. He wasn’t very good at speaking with strangers in bars.

Morgan claps his hand over his chest in mock hurt, expression teasing. “C’mon man, you know I’m only messin’ with you,” Morgan laughs and ruffles Spencer’s hair. “He is pretty though, in’t he?” he whispers conspiratorially at the other Pretty Boy and Spencer shoves Morgan off him.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my gun on me,” he threatens and Morgan holds up his hands in surrender.

“What like you could hit me?” And before Spencer has the chance to retort, Morgan’s dashed off, back to the table where Gideon is sipping a beer and reading through an open case file.

“So, you usually bring a gun on nights out?” Spencer takes a moment to realise the stranger is talking to him again.

“Oh I, uh,” Spencer stutters under the his open, curious gaze. “It’s not, um, I’m an FBI agent,” his voice shoots up at the end making it sound more like a question than a statement. “So it’s not, you know, illegal for me to–”

“Hey, it’s fine,” the stranger laughs and scootches one bar stool closer to Spencer. “I know who you are, actually,” he admits, ducking behind his hair again. “I was in the careers talk earlier.”

“Oh,” Spencer relaxes a little now he doesn’t have to explain himself but then tenses up again remembering how awkward he’d been during the presentation, and not really wanting to relive that experience if this guy was about to make fun of him for it.

“I uh, I’m Sam,” Pretty Boy – Sam – sticks his hand out, and Spencer shakes it, a little perplexed as to why this guy is still talking to him. “I’m uh, guessing I should call you Dr. Reid rather than Pretty Boy, huh?” Sam tries to break the tension with a joke and Spencer realises he’s still holding Sam’s hand, the skin soft and warm under his, and he’s staring pretty intensely at the guy.

“Um, Spencer,” he manages to choke out as he snatches back his hand and tucks his hair behind his ear.

“It’s nice to meet you Spencer,” Sam smiles, genuinely, but with some kind of intensity behind it that Spencer can’t place.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sam,” Spencer tries the name out on his tongue and decides he likes it.

“I really liked the presentation earlier,” Sam says, taking a sip from the beer bottle he has in front of him.

“Are you thinking about joining the FBI?” Spencer asks, circling his fingers around his own glass to give them something to do, to keep them from creeping back along the bar towards where Sam’s are now resting.

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, turning on his stool to face Spencer a little more head on, and giving him a small smile. “I’m pre-law right now, but I thought it would be cool to hear about, I guess.”

“Law is nice,” Spencer nods. “We get a lot of people transferring in from law backgrounds.”

“Did you like the Academy?” Spencer grimaces at Sam’s question before he can help himself. “Oh, maybe not then,” Sam laughs.

“No,” Spencer rushes to explain himself. “I just, when I was there I was still really young, and y’know, people pushed me around a little. I mean, look at me,” Spencer gestures up and down his scrawny body.

“I am looking,” Sam breathes, eyes following Spencer’s hand and dragging across his form. Spencer freezes. Did Sam just… flirt with him? He has no idea what to do with that. He decides to carry on with his previous train of thought instead.

“With a guy like you... you wouldn’t have that problem,” Spencer finishes, feeling himself blush a bit in embarrassment at the lame conclusion. He was not doing a great job at selling the Academy.

“Whaddya mean? A guy like me?” Sam pushes with a knowing grin, that same intensity in his gaze, eyes still roaming over Spencer.

“Well, you, y’know,” Spencer waves his hand in Sam’s direction, hoping that will get his point across, but Sam just sits there smirking at him, waiting. “You’re all tall and, a-and,” his eyes catch on Sam’s shoulders, which are broad, and nicely displayed beneath a t-shirt that’s stretched just a little over the muscles there, “s-strong looking, I guess?” Spencer cringes. God he sounds like an idiot. “I bet you could throw around someone like me, easy,” he shrugs. Sam is still smirking at him, and Spencer takes another drink, trying to cool down the burning in his cheeks.

“You wanna find out?” Sam takes a casual sip of his beer, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Find out what?” Spencer’s brows draw together, not following. Sam grins and hops off his barstool, closing in on Spencer’s personal space. Most people might look threatening, doing something like that, but Sam just looks… happy. Carefree, almost – and excited.

“Just how easily I could throw you around,” Sam is still speaking pretty loudly to be heard above the noise of the bar, but he’s pressed himself close up against Spencer’s side and leaned in like he’s whispering in his ear. The feeling of Sam’s breath on his neck is enough to make Spencer shiver, and coupled with the words themselves, Spencer thinks he might just fall off his chair.

Sam pulls back to look Spencer in the eye, and Spencer finally understands what that darkness behind Sam’s irises is – desire, attraction, hunger. Sam’s eyes flick down to where Spencer is licking his lips, a bad nervous habit of his. That desire clouds Sam’s expression even more and he starts to lean down, eyes still fixed on Spencer’s mouth, and a split second before it’s too late, Spencer reaches out and places his hands on Sam’s chest, stopping him short.

“Sorry, I just...” Spencer glances nervously back at Gideon and Morgan who are, thankfully, engrossed in conversation and not paying him any attention. He looks back at Sam and sees the understanding flit across his face.

“Follow me,” Sam checks around them and then reaches up and grabs Spencer’s hand. Spencer makes a small noise of shocked protest but Sam ignores it, leading them around the bar and out a door in the far corner.

They emerge into an ally, dark and shaded from the street lights, and Sam immediately pushes Spencer’s back against the door they just came out of. Spencer stares at him nervously, but doesn’t pull away. This is nothing he’s ever done before. This is what Morgan does, picking people up in bars and slinking off somewhere private to do god knows what. This isn’t Spencer. But Sam’s still looking at him with those bright, beautiful, hungry eyes and Spencer feels something stir in the pit of his stomach that he hasn’t felt for a long time. And as nervous as it makes him, he lets himself admit that he wants this too.

Sam moves closer in, pressing his front against Spencer’s, and he feels solid. Yeah, this guy might be pretty but he could absolutely throw Spencer around if he wanted to. He feels himself shudder against Sam and the fronts of their hips skate against each other, sending a jolt of want to the pit of Spencer’s stomach.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is low and soft, and it brings Spencer’s attention back to Sam’s face, which is only inches away now. “Is this okay?” Spencer nods, pleadingly, and Sam smiles. Sam’s hand comes up to his face and Spencer leans into it. His eyes slip closed as he relishes the warmth, this is more human contact than he’s had in months. And he doesn’t see it coming because his eyes are shut but then Sam’s lips are on his and wow – they feel amazing.

Spencer’s kissed people before but he’s never been kissed like this. Like he’s being devoured. Like he’s everything Sam could possibly want. And Sam is certainly everything Spencer could want. He pushes his hands up into Sam’s hair and pulls him in tighter. Sam moans against him and wedges their thighs together and Spencer swears that when he tugs on Sam’s hair again he can actually feel the twitch in Sam’s pants in response.

Sam is getting harder by the second and Spencer can feel Sam coaxing the same reaction out of his body. He juts his hips forward experimentally and the answering groan from Sam matches his own. Fuck, that feels good. And Sam feels big. Jesus Christ, Spencer doesn’t know how it’s possible for a guy to feel that big through that many layers of clothing and he can’t stop himself imagining how big he would be if he wasn’t trapped behind those jeans.

Sam grinds their hips together again and ducks his head to nip at Spencer’s neck, sucking a spot into the skin that’s visible above his collar.

“Oh my god,” Spencer whines, and he feels Sam grin against his throat, lips twitching in a smile.

“That feel good?” Sam murmurs against his skin, and when he ruts their cocks against each other again Spencer thinks he might die.

“God, yes,” Spencer pulls Sam’s lips back to his and kisses him hard and messy. Sam’s hands drag down Spencer’s chest and rub over his cock and Spencer’s breath actually chokes off in his throat.

“How far do you want this to go?” Sam asks against his lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

“I– I want…” Spencer knows what he wants but he’s scared to ask for it. He’s never done this before. The making out with a stranger in a dark ally part, or the more than ‘kissing and accidentally coming in your pants’ part. He doesn’t want to do that. What he wants is to drop to his knees and get Sam’s cock in his mouth. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to say it, so he goes for the next best thing.

Spencer drops to his knees with a thud, and looks up at Sam – panting, waiting.

“Fuck yes,” Sam moans and tears into his jeans, fists his cock out of his boxers and – yeah, he’s big. Shit, Spencer gulps, genuinely salivating at the thought of getting that between his lips. “This what you want?” Sam strokes himself in front of Spencer’s face and he can only nod, fascinated, not taking his eyes off the shiny red tip that is just begging to be sucked. “Alright Pretty Boy, let’s see what you got.”

Like my work? Consider supporting me with a blog membership!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j

All SPN (No Incest): @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

#spnkinkbingo #there-must-be-a-lock #follower challenge #spn x cm #sam winchester x spencer reid #sam x spencer

36 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

The Broken Soul of TK Strand 3/?

there's a little bit more torture in this chapter, but a lot less than in last 😊

ao3 | 3.4k

“TK, babe, wake up.”

It took him a few moments to open his eyes; he was so tired that he just wanted to sleep.

“Come on, it’s time to wake up, there are a lot of things to do today.”

Carlos’s voice was soothing, almost like a siren’s song, but not the kind that smashed ships against rocks, sending sailors to their deaths. This song was pleasant and warm and exactly what TK needed to feel better.

At last, he was able to open his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming or if he was awake. A figure moved next to him; TK turned, though the simple movement of his head provoked a tidal wave of sensations, all terrible and painful, and he closed his eyes again.

“Yeah, you have a bad concussion and if you don’t deal with it, it’s going to get worse. It could be irreversible.”

“Thanks, babe. I already knew that, you don’t need to remind me that I’m in a horrible mess.”

“I’m only telling you because with every day, every hour that passes, you get weaker and your brain is only going to want to sleep and rest. You can’t let that happen.”

TK opened his eyes again. Carlos looked at him, smiled, and TK saw him kneel down next to him. He could feel the touch on his cheek, though he knew that Carlos wasn’t here; he knew that it was part of his dream or the concussion. Still, it made him feel better all the same—it made him feel protected and that everything was going to be okay.

A loud ringing inside his head made TK clench his teeth so hard it hurt, but not even that got rid of the pain caused by the noise, which pierced his head clean through. He tried to curl his body into a ball, as if that would solve the problem.

TK didn’t know when the pain passed—or, rather, when he began to lose consciousness again without realising. Once awake, he tried to get to his feet, but it was an almost impossible task in his weakened state. Now, he was almost sure that the guy intended to leave him here to die.

He still didn’t understand the story about the ritual, probably because nothing about this dark lord made sense. Much less so now that TK was practically seeing double and could barely distinguish between what was real and what was in his head.

Whatever the case, since the previous day’s nightmare with the heart he had to eat and the wine he’d been forced to drink, not to mention whatever had been done to his shoulder blade, the guy hadn’t come back to pay him a visit, and TK feared that he had abandoned him to die.

(TK would give anything for a mirror to see what was on his back—it hurt horrible, it burned, but maybe that too was because of the concussion)

He tried to remember what he knew about concussion and how much time a person could suffer one before it became truly dangerous. Something told him that he had already passed that limit, but he had to keep fighting, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that Carlos and his father were doing everything they could to find him and save him.

So TK had to use all his strength to fight against everything inside of him that told him to just give up.

“Yes, yes, my lord. His blood is perfect, I did that test that you asked and it is exactly what we were searching for… what you were searching for, forgive me, what you were searching for.”

TK got closer to the door, dragging himself along the floor so he could listen to the man’s voice.

“Tonight we will get his tears and the blood we need for the ritual and tomorrow… Oh, my lord, tomorrow you will rule this world.”

TK only heard his voice—he must be talking to himself, or worse, he thought he was talking to someone else. He was crazy enough to hear voices in his head, after all.

He lay back down on the floor and gazed up at the ceiling. It was interesting how the smell of blood and all the other things around him didn’t bother him anymore; how easily humans get used to horrible things like that.

“He’s going to kill me here and leave me to bleed out.”

“And you’re going to let him?”

Carlos sat by TK’s side and took his hand, stroking and kissing it. TK could feel the actions clearly, which was definitely a bad sign; he was getting worse, as everything that wasn’t here seemed all too real.

He smiled—it felt like the times when he had taken pills and then lay on the sofa, calm and happy from the substances running through his veins. It was like being drugged again and, just like then, as if he had gotten too carried away that he could end up dead.

“I’m so scared, babe.”

“I know; that’s why I’m here. You created me.” Carlos stretched out his hand and, when TK took it, pulled him close and hugged him. It felt so real, and TK would have given anything for it to last forever. “I know you think that you aren’t strong enough to fight and beat this by yourself, but there are few people as strong and brave as you, TK. You can do it, you can hold on until your father and I find you.”

“I don’t know, babe, I’m so tired.”

“Do it for me.”

Carlos’s figure began to fade as TK’s brain took control again. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before he short-circuited again.

TK decided not to lie back down—if he forced himself to stay sitting up, then maybe his body would fight for longer to stay awake, thus giving Carlos more time to find him, just as his boyfriend’s image had said.

“Carlos,” Nancy called, upon seeing him leaving. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

The cop turned around—he’d spent half of his time in the station, and the other half in the precinct, as the idea of going home hurt too much. Knowing that TK wasn’t there and wasn’t going to return at the end of his shift… Carlos couldn’t do it.

“Of course, I was just going to the precinct to see if they had anything new. Is everything okay?” He huffed a bitter laugh after saying that—of course nothing was okay. “Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“It’s okay. I actually wanted to see how you were.” Nancy offered him a cup of coffee. “The truth is that I didn’t know who to talk to. I don’t know Captain Strand very well so it would feel weird talking to him, and the others… They’re all busy all the time; if it’s not work, it’s trying to find TK. I think they’re trying to do anything so they don’t think about it, but I can’t. I don’t know how, I just feel paralysed.”

“I understand.”

“I’m so sorry, Carlos. You’re going through something so awful and here I am, going on about my stupid problems.”

“They’re not at all stupid.” They moved to sit in the now-empty kitchen, and Carlos smiled. “Really, I’m happy to talk about how other people are doing; everyone is treating me as if I’m made of glass so they don’t tell me anything and only talk to me if it’s to ask if I need anything. The only thing I need right now is to have TK here, with me; everything else is irrelevant.”

Nancy sighed. “Do you know, the last time I spoke to TK before...before all this happened, it was to argue with him?” She took a sip of her coffee, not looking at Carlos. “I’d put the bandages in an order in the ambulance drawers and he was changing it. I told him that my way was easier, he told me his way was the rule, and I said that we would end up losing time when we couldn’t afford to.

“Then he said that we should ask Cap and I got angry, telling him that I was the one who’d been in the team for longer and I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to put away the bandages. I’d had a bad day, my roommate left and only told me that morning. I took it out on TK and I never got the chance to tell him how sorry I was. It was really stupid, and it was the last thing I said to him before…”

Carlos reached out and placed his hand on top of Nancy’s. “Me too. I didn’t argue with him but I know that I made him feel bad the last time we talked.” He scoffed. “How little an anniversary matters when you don’t know if your boyfriend is going to come home again.”

Nancy nodded. She didn’t know that feeling exactly, but she did have an idea of what Carlos was going through. “We’re going to find him, right, Carlos?”

“I won’t stop until we do.”

Carlos stared down into his half-empty coffee cup for a moment, as if he could read the grounds and have them tell him where TK was.

“You’re still here?”

Carlos turned again, seeing Owen with a look typical of a father whose son didn’t pay attention to him and continued playing video games instead of getting reading for school.

“I’m sorry, Owen, I just…” Carlos sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders. “I can’t go home, I can’t even open the door without… I’ve always had anxiety attacks, but it’s been so long that I’d almost forgotten what they were like. Now, everytime I go home, I try to open the door, but knowing that TK isn’t there, that he isn’t coming back—that he might never come back… I can’t do it, Owen.”

The captain approached the table. Nancy prepared to leave, but he gestured for her to stay. “I understand. I haven’t been able to go home either without thinking that...that TK has escaped and come home. I know he hasn’t, so I can’t go in. I’ve been sleeping here—what little sleep I’ve managed, anyway. Go up and lie down for a while. You need to sleep.”

Carlos nodded because he needed to sleep, because he wanted to stay here, and because Owen felt exactly the same as he did, though they hadn’t been able to talk about it until now.

He accepted the offer and said goodbye to Nancy, thanking her for the talk. He headed to the bunkroom above and lay down in the first bed he found, knowing that it didn’t belong to TK.

He must have fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow; he didn’t even have time to take off his shoes. He was so tired, and he had spent so long fighting it that once he decided to sleep, he fell completely into dreams.

Carlos felt himself fall, like Alice down the rabbit hold, ending up seated on the floor. He heard a sob that he recognised immediately and got to his feet, spinning around to find him. But he didn’t see anything; it was so dark that Carlos could only hear the sobbing voice as it came closer and closer.

“TK! Babe, I’m here, can you hear me?”

The cries became more intense, followed by a shout that had Carlos’s hair standing on end. There was no doubt that it was TK’s voice—someone was hurting him. Carlos spun around again, searching for something, anything, in between the total darkness.

“No, please… Don’t hurt me.” TK sounded like he was behind Carlos, but when he turned, TK wasn’t there.

He walked everywhere, but he still saw nothing. The only thing that caught his attention was the floor he was walking on—it seemed like old wood, and at the same time like the forest floor. He was in a cabin that had been abandoned years ago.

Carlos was at the point of screaming when he noticed hands wrapping around his waist from behind—just like he would recognise TK’s voice anywhere, he also knew the feel of his hands and his mouth which now kissed his neck.

Carlos turned, and there he was. But it wasn’t the same TK he remembered from two days ago. Although he was smiling, this TK was emaciated and tired-looking, he had many cuts and wounds, he was pale, and it seemed like he had lost the flow that always surrounded him.

He caressed his cheek and TK pressed his face against Carlos’s hand, like a dog seeking comfort from their person.

“What have they done to you?”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m waiting for you… I’m tired and I know that he wants to kill me but I’m waiting for you because I know you’ll find me and save me.”

“Of course I will, babe. We’re all doing everything we can to get to you; Grace is pulling double shifts in case she gets a call that could help and the others…”

“Only you can save him, Carlos.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m tired, that man...he’s crazy. We should have realised that first day when we saw him at the fire. I recognise him now. I saw him when he took me, he’d covered his face with a hood, but I saw him and I know it’s him. Remember?” TK came closer, legs shaking; if it weren’t for Carlos holding him, he would have fallen.

Carlos sat down and held TK in his arms. If he could take him away from here through the dream, he would do it; instead, he squeezed him tight and kissed his head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Ty.”

“The man from the fire. I pointed him out to you, remember? I told you that he was weird and he seemed too interested in what we were doing.”

Carlos shook his head; he had too many things on his mind to remember a conversation from three days ago.

“It’s the same guy who took me. He covered himself so he wouldn’t be seen, but when he hit me, I saw his face. You can see him too, my love. You can see him...you can see him...you can…”

TK’s body vanished. Carlos shouted and called out, but TK didn’t return. He shouted and screamed until his throat was sore, until he was awake in the station, surrounded by Owen, Tommy, and all his friends. They were looking at him as if they were seeing a ghost.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to sleep,” Carlos said, smiling as if nothing had happened, but his breathing was still shaky and faltering.

Marjan handed him a glass of water which Carlos almost drank in one.

Then he realised.

The vision, the dream—it had been his own mind working. He had been so worried, hoping that someone would give him any clue as to TK’s whereabouts that he hadn’t realised that he himself had seen the kidnappers face. He had seen him twice, as the TK in his dream had said, and he had the image in his head, but it was also in the video.

“We know who the kidnapper is, we have his face.”

Carlos leapt up and raced down the stairs, asking Owen if he wanted to accompany him to the station, though there was no need for a reply as the two climbed into the car. They only had to watch the video of the kidnapping and find the videos from the fire—that man would be in both.

When the guy finished the next part of the ritual that night, TK wasn’t aware of his exit. He’d taken even more blood, too much to remain awake and alert. TK had begged him not to kill him, to let him live, but nothing had worked. The guy’s mind was high on the idea that some creature from Hell needed TK’s blood to come to Earth.

There had been nothing TK could say or do to make him change his mind.

The final part of the ritual was terrible for TK. If he thought that drinking wine and eating a raw heart had been the worst that could happen, he was sorely mistaken—the worst was yet to come.

After listening to him talk, TK had wondered what he meant by getting his tears, but the answer was so simple that he didn’t even think of it.

The guy, covered by a hood, entered. He didn’t say anything this time, like he was in a rush, but TK didn’t have the strength nor the will to ask. He had a box in his hand which he left on the floor next to him. TK tried to sit up—putting a few centimetres wasn’t going to make much difference, but he needed to fight until the end.

Little good it did him. The man kept watching him, and TK realised that his eyes had changed. Last time he had seen him, the man seemed to love him like a sacred idol, but now he had the look of an animal, like someone prepared to do anything without remorse.

He grabbed him by the neck and pushed him against the wall; TK was so weak that the guy barely needed to make any effort to move him. He took out the same knife from last time and pressed it against his neck.

“Give me your tears.”

“What? You want me to cry?”

“You have to cry,” the man demanded, pressing the knife a little harder against his neck. “I can hurt you until I get them as long as you’re still alive for me to extract the blood I need.”

“Please…”

The blade dug into TK’s skin, causing a small cut.

“I have you under my control. I know who your boyfriend is and, if this ritual goes wrong, if after everything I’ve done, my lord can’t come to this world, I assure you that what I will do to your boyfriend will be much worse than anything I’m doing to you. I suggest that you give me your tears; your blood I can take when and however I want.”

As is emphasising his words, the man delivered a blow to TK’s abdomen, making him bend double.

“You’re beautiful, kid, the best possible offering to our lord, so I hate to hurt you. But if you give me no other choice, I will have to take longer to finish the ritual.”

“Please...stop.” The pain in his head was killing him and his vision was blurred, little white lights dancing everywhere, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Whether it was for fear that something could happen to Carlos, fear for himself, the pain, or the exhaustion, TK began to cry, and the man placed a small flask to his cheek to collect the tears.

He left him lying on the floor for a moment. He hadn’t collected more than a few tears, but he seemed happy, until, without warning, he made a deep cut on TK’s arm and held it over a tub.

“This won’t take long.”

“What are you doing? Let me go, please.”

TK didn’t know when he lost consciousness again, but he thought that it would be the last time, that he wouldn’t wake up. He could tell; he was too weak to stand another session of this torture.

Either way, he was sure that the stranger was going to let him die, or would finish the job soon enough. That closed the window of probability that his father and Carlos could rescue him.

However, if he had been conscious, TK would have heard the sound of vehicles in the distance and the two helicopters that were beginning to close in on the area. He also would have noticed that his kidnapper was rushing desperately around the house; he would have heard the sound of his feet hitting the floor, and he would have seen the agony he felt over being discovered before he could finish his ritual.

But TK was fighting for his life with a concussion that clouded his thoughts and blood loss that could kill him while he slept. Time had run out, and it was better to sleep and dream of Carlos than it was to bear even more pain.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #owen strand #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

11 notes · View notes

rainbowcarousels · 3 years

Text

For @strands-of-starlight who requested more of Genesis and Cloud figuring out their romantic/intimate relationship with each other. This has mostly translated to ‘If Sephiroth gets a sweet 3am moment, I want one too!’ on his part. Hopefully this fit the bill. Enjoy!

---

“Getting stared at while I'm trying to sleep is not a turn on,” Cloud announced.

While he couldn't be exactly sure who had gotten onto the bed without opening his eyes, there were a couple of clues. It wasn't Zack, because with a few shaky steps under his belt, Zack had taken to jumping and wrapping himself around him. Aside from Zack, each of the others smelled a little different in a way he was starting to notice. Angeal frequently smelled floral, either from some kind of gardening or from the dish soap in the kitchen which it had taken him a couple of crazy, hazy days to pinpoint the origin of. Despite what his fan club newsletters said, Sephiroth didn't smell much like anything. Just....clean, crisp, something almost metallic underlining it and maybe that floral from what he'd realised was a habit of stealing Angeal's clothes when he wasn't in uniform. It was neither of these, something warm and a little cloying, like ginger and caramel.

So Genesis's voice wasn't exactly a surprise. “Your senses are improving,” he said, quietly. Perhaps someone was resting in the front room. As soon as he'd begun to feel better, he had offered to leave but had been told absolutely not. He couldn't complain. Literally, he had tried offering to help with things and telling them he'd manage only to be firmly rebuffed. “Let me see your eyes?”

Cloud opened them more because he didn't think sleep was going to happen with Genesis having pulled himself to lay on the bed facing him. “Is this where you feed me a line about them being like the ocean depths?”

“They are somewhat,” Genesis staring at his eyes made him want to fidget, so he tried to stay still under it. “The ocean is a beautiful thing. Mysterious, deep, the promise of something just beyond the horizon. No matter where the winds may blow, my friend –“

“–your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess.” Cloud finished for him, because between having it read to him several times and having looked at it a really embarrassing amount of times, he could remember parts of it already.

From the way Genesis was looking at him, lips parted slightly, staring, maybe he hadn't realised he was paying attention. “Were you reading it?” he asked.

“You left me your copy,” Cloud said, trying to keep the defensiveness from his voice. It hadn't taken him long to realise it was something important, from the way the pages barely kept to the books spine to the uneven writing of a child declaring it the property of Genesis Rhapsodos, so the least he could do was look over it.

“Do you like it?” Genesis asked. Answering that felt like something that definitely had a right or a wrong answer.

“I don't know,” Cloud admitted. “I don't know if I understand it in the right way.”

“There is no right way,” Genesis told him. “There is only what it means to you.”

Cloud stopped and thought about it, but everything he thought seemed obvious. War can tear lives apart and compassion can help you rebuild, how important it is to keep your promises (and boy didn't he owe a big one back in Nibelheim), that even if something hurts if it's the right thing you're supposed to do it and that without dreams and honour – thanks Zack for helping drum that into his head – even heroes can end up corrupted by grief and loss. None of that meant much to him. It all sounded like a grand design and he was just some dumb guy who thought he might be a hero and instead, almost ended up getting turned into mincemeat by a mad scientist.

“It doesn't mean much to me,” Cloud said. “But I know it means a lot to you, so it's that makes it important to me.”

“I'm...”Genesis swallowed thickly. “Unsure how to repay such a statement of devotion.”

Was that pushing to hard? Something in his gut sparked, a fear that even curled up here, rejection could rear it's ugly head because he was trying to grab for too much at once.

“All I did was read,” Cloud said. “And listen.”

“And engage with something that isn't to your tastes,” Genesis said. “If I had a gil every time someone was listening to me without hearing me, I'd be richer than the President.”

“Maybe if you stopped repeating the same four acts, people would listen more.” Cloud suggested.

Genesis rolled his eyes, “You listened.”

“Upside of being an army grunt,” Cloud said. “No one ever thinks I'm listening. You should throw out a few curve balls if no one will notice to see what you can get away with.”

“I do sometimes,” Genesis smiled at him, but it was soft, private, less of a smirk. “I'm afraid don't know what is so important to you that I ought to be making time for it.”

Cloud shrugged, letting the bed move. “Me either.”

“I'm sure there is something deep in your heart that calls to you,” Genesis said. “Perhaps that is a journey we could take together,”

“I don't know if there is,” Cloud admitted. Sometimes it felt as if he was just hollow, but others, it felt as if his heart was so full it might burst bloody from his chest. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Genesis echoed. “Perhaps it's just not something you can vocalise. Some truths are bigger than the mere words we would try to describe them with.”

That felt true. If nothing else, that felt true right to the core of him. Then if that was true, maybe he could show it in other ways. Not poetry, he really didn't have the patience for it, but maybe something physical.

Cloud pressed his hand onto Genesis's hip and pulled him a little close, surprised by the lack of resistance. That could be the sheets but if Genesis minded being pulled close, Cloud was pretty sure he had no problem speaking up for it.

Looking at his expression, maybe he could even hear what Cloud was trying to say when the words still felt too big to say.

#strifesodos #askbox fic #Genesis Rhapsodos #cloud strife #Final Fantasy 7 #fic: just be still with me #(loosely)

59 notes · View notes