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hwaslayer · 10 months

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project: make you love me (jyh) | two.

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—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 3.6k

—chapter content/warnings: nothing too bad since we're still in the beginning stages of things lol, cussing, friends being supportive, friends being instigators and projecting!!, hwa still being hwa, yunho being shy and awkward but very caring

You scrambled to get your literature review done, almost forgetting that you had to send it to Yunho before officially submitting it to your professor. It's a bit past midnight when Seonghwa decides it's time to drop you off— even if it gets incredibly late, he'd prefer to drop you off at home rather than let you stay.

All Seonghwa's bullshit plans.

You yawn as you quietly step into your shared apartment, careful not to wake your roommates as you pull out your laptop and finish your lit review on the kitchen island in the dark. It fucking sucks that absolutely nothing is coming to you for this review because now, Yunho is probably going to think you're just flat out dumb for not being able to see what everyone else sees.

"Hey." You whip your head up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. Seungmin groggily walks out of his room and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. "Why are you working out here in the dark? Did you just get home?" You nod.

"Mhm. Forgot I had to finish that literature review and send it to Yunho."

"Forgot already?"

"Shut up, okay? Not my favorite assignment to work on. Besides, I wanna give him some time to review it and chew my ass if he needs to. Rather him than Dr. Nelson at this point." You type away, probably hella nonsense and gibberish about the movie at this point.

"Hm." Seungmin hums as he quickly drinks his water. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Just gonna give this a few more words then send it off." You sigh. God, you almost regret asking Yunho [out of all people] for help. He's super smart and he always knows what he's doing. Was this the right route to go? Maybe you should've just asked Dr. Nelson and dealt with it.

"Mkay. Goodnight then, Y/N." Seungmin yawns as he drags himself back to his shared room with Soobin. You decide that you're gonna take another 10 minutes to finish off the review, giving it everything you can think of right now. If it needs tweaking or any additional details, Yunho can surely step in and help. You feel exhaustion hitting you quickly, giving your review the last bout of energy you have left before you shower and call it a night.

"Done." You say to yourself, sending it off to Yunho as an attachment.

He probably won't look at this until later.

You make sure to double check your emails and assignments, keeping track of everything that's due and needs to be turned in—

Ding.

You peep the notification that pops up on the bottom right of your laptop screen.

"1 New Email from: Jeong Yunho ([email protected])"

"What the fuck?" You mutter to yourself. It hasn't been a whole 10 minutes since you sent the email. You click on the notification anyway, letting it bring you to the new email in your student inbox.

— do you have time to meet really quickly later today? i wanna go over your review with you. cool if you can't though, just prefer to talk to you in person instead of marking up your page without any explanation to back it up.

You sigh and sit there, trying to remember your schedule for tomorrow. You do have a 45 minute break in between your morning classes. Hopefully, he's free.

— sure! i'm free from 10:15-11. does that work for you?

"1 New Email from Jeong Yunho ([email protected])"

— yup, i don't have class till after lunch. i'll be working at one of the booths in the library.

You sit back and respond, feeling a bit of relief.

— cool, see you. :) thanks for your help.

Yunho sits at his desk, feeling a bit awkward and nervous even though you can't see him right now. It's probably a little pathetic at how quick he opened up your email, but to be fair, you seemed like you really needed the help and that's what he wanted to give you. You aren't necessarily writing bad reviews, since you're hitting all the right points. But, he has Dr. Nelson figured out. He doesn't want just the facts— he wants you to think outside of the box, write out the emotions, feelings, outcomes of all the actions, give examples, state what your thoughts are on how this effects the surroundings, other characters. You just need to add that little umph to your reviews and give him more than the bare minimum. Yunho gets it though, it's not easy to tap into that all the time. That's why he's here to help.

He's hoping he can be the help you need.

"Did you come in pretty late last night or was Seungmin sleep walking?" Soobin scratches the side of his head as the two of you walk towards the library.

"No, that was me." You chuckle.

"Did Seonghwa at least walk you to the door? Cause that's late."

"Yeah right." You scoff and Soobin shakes his head. "Whatever though, he drops me off as close as possible to our building."

"Still. He should at least walk you halfway."

"Mm, yeah." Is all you respond with. "Anyway, lunch later? I have to meet with Yunho to talk about this review."

"Oh? You're actually meeting with him? That's new. I feel like that's something out of the ordinary for Yunho."

"He asked if we could so that he could explain better instead of just marking up my review."

"That's nice of him."

"Yeah, hopefully I'm not too much of a pain in the ass."

"Doubt it. You just need a little guidance, that's all. Sure he'll be super helpful." Soobin smirks. "He seems to not go out of his way for people, maybe he likes you."

"Are you serious right now? All because I need help over a literature review." Soobin laughs.

"Just saying. I already like Yunho way more than Seonghwa."

"Okay, I'm leaving. I'll see you later." You roll your eyes and enter the quieter side of the library where the booths are located. It's easy to spot Yunho, especially with that towering figure of his even while sitting. Today, he's wearing a navy and white flannel, with a grey shirt underneath. His hair falls to his face as he leans over to write some notes. He has one finger placed on a page in his textbook, while the other hand is busily writing away. He glances to and from every now and then, only looking up at his surroundings when he feels you approaching.

"Um, hi." You awkwardly stand near the booth with your books tucked against your chest. He simply looks at you before giving you a tiny, pursed smile and returning his attention to his books.

"Hey." He moves his book and notebook closer to himself in order to give you some room. "Sorry, just need to finish this right quick."

"That's okay. Take your time." You slide in awkwardly and set your books on the surface of the table. "Thanks for going over my review."

"No worries." He says softly before finishing up his notes and shutting his books closed. He brings out his laptop and types away to unlock it, pulling up your document before turning the laptop towards you. "So."

"Sorry, I know it was bad." You look at him, a little shy and embarrassed. He tilts his head a bit and furrows his brow while looking at you.

"Huh? No, it wasn't bad, Y/N." He lets out a small chuckle. "You're hitting the right points, Dr. Nelson is just super complex and wants you to use these facts a bit more." He points at a line in your review. "You talk about the characters feelings here after an upsetting moment, which is right. But, how does it affect their surroundings? Their actions, the people around them, what they get themselves into to cope. How does feeling bad branch out to all these things? Why? How does it contribute to their overall attitude, to the overall character?" You nod.

"It seems so easy to talk about, but I don't know why I have so much trouble doing it. I feel kinda dumb." He shrugs.

"You're not. You just have to dig into the details a little more and use those examples instead of staying safe and stating what we know already. It's easy to stay safe because you know what you're stating is gonna be right. Dr. Nelson just wants a little more than that, is all."

"Thanks, Yunho." He gives you a toothless smile.

"Of course. Uh," He scratches his temple. "Let's go through everything else? So, I can be of better help to you?" You nod.

"Only if you're okay with it."

"Yeah. Just wanna make sure I help you out correctly." He lets out a shy chuckle before thoroughly going through your literature review with you. He asks you the right questions, allowing you to edit your own document on his laptop while the two of you continue to converse. He shares his thoughts and the things he's included on his review, making it easier for you to understand what you were missing and leaving out in your own.

Literature was never your favorite. You partially didn't care enough to put in enough effort, hence the lack of patience and understanding with the assignments— the lack of patience and understanding with your own professor.

As 11 closes in, you sit and look at your fully edited review feeling content. You look at Yunho, a small toothless smile on your face while he awkwardly glances around the library to avoid long eye contact. He gently taps his hands against the surface of the table, waiting for you to break the silence.

Which, you eventually do.

Thank god.

"Yunho, I feel so much better about this." You slide the laptop over to him. "Thanks for helping me, seriously. I don't know what I'd do if I had to see Dr. Nelson's comments again."

"It's not a problem." He shrugs. "I um, can continue to look at your reviews if you want?" Your eyes light up as you nod delightfully.

"Really?"

"Sure."

"I have to repay you somehow, that's too much on your plate isn't it?"

"It's not. I wouldn't offer if it was." He chuckles a bit.

"Lunch one day?"

"You don't have to."

"I would like to. Or, if our schedules don't work, we can always meet for coffee and go in on the café desserts."

"Sounds good." He smiles and pulls out his phone to slide it towards you. "Mm, do you think I can grab your number? Sorry, don't mean to be lame about it. I just figured it'd be easier instead of emailing each other. Unless that's what you.. prefer?" You chuckle and shake your head.

"No, this is totally easier. Don't worry." You plug your number in before sliding it back to me. "There."

"That's me." He says after giving you a quick ring so you can save his number on your own phone. You start to gather your things to start heading to class when you hear a familiar laugh come from one of the aisles to your right. You turn over your shoulder to catch wind of the noise, finding Seonghwa deep in conversation with another classmate, another senior girl [actually this one is probably Hyeri?] She seems to be laughing at his jokes, even though they probably aren't that funny. Somehow, the way he looks at her [along with any other female who isn't you] breaks your heart.

Breaks your heart even though there isn't anything else left to break.

Seonghwa briefly makes eye contact with you before his eyes quickly dart to Yunho, then back to Hyeri in front of him. You quietly continue to gather your things and swallow the lump forming in your throat, unsure why you allow this feeling to completely ruin your mood. Yunho takes note, for sure though. Again, he's not sure if he should feel bad because you surely knew what it was like getting tangled with Seonghwa. That was no secret on campus. However, he's an empath, and seeing that you've been kind and calm around him— he can't help but feel bad. A tiny bit sad, upset even, that you continue to let yourself mess around with Seonghwa when you deserve so much more.

Yunho challenges Seonghwa a bit though, letting his eyes linger on him until Seonghwa breaks away first. He checks on you and parts his lips slightly because he wants to say something, anything— he's just not sure what. Eventually, he settles with:

"Are you okay?" It's clear you're not and Yunho immediately feels stupid as fuck for settling with that question.

"Hm, yeah. Just tired, is all." He nods, watching as you slide out of the booth and swing your bag strap over your shoulder.

"Don't hesitate to text me if you need anything else. I'll try and help." When he says it, he's hoping you can catch onto the fact that he's someone who could listen to your troubles. He's not good with words or opening up to people, but he thinks he could at least offer that after seeing the way you sank in front of him. His eyes dart back up to you when you tuck your books back to your chest and smile at him.

"I will. Thanks again, Yunho. Lunch or coffee soon, okay?" You say sweetly before leaving him back to his lonesome.

"How was your date with Yunho?" Soobin asks as he forks his salad and takes a big bite. You glare at him before shaking your head.

"This is how rumors spread, you idiot." Chaery smacks him on the back of the head, making him laugh but slightly wince in pain at the same time.

"I'll whoop your ass if you say that word and Yunho in the same sentence one more time." You roll your eyes. "My literature review session with him went fine. He did help me out a lot, practically added another page to my review from all the edits we made."

"That's good." Soobin says, laughing. "Are you gonna have him review your literature stuff from now on?"

"Probably, it comes so easy for him. Or, maybe I just lack the patience." You shrug. "But, his help would definitely be nice. I need to push my grade up."

"Mhm." Soobin wiggles his brows.

"He's pushing this Yunho agenda so much." You point at Soobin while looking at Chaery and she shrugs.

"I mean don't get me wrong, I'm on the same bloat." You glare at her. "But, I'm on your side more than anything!" She quickly bounces back, making you sigh.

"I give up." You mumble as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand. Suddenly, your phone vibrates off to the side, making you lazily tap your screen to see who the notification is from.

"Better not be Seonghwa." You glare at Chaery once again.

"I'm taking this to the couch." You stick your tongue out before grabbing your phone and walking over to the couch in the living room. Because it's not, and you don't really wanna deal with your teasing friends even more.

yunho: btw, i like this website if i don't really wanna dig too deep into the details

yunho: it's a good website that summarizes a lot of the themes in books, and they have a huge catalog

You smile and respond back, feeling appreciative that he thought of you.

yunho: srry for the triple text, hope i didnt bother

you: you didn't. thank you, yunho :) i'll bookmark this that way i won't have to bother you so much lol

yunho: you're not a bother haha but np. have a good night!

you: you too!

Then, another comes in. And of course it's Seonghwa. But, the message isn't your typical message, no. It's a message that easily rubs you the wrong way because why? Why does Seonghwa like to pull this shit?

seonghwa: since when did you talk to jeong yunho? lol

you: why does it matter?

seonghwa: it's a simple question?

you: you're ridiculous, you know? we're in the lit same class. again, not that it matters .. ?

seonghwa: how am i ridiculous? lol

you: whatever seonghwa

seonghwa: why are you upset, baby? i'm just asking. i don't see what yunho's point is

you: he has no point, he's just helping me out.

seonghwa: okay, sure lol do you wanna come over? could use your company ):

you: not tonight

you: maybe you can call hyeri, or whatever her name is. i'm spending time with my roommates

seonghwa: baby, seriously? i was talking to a classmate. can we not fight over dumb shit again?

you: goodnight seonghwa

You sigh out of irritation, tossing your phone aside. It's a bit close to 10pm, but you feel like getting some fresh air and taking a quick walk around the complex would do you some good.

"Chaery, can we take a walk?" She looks at you and nods.

"Sure."

"What about me?" Soobin asks with a mouth full.

"You're eating."

"I can take it with me."

"It's girl talk." He cringes a bit and shakes his head.

"Nevermind. Be safe, come back soon." You chuckle just as Chaery walks out of your shared room in a hoodie. She has one of your jackets in your hand, handing it over as she gets closer.

"It's a bit cold tonight. Jacket?"

"Thanks." You smile at her as you throw it on and zip it up, sliding into your slippers before walking out. Chaery is right; the air is colder, crisp. It has a little bite, especially against your skin. Chaery wraps her arm around yours, pulling you close for extra body heat.

"What happened, babe?"

"Huh?"

"You told Soobin it was girl talk." You laugh a bit and nod.

"Oh yeah, right. It is." You sigh as you hold her close. "Nothing, it's just Seonghwa. He texted me just to ask when I started talking to Yunho and what his point was. Got on my nerve."

"Ew, what's his problem? Y/N, seriously. You can do so much better than him. I know it's not easy, and I know he has his moments with you. But baby, you deserve someone who is always sure about you and who will be happy to flaunt you off."

"I know." You sigh. "It's like every time I think about leaving, he does something to keep me close."

"But, it shouldn't be this way, you know? You shouldn't have to wait for these moments. It should happen every day if he really cared about you."

"Yeah." Is all you can say because what can you say? It's hard to break it off with Seonghwa because this is your routine, something you've gotten used to— his presence is something you've gotten accustomed to. Even if it he isn't necessarily the best, he keeps you company. The kind of company that you like.

"How was meeting up with Yunho? Did he help you with your review?"

"A lot. He is super helpful, and he offered to keep helping me."

"Aw." Chaery giggles. "That is so sweet of him."

"He's actually really kind, and patient. I offered to take him out for lunch or something one day."

"Cute. Yeah, you should! Get to know him. Maybe he just needs a little pushing out of his shell, you know? You could probably help him in return." You shrug.

"Maybe? He's still—" Suddenly, Chaery's eyes shoot up to the figure ahead. She does a little gasp before making a cute noise and dragging you closer.

"Yunho!" She says, waving at him. He looks a little startled, but he stops in his tracks and waits with his hands in his pockets— a shy, small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. "Wait, oh my god! I didn't realize you lived here, too! I mean, so does the majority of campus, but still!" You sure as hell didn't know either, and you feel a bit bad that you just probably never noticed.

"Uh, yeah. I just live over there." He points at his building.

"Who do you live with?"

"Kang Yeosang." Chaery nods.

"Ah, cute. What a pair." You give her a look before shifting your attention back to Yunho. He quietly waits for the next part of the conversation, his eyes softly gazing over you.

You're cute.

"What are you doing out here this late?"

"Could ask the same for you two." He chuckles and nervously scratches at the nape of his neck. "I, uh, can't sleep sometimes. The walk kinda helps."

"Ah, I see. Makes sense."

"So.." He awkwardly says, shifting weight from one foot to another. "Also couldn't sleep?" You shrug.

"We just needed to get out and get some air." Chaery cuts in for a follow-up to avoid any Seonghwa talk. Though, she knows Yunho wouldn't do that to you.

"It's getting late though, and pretty cold."

"We're just gonna walk to the end then walk back."

"Hm, okay."

"It was nice running into you." Chaery smiles. "I hope you can get some rest tonight!"

"Hopefully. Have a good night." He looks at her, then you; he gives you a very tiny, very subtle nod of acknowledgement. With that, the two of you walk past to continue your walk, Chaery praising how gentle and good-looking Yunho is until the end of the walk. Yunho knows the community is safe, but he cuts his walk short just to head up to his building and get a better view of yours. He hangs over the railing near the stairs, catching sight of you and Chaery. He watches as you circle back around to your building, slowly heading up the stairs. He can hear your laughs from where he stands, and he's glad you seem to be okay tonight.

It's good that you have great friends by your side.

When your figures disappear into the hallway, Yunho feels content, relieved— knowing you've both made it safely home. He turns on his heel to make it to his own apartment, greeted by a dark living room with echoes of Yeosang yelling at his PC.

At least you're okay.

At least you're not outside, waiting in the cold.

At least you're with good company.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie [bold = can’t tag 😭]

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez fanfic #ateez #yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #yunho smut #yunho fluff #yunho angst #jeong yunho fluff #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho angst #hwaslayer: project make you love me

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fandomwritingbit · 10 months

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Caught out pt.2

William afton x fem reader x henry emily

A/n: Hiii, this is a part two of this fic I did a while ago. It's really long ngl over 7,000 words. To the person that requested a part two to this that focused more on the relationship between Henry and Will, I took some inspiration from that so thank you very muchly. I hope this reads well, I'll be editing it over the next few days because writer's block is shagging me hard rn.

Warnings: smut, oral, unprotected sex, inappropriate relationships, sexual tension between henry and william, y/n is absolute filth.

The day after Henry had debased himself, started off pretty shit. The restaurant was fully booked all day and it felt like there were over a million kids tearing through the building and creating havoc, along with many other reasons for the two co-owners to stay back after hours. They were so understaffed, two waiters and an entertainer had called in sick, forcing Henry and Will to step up a bit. Well, Henry stepped up, running plates, hosting, the works; William, though he was present, just cracked the whip on the employees that were there. Both had contemplated getting you out of the security office to help out, but the plethora of legal challenges they’d seen in the previous few weeks dissuaded them.

“Who’s fault is this?” William caught Henry’s arm, his expression as fumingly stoic as it had been so far all day. It was this side of William that initially drove Henry into merging with him, the no-nonsense, no-bullshit, pragmatic approach that he was too nice to use. When they were newly joined, grabbing his arm like this would have made Henry shit scared, just the sheer height of the man alone would’ve done it; now though, Henry just looked from his hand to Will’s face, scoffing.

“Tiff was on bookings, I’m gonna have a word with her.” He pulled his arm free, “You do know, William, that we can’t have high numbers and easy service.”

William sniggered, slightly surprised by Henry’s attitude, “Functional service would be nice, though.”

All shit hit the fan about midday.

And it hit the fan big time. A party of thirty and one of seventeen at the same time had all hands on deck, waiters sweating making sure patrons had everything they needed, bar staff making so many drinks that there wasn’t a gap left on the bar, and Henry and William were trying to cope with everything in between. Namely, trying to keep kids out of staff-only areas or from running full pelt into the servers carrying food and drinks, and keeping feuding chefs calm in the kitchen. The latter Henry’s domain, for obvious reasons. So when the shifty looking fellow slipped inside the building, it went unnoticed.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s shrill voice called to William, obligating him to approach the table. He didn’t smile at her because the look on her face said this wasn’t a ‘compliments to the chef’ kind of thing.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“There’s plastic in my son’s pizza.” She pointed a thickly painted nail at the slice, showing the cling film sticking out underneath. Fuck’s sake.

He nodded, “Right. I’ll get you a new one.” As he spoke, he picked up the plate and the one with the rest of the pizza on it, cursing this whole fucking operation.

“Got anything that doesn’t come out of a freezer?” she snapped, looking at him with such disapproval he felt a kid again.

He just laughed at her. God, it was a £5 meal, she’s lucky they even heated it up for that. Neglecting to answer her, he gave a half-arsed apology and went towards the back kitchen to sort her out.

Whilst this took place, a man with black gloves waited for the boy on the till to leave before wrenching the till open, shoving his hand inside to grab a fist-full of today’s earnings. The staff were too distracted to cop on, and alarm was only raised when the thief knocked into a server.

“Hey what are you-” shoving her out the way, the figure moved towards the exit. The young lady got the attention of other staff who called out to the man but didn’t physically intervene, forcing the waitress to run to the kitchen and drag William out by his arm, babbling about what was happening.

He gave chase, following the thief out of the swinging doorway while the staff and patrons watched on in awe. It was at this point Henry burst out the kitchen as well, his face a mask of exasperation as he asked around to try and figure out what was going on. It seemed like no one really knew anything. No one knew where the day security guard was or how much money the thief had grabbed before bolting.

“Fucking useless.” He mumbled under his breath, immediately kicking himself for how much he sounded like William.

It must have only been a couple of minutes before William walked back in, though it felt much longer. Henry looked to catch Will’s eye, quickly realising that he’d failed in the pursuit both the thief and the money by the slouching of his posture and the cut above his brow. He dabbed it with the side of his hand, smearing blood on his forehead. It was a sight and a half.

“You didn’t get him?” he kept his voice cautious, not wanting to send William over the edge.

He laughed, “Course I did. Fucker hit me and jumped in a car. I will say, he were well organised.” William winced again as he touched his cut, a streak of stark red trailing down the side of his face. Henry watched the movement thoughtfully, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen William like this, though usually he wasn’t sober. There was just something about it that made him feel deeply troubled and guilty. William Afton was powerful and scary. Handsome as the devil, everyone said it and the blood on his face tickled a part of Henry that he kept close to his chest and had done for years.

Henry sighed, “You alright?” it’s asked nonchalantly but there is a tint of kindness on it.

“Yeah. It’s going to keep bleeding though, you know what cuts to the face are like.” He again wiped the gash, the blood darkly pretty on his fingers.

“No, no I don’t.” He shakes his head, he had too much sense to go about getting into fights. William just laughed, Henry's judgement always amused him. But his laughter died when Henry bluntly asked, “Don’t suppose you got a licence plate or anything?”

William’s face went stony, “Shit.” he muttered, feeling a little stupid but in fairness he was busy trying to catch the guy. The two were silent for a moment, the quiet awkward between them. Thankfully, it was broken when William again spoke, the idea hitting him out of nowhere, “The cameras. It wasn’t too far from the back doors, we might be able to get the plate on them.”

Henry nodded, “Yeah I’ll go and check with y/n.” An odd weighty feeling fills the air at the mention of your name, a bizarre and new-found knowledge on the former’s part and gross pride on the other’s. He turns but stops still, “You should uh try and see how much they took. You know, look at the tickets and-”

“Yeah, I know how to do it, mate. Jesus.” he sniggers, not moving an inch out of principle, since when the fuck did Henry give him orders.

Exhaling through his nose, the sensible owner decides not to pursue what he’d asked him to do, hoping he’d comply without an argument, though what was more likely is that Henry would have to do that himself. He heads out the main restaurant and down the staff corridor, a growing feeling of anticipation at seeing you. He’s sure neither you or William know what he did, but the fear of discovery made him tense.

Outside the security office door, he takes a breath before knocking, hating himself for being like this, if anyone should be ashamed it’s William, but as always he’s the one compensating.

You open the door and are greeted by the pensive expression of Mr Emily, you knew exactly what he was going to ask and had been reviewing the footage yourself already.

“Uh hey, y/n, can you show me the footage of the incident?” You step aside and let him into the cramped space, it’s a horrible office really, no windows and the monitor casting a grainy artificial light against the viewer. He would rather have you serving on the front but you insisted this was better because you, quote, ‘don’t want to deal with all the shit out there.’ End quote.

“Yeah, sure. I had a look…” you speak whilst getting up the recording of the robbery, “but the fella has a hood up, you can’t see anything uh identifiable.” He glances at your face and is surprised to see you smiling, as you wind it back and play the recording for him.

Your grin is pretty contagious and makes it hard to focus on the footage, “You find this funny?” His brow is narrowed, it’s not asked nastily more curiously.

“The thieving? No, sir.” You try to disguise your snigger as you skip it forward a few seconds, to show William pulling the waitress off his arm and booking it out the door. “It’s uh that I find funny.”

He snickers himself, god this was a shit show. “Yes, I can see why.”

“When I clip it for the police, I’ll leave that bit out… might be hard to explain what he was trying to do there.” You watch your boss nod his approval, an understanding between you to try and keep William out of the copper’s eye-lines.

Henry then recalls what he said about the outside footage. “What about outside? William said that we might be able to see something on the cameras round the back.”

“Ah yeah, good idea.” You go off the restaurant recordings, and on to the outside ones. They record a little differently in blocks of footage that display in a huge camera roll, you go to the section he means but scroll down too far, clicking on the wrong block. The two of you are met with yesterday’s footage of the bins and it takes you a fair few seconds to realise.

“Oh this is yesterday’s.” Henry says the moment he clocks on and you blink trying to read the time and date stamp.

“Oh sorry.” you rush to go back off that recording, hitting the wrong button and instead going to the rear interior cameras in the same block. The intake of breath from Mr Emily, makes you jump.

“Ah- no. That’s ah-” The time it takes him to speak is enough for you to gauge the reason for his reaction. Though the footage isn't brilliant you can tell it’s him standing just outside William’s office, his back to the wall. It’s too grainy to see precisely but the movement is clear and pitifully familiar to you. You look at Henry for a moment, lips pursed in confusion, then it occurs to you to look at the timestamp: yesterday around 1:30pm, you were on your ‘lunch break’ then with Will- oh sweet lord.

“Oh my God.” you say out loud, and Henry swears that this must be what a heart attack feels like. The dawning realisation on your face left him no room to lie his way out of it, sure it was muddy but shit, you can still tell he’s wanking. A disturbed and defeated noise escaped from his throat, “Mr Emily, is that-”

“God, just turn it off.” He speaks hoarsely, a little blunter than he meant, but when he pulls the courage to look at you he sees blatant amusement on your face.

“Like Hell I will. You saw me and Will- Mr Afton in his office yesterday?” you enquire, smirk not budging an inch.

“Yes.'' His voice is small as his eyes flicker between you and the footage, which is now reaching its literal and metaphorical climax. Your eyes go wide as you take it in, how he bites on his hand his back lifting off the wall, fucking his fist and letting himself spill on the floor.

“And you uh-”

“Yes.” Now he looks at you, his face red before he tries to grab the mouse, futile really, you’d already seen everything. The whole vile, carnal activity. Something so beneath him, it had been on his mind all day. He internally interrogated himself as to how he didn't think about the cameras, the stupid horny bastard he was. Couldn’t wait to get back to the privacy of his office- no he didn’t want to because the sounds of his co-worker and employee screwing was what was getting him off.

You move it out of his grasp, your eyes sharp scrutiny on his shame. “God, Mr Emily.” you giggle, a sudden giddiness surging through your veins. If you had known that he was there he could have come in and gotten a better view, the mere thought of that made arousal twitch between your legs. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you finally speak again.

Confusion again twists his features, “What?” He looks handsome like that, you muse.

“Do you… fancy me, Mr Emily?” A flash of something foreign crosses his face, he just looks at you until you prompt him again, “Well?”

He scoffs, “I- well, you’re attractive, yes. What do you want me to say?” His tone is tinged with disbelief, he can’t believe you’re still in here with him, talking to him, not running into the restaurant to tell William, disgust etched on your face.

You beam, he really did, it was written on his face. Circumstantial or not, the idea of having two fit older men interested in you, burned your blood. “Then you could’ve said something… I feel guilty if you felt, you know, left out.”

He’s so speechless he might as well be a statue, so you fill the silence again, “It’s good to know.” He’s just mesmerised by your reaction, you’re almost flirting with him, unperturbed by that god-awful footage, no, engaged by it.

“I’m sorry.” He manages finally, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from his hands.

“Don’t be.” You shake your head, still smiling. “I’ll sort the recordings. Check for a number plate and clip it for a report.” You slowly place a hand on his arm, stroking up and down, captivated by the effect you were having on him, you felt powerful almost. “So you don’t have to worry. You can go.”

And he does. He leaves the room without saying a word, shell-shocked into silence. Your reaction wasn’t what he would have thought, but it still scared him because he knew he was going to be the next topic of conversation between you and William, and if he were to confront him, that heart attack probably would materialise. God, if you only knew the half of who he fancied.

The next time you see William, is again during your contracted hours, this time leaving the door purposely open despite his protests, a secret hope that Henry might again come down the corridor, no pun intended. You’d rode William to oblivion in his office chair, taking exactly what you wanted from the man in the form of his huge cock stretching your little hole open.

Now you remain sat on his lap, watching his hand toy with the mess both of you had made between your legs, his fingers pushing his release back inside, thinking to himself how pretty you looked fuck open like that, full of him just how you wanted.

“I want to talk to you.” You say through a grin, pulling his hand away and towards your lips, where you suck the mixture of the two of you from his fingers, your tongue swirling reminding him of something else you’re more than good at. A low noise from his chest at the sight makes you smile again.

He smirks, “This is the bit where you ask me for something, huh?”

“Nothing you won’t like.” You bite the tips of his fingers, holding them for just a moment between your teeth, making him groan. “Do you know about Mr Emily?” The second you ask it he pulls his hand away, cupping under your jaw.

“What about him?”

“He saw us the other day. You know on your desk.” You don’t need to jog his memory, he recalls that in explicit detail.

“Yeah, got quite the eyeful I imagine. Looked mortified.”

“Oh my god, He didn’t tell you.” You laugh, “Not that I blame him.” adjusting yourself before sliding from his knee. You pull up your panties and then the trousers you were wearing, scanning the room for wherever the hell your shoes have gone. When you look back to him, his brow is furrowed.

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart, what’s this about?” You can tell that despite the casualness of his tone he really wants to know and your cocky expression was grating on him already. Clearly you talking about Henry was of great interest to him.

So you smile, taking a moment to enjoy the look on his face before giving him the story, in as much detail as you can. You describe the footage you’d found, how even through the pixels you could tell he touched himself desperately, his pace rushed either due to fear of discovery or simple greediness. You tell him how his coworker was so thoughtless as to let his release fall on the floor, and dirty enough to leave it there.

William looked at you with a grin, he could taste the second-hand embarrassment on his partner's behalf, thinking to himself that Henry must feel like shit right now. When you finish with some clear glee on your face he chuckles, “Dirty bastard.” He paused, an expression flashing across his face that you’d never seen before. “...Did he delete the footage?”

You laugh, “Why? You want to see it?” You half expected his face to fall at that accusation but a grin just cut wide on his face. “I deleted it.” you shoot him down.

“Well then, that’s a wasted opportunity. You never know when that kind of thing can be of use.” He spoke whilst standing up, pulling the lever under his chair up to return it to the height he needed it, not the one you did to ride him. He moved to begin sorting his desk out but his hands stuttered, not sure where to even begin with how behind on work he was.

“Cold, Afton.” You grin. “You didn’t actually let me finish.” That caught his attention again and he turned to face you, leaning back on his desk before gesturing at you to continue.

“I said I deleted it. Only fair, I wouldn’t want Mr Emily to feel… slighted.” You sigh, watching him look at you expectantly. You make him wait a fair while before you dig in your back pocket and clack a USB down on the desk next to him. The blooming smile on his face motivates you to ask him for a ‘favour’.

Clearly there is something of a tension between the two co-owners. And that can be toxic to a business’ success. Though that’s probably not the real reason for you wanting to relieve it.

William moves to pick it up, but you quickly snatch it from the table, holding it between two fingers you drag it up under his chin. “You can have it… for whatever pervers reasons you really want it.”

“But?”

The saccharine look on your face as you speak is like hypnotism at its finest. “I like the idea of two men wanting me. Like I really like it.” you draw out your words for maximum effect.

He tilts his head back in laughter, “Of course you do.”

You’re not entirely happy with the implications of that. “Hey, at least I’m brave enough to ask for what I want.”

“And you want to fuck him?” The words are quick and harsh off his tongue. “And you’re what, asking for my permission?”

A short laugh escapes you. “No. But I do want to fuck him. But I don’t want to make you jealous, so maybe there’s a middle ground. If you get me?” He evidently does, judging by that delicious pinch between his brows. For a moment you think you’ve pushed things a little too far, maybe hit a nerve even, so you just blink at him prettily, hoping that that will nudge him in the direction you want.

Finally, he sniggers, “... You’re asking me… If I will tag-team you. With a bloke I've known for nearly twenty years?” He laughs incredulously before running his tongue over his teeth. The emphasis of the last part makes you resign yourself to the no, you think you’re about to hear.

“Uh yeah..?” Your tone is as cautious as you can make it, whilst your eyes rake over his face for some read of his opinion on the matter.

But he just leaves you hanging, sniggering away. Clearly he’s made a decision and you won’t get to know until he thinks you need to.

Later that evening after grabbing his old and dusty but trusty jacket off the hook in his office, Henry checks the pocket for his car keys and wallet. Sighing as the events of the day caught up to him, he finally clocks off just after 11pm, and he’s more than ready to fall into bed.

He pokes his head around the door of William’s office just to give him the polite goodnight that was expected but is greeted by pitch black emptiness. He tries not to be pissed off that the bastard has gone home already and left him working away without a word exchanged. But it's largely unsuccessful, and he finds himself huffing and puffing as he goes to the front of the building to check everythings been locked up properly.

The restaurant always hits different after hours, an unacquainted person would probably find it creepy what with the children’s play area all shrouded in darkness and the curtains drawn on the stage blowing just a little from the ventilation. Hell, he was beginning to find it unnerving himself.

The interior doors were locked and bolted and the shutters were down, making this whole thing a little pointless, but if he hadn’t checked he’d be halfway home itching with uncertainty. Especially with the robbery that just happened.

“You know you could have just checked from outside?” A voice says in the dark of the restaurant, making Henry turn like a gunshot towards it. It takes him a minute in his surprise to clap his eyes on William sitting in a corner booth with his feet on the table. In the complete fucking dark.

“Jesus, William.” He snaps, moving to the wall to flick the lights back on. When he does, the lurker winces in the bright artificial light. “What are you doing?”

In response, he slides a bottle of whiskey across the table, one that he’d drunk nearly half of already. “Drinking.” His words are a little slurred so he clears his throat. “Drink with me, Henry.”

Henry scoffs, “Drinking alone in the dark. New low, even for you.”

Cackling, William puts his hand over his heart, “Ouch. Well, I'm not alone now, am I? Sit down.” He gestures in line with his words, nodding towards the other side of the booth.

“It’s late, I should-” He begins his protest but is immediately cut off by an overexaggerated reaction from his counterpart.

“Oh for the love of god, man. Fucking sit down.” He rolls his eyes, still not moving his feet from the table, even when Henry obeys and sits down opposite him. In Henry’s experience it’s best not to argue with William when he’s half-cut, the man could be persuasive, bordering on naggy.

It’s only when he’s already sat down that he realises the drunk has only got one glass, he pours it for Henry and then takes a swig directly from the bottle.

“Thought you were saving this for a special occasion?” He asks, twisting the bottle to read the label and humming approval to himself that this was good shit. Truth be told he hasn’t drunk with William for what must be a couple of years, so this proposal mixed with his posh whiskey stank of an ulterior motive.

“I’m sick of looking at it.” He answered, slowly leaning his head backwards to rest it against the wall and close his eyes. Henry watched the movement over the brim of his glass. He spent many years working with this man, but it only dawned on him once in a while how handsome he was. Not a hallmark prince kind of handsome, but in a rugged, sleazy, scary sort of way, no wonder you’d trotted so happily to bed with him- or rather to his office on your lunch break. He almost laughed as that thought occurred to him. God, he was jealous, and he hated himself for it.

Suddenly, William shook his head and sat up straighter. “Fuck, I’m nearly mortal.” He snickered, before taking another swig from the bottle, then pouring more in Henry's glass. "Away, mate. You've got catching up to do."

Although he tried, Henry would have needed another bottle to make it to William’s level of pissed. Still though, a little over an hour later his head was swimming and even just sitting in this booth was testing his balance.

He shifts in his place, instantly regretting it “Shit. God… I need to stop. Gonna fucki-” He felt like he was going to hit the deck, yet William seemed to have gone the other way, leaning with his head in his hands giggling at nothing.

“Language, Emily!” He chastised, “Never known you to have such a dirty mouth.” Looking over at the other man, William could tell he’d drunk well too much. He never could handle it that well, it showed immediately in his eyes, that kind of glassy look that was undeniably due to intoxication; many times the two of them had gotten denied service from pubs for exactly that reason.

His words made Henry look up properly, a bit taken aback by his coworker. Obviously, he was joking, hardly a sentence from William could go by without some flavour of profanity, but that ‘dirty mouth’ comment was like ice down his spine. He said something like that to you when he eavesdropped on the two of you, in such a darkly aroused way that it stuck with him, practically haunting him. “Just shut up, man.” He mumbled, unhappy with the half a smile crossing his face.

William scoffed, leaning forward across the table to snatch the glasses off Henry’s face. He tried to grab them back, but as always, Will was too quick.

“What the hell are you-”

He laughed, putting the glasses on himself and blinking quickly in pantomime, “God, you’re really fucking blind, huh?”

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Henry leans to again try and take them back. He's met with William tilting his head to allow him to pluck them from his face, chuckling like a schoolboy.

Henry feels his face heat up more than he would have liked. “Yeah, that’s why I wear them. Fuck’s sake.”

“I forgot you’re so moody on the drink, lighten up, dickhead.”

For a moment Henry just laughed in disbelief, thinking to himself that he can’t be serious. “At least it’s only when I’m drinking, you’re a stormy bastard all the time.” Will’s eyebrows raised in response, he didn’t have a lot to say to that, largely because it’s true. His mood could sway the whole staff’s, his bad day was everyone’s problem, most of all Henry’s.

William hummed for a beat, taking the time to think if he really wanted to say what he was about to. Your words from earlier echoing in his mind. “You’re right, you know.” He smirked then, a proper conniving expression that almost bordered on sinister. “I’ll have to make it up to you then… Call in on me tomorrow. I have something for you.”

And now is the waiting game. Your shift went relatively quickly and painlessly. Bookings have been strictly limited after yesterday's fiasco that led to the thief digging around the cash register, so it was almost quiet. And now you sit on your boss’s very familiar knee, practically vibrating with excitement. You lean your head back to rest on his shoulder, slowly grinding your hips back and forth on his lap, knowing how much it wound him up.

“You really can’t wait, can you?” His voice is low and teasing like always, but you don’t miss the way his fingers tap against the top of the desk: he’s nervous.

You smile, “What? I’m excited.” You roll your hip particularly hard, pleasure jolts through your system when you feel that William is pretty excited himself. “I can’t believe he agreed to this. I’ve always wanted to have two blokes fight over me.” You punctuate your point by pressing your lips against the underside of his jaw.

He snickers from just above you, “Can I tell you something?” A large hand comes up from your ribs to grab a handful of your breast which you arch your back into. “He didn’t exactly agree.” The second the sentence leaves him, you sit upright, turning to face him.

Your eyes narrow. “What are you saying?”

“I told him I have something for him, not that-” Your scoffing cuts him off .

“You- he doesn’t know that I’m here to… You’re such a fucking arsehole!” You could almost hit him, if Henry has no idea what this is all about, it’s not going to happen is it? Disappointment courses through you. “I can’t believe you-” You go to stand and grab your shit and leave, but he catches your hips and pulls you back down on top of him.

He holds you firm, just grinning at the angry line between your brows. “Calm down, sweetheart. Alright? Just bat your eyes at him like you’re so good at and you’ll get what you want.”

Just as you open your mouth to give Will your grievances, the two of you hear polite knocking from the office door which then slowly cracks open showing a tentative looking Henry.

The second he claps eyes on not only William but you too, the man feels anxiety prickle all over him as a million thoughts cross his mind. Seriously, what the fuck is this? Some kind of gang up on Henry, make him feel like shit for what he did the other day, situation? Fuck, the shame around him was not only tangible but so thick it was practically visible.

But not wanting to draw attention to his hallway activity, he elects for a “Oh hey, y/n.” Before he focuses his gaze on William, “What is this then?”

He laughs, “I said I had something for you…” William then takes his hands off your hips, freeing you to move as you’d like. But before you do, he whispers something unintelligible to Henry in your ear. Something that makes the hard line of your mouth soften considerably.

“Well, love. You still want to play?” The words caress your skin and it dawns on you that you do. Fuck, you really want to play. And you’ve already gone to all this effort… it would be a shame to waste such an opportunity. You nod at William and slide off his lap, then walking over to Henry who still stood awkwardly a pace away from the door.

You walk right up to him, standing a little too close to him, so close he feels an automatic blush spread across his cheeks. “I uh…” you begin but falter immediately. The confusion on his face was crystal clear. “I can’t get that image of you out of my head. You know, the footage?... I think I enjoyed that more than a normal person should. I thought maybe we could have some fun- if that’s what you want, obviously.” You keep your voice down instinctively, maybe hoping internally it’d be out of William’s earshot.

He killed that thought with, “Careful, y/n. His glasses will steam up.” The cockiness coating the words made the other man scowl, which in turn just made Will laugh.

“Shut it, Will.” You interject, your eyes not moving from Henry as you read him for reaction.

“...This really isn’t a good idea.” He speaks slowly, voice cracking on the first word, making him have to clear his throat to continue. This was baffling, and he couldn’t tell if it was some sick joke between you and William, something designed to cripple him emotionally. But looking closer, from your small smile to his set jaw made him think that maybe, maybe this was a real proposal.

“Respectfully,” you take another step forward, so close to Henry that you could smell his aftershave. “I disagree.” Your hand rises up to rest on his chest, a finger prying under the lapel of his jacket.

He chuckles in complete disbelief, flicking his eyes over to William, who still sat cock-sure as hell in his office chair. “Don’t look at me, mate. This is all her.” He waves a calculatedly dismissive hand as he speaks, trying to disguise the tension he was wrapped in.

“Yeah but…” The words fail Henry when you continue touching him, stroking his chest in just the right way to get the physical reaction from him that you wanted. “If I do something, are you going to rough me up?” He attempts some level of nonchalance, but it doesn’t carry at all.

William sniggers then, “I think she’ll do a good enough job of that on her own.” You giggle, curling your fingers under the lapel and pulling Henry so close that your lips are only an inch away from his making him groan slightly.

“So what do you say, Henry?” You breathe, already knowing the answer but wanting to make sure that this is something that he wanted. He doesn’t respond verbally, only closing the gap between the two of you with a surprisingly firm kiss. You reciprocate, excitement bubbling in your core, this was insane, not only was it two handsome men here with you at once, but both your bosses, this was certainly going to bollocks up your professional relationships.

You take both Henry’s hands and place them on your hips, giving him all the cues to deepen this kiss, which he does by sliding his tongue into your mouth and twirling it alongside yours. You let out a light moan, if he kept hitting you with all these surprises this was going to be even more fun than you initially thought. When you press yourself flush against him, it strikes him out of nowhere that this is real, you, pretty little you, were kissing him, pressing against him hungrily, eager for him. It excites him enough for his hands to rake over you, one cupping your tit and the other pinching your arse in such a way that makes you briefly rise to your toes.

You mouth the word ‘fuck’ against his lips before he puls away slightly and buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing along your skin until he found your sweet spot. Your hand tangles itself in his hair, encouraging him to keep pulling these cute noises from you. One particularly pretty gasp for you makes him look up, instantly catching William’s eye, his stomach twisting when he sees him chuckling and shaking his head. You grab under his chin, forcing him to put his attention back on you.

You look over your shoulder, “Have you got a confused jealousy boner, Will?”

He laughs at your meanness, “If I have to watch, at least put on a show.” You grin before turning back to Henry, intending to follow his advice. You lightly push Henry back until his back catches a side table, there you trail your hand down his body before taking the tent in his trousers in your hand, making him groan again, the sound vibrating through his chest.

You begin to stroke him slowly over the fabric, grinning up at him, “Fuck, that security footage was so hot, Henry.” You bite your bottom lip and he swears he’s going to melt. “Will you show me in person?”

You feel his cock twitch and it spurs on the wetness now seeping between your legs and collecting in your panties. His hands replace yours, moving to slowly undo his belt, the clinking sound all too revealing, then his fly underneath. You dive in then, helping him pull his trousers down. Flicking your gaze between his eyes and his cock, you trail your finger over the bulge, stopping just at the waistband of his boxers and making him wait in anticipation before you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull them down, letting his hardness spring between your bodies.

The look on your face is so damn dirty, your pupils so huge that he just blinks at you, gasping when you grab hold of him, feeling his length. He’s thick and you just know he’s going to feel so fucking right inside you. Spitting in your hand, you start a slow pace of stroking him, all teasing, really making him feel every little thing you give him, his twisting expression motivating you to keep it nice and easy.

“This enough of a show for you?” You say to William, and Henry turns to look at him like he forgot he’s there.

“Please, sweetheart. I know you can do better than that.” He makes a point of looking the two of you up and down before glancing at Henry and flashing the most wolfish smirk going, making his stomach twist with something absolutely filthy.

William watches as you grin, his hand taking hold of himself over his trousers. You look such a pretty thing sliding down to your knees, still pumping Henry, though now it was becoming a more substantial pace. His breath audibly hitched when he looked down at the sight of you stroking his cock like that, looking so needy for it. You open your mouth, placing the head of his cock on your tongue for a moment before wrapping your lips around him. You suck him just as tantalisingly, hollowing your cheeks to take as much of him as you could, working your tongue perfectly on the underside of his length. His head was completely empty, soft grunts escaping him when you took him deep in your throat. How the fuck was this even happening? How the fuck was William okay with it?

From across the room, you both hear the shifting of him standing up, your eyes move to what you could see of him in your peripheral but you don’t stop, if anything you start bobbing your head with more gusto, your hands taking his base and softly stroking him to your rhythm. Henry just stares at William, his hands white knuckling against the table in an effort not to cry out- god, you’re too fucking good at this. No wonder he’s so fond of you.

William stands behind you, his frame casting an imposing shadow over you on the floor, you can’t help but smile- well, smile as much as you can. He looks between the two of you, watching you give Henry probably the best blowjob of his life, before looking back to Henry’s reddened face, he could tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, which makes him snigger. He grabs hold of your hair, taking a firm grip of it and following your movement.

Henry moans and the shame that accompanies it is almost instant. What the hell was he doing? His scrutiny was fucking awful and maybe would’ve made him want to stop, if you weren’t taking him so well.

“She’s such a good girl, huh?” His voice makes your skin pucker with goosebumps, fuck he sounds so good when he’s horny.

Henry would have agreed, but all words are absent when Will uses your hair to control your movement. A sudden emerging urge to hear what kind of sounds Henry can make taking over him. You moan, hand reaching in reflex around his wrist, though you let him do as he wishes. He pushed your head further down on Henry’s cock, making tears spring at the corners of your eyes. And then moves you back and forth, forcing you to keep up with it. Something about it is so dirty you can’t help but shift your position so your pussy is rubbing against your heel, the small sensation absolute bliss.

William catches on quickly and pulls your head back so Henry’s cock pops lewdly from your mouth. You speak immediately, your voice breathy, “Feeling left out?”

Henry watches in something close to awe as William tilts your head all the way back so you’re looking up at him, his finger rubbing over your lips, the smirk on his face mean. “I agreed to share, not witness.” He leans down and pulls your shirt up, somehow managing to manoeuvre it over your head easily, despite the carnage. He waits, unsure of what to do, his cock glistening with your spit when he takes it in his hand, looking to see your bra being unhooked and the sight of your perfect tits.

William hooks under your arms and lifts you up, in quite the show of strength, onto the side table. You giggle, “You’re not very good at sharing then.” as you look between the two men, your legs spreading automatically to let William pull your trousers off, your wet panties exposed, he runs his fingers over the damp fabric eliciting a pleased sound from both you and Henry who now touched himself at the view in front of him.

“You really liked sucking his dick, didn’t you?” His tone is all mocking, though you pick up on a hint of something else. You just nod and lift your hips up against his hand, he obeys your silent ask, quickly sliding your knickers down to your knees and placing his thumb on that needy clit of yours. He gives you just what you need, drawing circles over your bundle of nerves, glancing at Henry whilst he does so, catching his gaze as it flicks from somewhere else, embarrassment written on his face.

He shakes his head at him before placing his hands on your thighs to keep you open for him as he bends down and replaces the stimulation with his tongue. You grab him instantly, and your want for him makes Henry stroke his cock again, he almost wants to laugh at this attempt to show off, but there’s no denying the look on your face as you roll your hips against him, incoherent moans fleeing your lips. Clearly, William is good at that because when he adjusts his position to press his fingers inside you, you cry out, the sound insanely pornographic. He presses his digits inside you just right, playing you like a fucking violin and you’re close, just the sight of Henry watching could have got you there, but the angle of his fingers pressed against the part of you that made coming undone inevitable.

William grunts into your pussy, when your hand in his hair lets him know you’re going to cum. You’re a bad one for that, grabbing onto him in your fretful wave, when you’re scared he’s not going to let you get there, his back is covered in scratches from you for precisely that reason. He grabs at himself, palming his erection to the rhythm of your noises and not entirely succeeding. Henry notices immediately, unable to decide what he wants to watch more, you gagging for it, begging to cum, or Will getting off on it.

“Fuck. Will, please.” You choke out, the fucking of his fingers shoving you closer and closer to your end, so quick its near unbearable. He doesn’t stop, curling his fingers more to get you there, still sucking mercilessly on your clit. It hits you hard, your back arching as you cum, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers, fluttering in such a way that it makes it impossible not to bust inside you.

William pulls away from you when your waves begin to die out, to enjoy the sight of you, grinning when he sees Henry looking ragged.

You see it too, the furrowed brow, sweat lingering on his forehead showing that he’d enjoyed that nearly as much as you had, edging himself helplessly to your pleasure. You can see the precum leaking from his tip and even though you’ve just cum you want more. You want to make him cry.

“Henry…” The second you say his name he quivers, he remembers your voice sounding like that from before, but the glazed over, fucked out look on your face is new. “Can you fuck me?” You’re sitting up on the table as you speak, your cunt flushed and shining. And you certainly don’t need to ask twice.

You stand and push him down so he’s sitting in William’s chair, not missing the pissed off look on Will’s face that screams ‘what about me?’.

You straddle Henry facing out towards William, blinking pretty at him whilst rubbing your slick pussy against the other’s cock. Hoping he gets the practicality of this position. Reading your mind, he steps forward, taking your chin in his grip as his foot reaches under the chair to push the lever up, causing you and Henry to drop down roughly to a much more useful height. Henry moans, the jolting movement making him drag against your cunt in the most desperate way.

It’s not long before you’re lost in the obliteration of two fellas at once. Henry’s thick cock deep inside you, stretching you around him. His hands cup under your behind to give him the space he needs to fuck up into you. You’re whining from it, loving the feeling of his pace, or you would be, if not for your lips being wrapped around William’s cock stifling the sound.

If anyone was outside the door in the former's previous position, they might fall victim to the same impulse he did. The lewd sounds of one using your mouth like his fucktoy and the other fucking out your dripping pussy, no doubt very obvious. As is the mixture of grunts and moans. You can't help but be so thankful for coming across that footage.

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf william afton #fnaf smut #william afton x you #henry emily #henry emily x reader #henry emily x you #afab reader

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cuubism · 2 years

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actor hob, and pretentious asshole film director dream

[ this got so long and so weird and specific i'm so sorry ]

so hob is an everyman actor. a good actor, charismatic, funny, fan favorite, but not the type that gets cast in highbrow art films. mostly he does like romcoms, mid-budget action movies, feel-good family films, etc etc. and he's totally cool with that, he's good at what he does, and people enjoy those films, anyway. he might be getting a bit bored though, a bit stagnant. might be thinking it's time for some reinvention. and there might be a certain director whose ridiculous and nonsensical but dreamy films he's particularly enamored with...

dream makes REALLY pretentious art films. the types that get studied in graduate level film classes and have fifty different academic papers with fifty different theses trying to puzzle them out. dream is a master of themes and images and subtle construction. he is also a COMPLETE asshole and impossible to work with, an auteur in the most stereotypical way possible, he writes and directs, he micromanages all his projects, he asserts his vision and god help anyone who goes against it. nobody can handle him, nobody can STAND him, and the only reason he still gets funding for these projects is because they win awards, so many awards, and the studios want to ride on the coattails of those awards. but it's getting to the point where even his most ride-or-die producers are ready to give up.

right off the back of dream's most recent bafta, a rather naive Big Exec approaches him to direct the next installment of his Big Superhero Franchise. dream is immediately like fuck off with that bullshit but the exec pleads with him that the franchise is flagging and they really need something new to spice it up. plus the pay will be enough for dream to finance like 10 of his own ridiculous art films without having to rely on producers for money. and dream really is about to get cut off for being a complete insufferable asshole so he takes the gig. it kind of feels like prison though.

anyway, he gets to work trying to make this shitty boring film at least marginally less shitty and boring. he doesn't have a lot of leeway -- a lot of the story is locked in, half the cast is set from prior installments etc. dream immediately regrets taking this job, he'd rather die in actual prison than work on this mindnumbing piece of trash. it feels like it's taking an eternity and who could possibly stand an eternity of this???

well. enter hob, whose agent managed to snag him a 2nd-lead sort of role in this thing. it's not QUITE the reinvention he was going for but the pay and exposure are really good -- and even if they weren't, the moment hob saw that dream was attached he was immediately on board.

cue dream tearing his fucking hair out and basically being a complete menace and diva on set -- no that wasn't good, yes we have to do a 57th take, oh my god this dialogue is horrible give me that shitty script i'm writing my own thing, what do you mean the plot is linear???, wait there are how many cgi aliens????? i'm going to kill myself -- and Hob, pretty much Just Happy To Be There as always, takes one look at this beautiful dramatic emo asshole and is like oh. yes. i don't know what i'm saying yes to, but i'm saying yes. just immediately enamored with this bitch against all logic, he's like i've seen all your films i know how your mind works you brilliant nihilistic mess of a person. i'm on board. let's go.

first scene that hob's in dream is once again ranting about the atrocious script, which he did not write and is hardly allowed to change -- or, every change he makes is too weird and the studio keeps nixing it. everyone keeps sighing and being like oh my god can we please just shoot i wanna go home, meanwhile hob's like alright then. let's workshop it. and dream's just like. what. you aren't just gonna tell me to shut up? and hob's like no, youre right, this script is trash, but i know you're just going to write something really weird and psychedelic that they won't let you shoot. and dream's like you dare to speak to me that way??? and hob just puts his hands on his hips and is like listen, i actually know more about this sort of general audience family film thing than you do, mister arthouse, so are you going to work with me or not? and dream's just like what... is happening... because usually people who try to 'handle' him either just cave to his every demand like wimps, or just fight him on everything to 'prove' that they're in control, and hob is just kind of... not doing either of those? anyway dream doesn't know what to do with him.

so they workshop it. turns out hob actually DOES know how these sort of general audience all-follow-the-same-three-act-structure films work and how to improve things within those confines, and also he understands what like, normal people like, you know, casual feel good movies, not everything has to be a mindbender, jesus. so they bounce ideas off each other for like 3 hours until they finally get something that's okay enough that dream no longer wants to fling himself into the sun. meanwhile everyone on set is staring at them like 👀. then dream is like come back to my trailer we are rewriting the other 116 pages of this script right NOW. what else is hob supposed to do but follow.

then hob becomes the designated Dream Handler on set. dream starts using him as his barometer for what 'normal people' would like because he does not understand that at all. ("hob, will 'people' accept this?" "well considering youre spinning the camera around on a string i'm gonna go out on a limb and say no"). dream becomes kind of obsessed with him because his life is so like, normal, and he's okay with it?? he doesn't find existence to be an insufferable prison from which there is no escape?? and hob is like aw i know you're such a tortured artistic soul *pats him on the head*. plus, hob is actually a good actor, and he's able to put a lot of heart into even this mediocre big budget film, and kind of forces dream to confront the idea that there's more than one good type of story. that different stories serve different purposes and a straightforward happy story is okay, actually.

(and that the problem is the corporatization of the storytelling, not the story itself)

anyway the movie ends up being pretty good, dream still kind of hates it because he wasn't given full artistic license but he has to grudgingly admit that it has at least some merit. after the premiere hob is like (cheekily) so you gonna direct the sequel? and dream is like i did not write that to have a sequel. and hob's like it has a cliffhanger? and dream's like so???? and hob's like well theyre definitely gonna make a sequel. and dream's like i hate this planet. also no i'm not going to make the sequel. i'm going to fuck off to the woods and make a movie about teeth. do you want to star in it? and hob's like you're so fucking weird i'm obsessed with you i'm going to kiss you now.

so yeah, that.

#dreamling #the sandman #just chuckin aus into the void cuz who knows if i'll ever actually write them #sorry this au became insane XD #it got SO much longer and more meandering than i was aiming for i just wanted to write a little 2 paragraph summary LOL #then it grew several legs #long post #anyway dream doesn't have a 'full name' in this btw he just directs under Dream like he's beyonce or something 😂#you can think of dream as sort of like ingmar bergman or luis bunuel #and hob is like. mark ruffalo. so you can try to imagine that dynamic if you wish XD #sort of inspired by the way art film directors keep getting roped into directing marvel and disney films for some reason??#my writing

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 11 months

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A/N: Erik killed your husband, T'Challa, and took the throne. Y'all got beef and sexual tension. This is part 3 and the end. Smut included.

Part 1 Part 2

In the 20 minutes on the airship, you and Killmonger don't talk. He adjusts his neck. He plays with his nails. You cross your ankles in the opposite direction.

Since what he said, it's been a week of silence on your end. You admit. It got to you, the guilt. Was what he said wrong, yes, but there was truth within it, and that truth made you feel like the worst traitor of them all.

Still, all week, he's slid paperwork under your door, and you've quietly scratched out full paragraphs, sending it back with pen-inked edits. One pleasure of being an advisor? You get to piss him off and hear him sigh through the door. It's his own fault for attaching clauses as if you won't comb through all 15 pages of his loosely worded proposals. You have the time.

"I humored your request to replace the Dora as a trade-off for your active participation today. Make me look good," he reminds you as you step off the airship into Step Town, located in the Golden City. Last you were here was with T'Challa. This was his place to get away from the stress of the palace. Now you understand. Here, he could breathe and walk the streets. You take a breath of the fresh air though people are everywhere.

The two of you have come to do a walk-through and some small-scale mediation for morale. You take the reigns at D'Jouti's and Sampha's, speaking before Killmonger can manipulate or spread his unidentified agenda. It's a property dispute. You keep it at a property dispute. It takes a lot of skill, skill that you learned watching T'Challa manage strong personalities.

"Killmonger," you gesture, bringing him in finally. If the men want to meet the 'new king' so badly, that's their prerogative.

"Ndingu Yaba N'Jadaka." Sternly, he shakes their hands and looks them in the eye as if he truly cares for them. If you didn't know better, you'd believe it. Fortunately, you do know better. "Let me know how I can help you in the future."

They nod eagerly, easily enamored.

"Why wait, why not now," you challenge.

Killmonger's brow arches so quickly that they miss it. It's his own fault for being disingenuous. While they voice their thoughts, and every gripe that's been eating them since T'Chaka, you abandon him. Serves him right.

Step Town is the cultural and economic hub. The variety here is more than you'll get anywhere else nearby, perfect for shopping. You comb through colorful beaded jewelry, picking up a deep green stone necklace. You have fabric this color.

"About you behaving on this trip?"

You sigh, ignoring the evil immigrant as he comes up behind you. Instead of engaging, you pay for the necklace with a smile at the young saleswoman. She made it herself.

"Thank you," she smiles back.

"No, thank you. It's beautiful!"

He waits until you walk away from her stand to address you alone, gripping your wrist when you start to walk away from him. You shoot him a sharp look and feel his fingers slip away.

"If you won't behave out here, neither will I. You've been warned."

"You wanted them to get on their knees and worship you like a God for appearing to them. I simply skipped past the bullshit. If you're going to be King, be King, but the nonsense has to end."

A lustful wickedness flares in his eyes.

"Not interested. Move on."

"I've got your clearance to be King."

"That's not at all what I said."

"Same thing." His eyes shine as he looks out on the marketplace with new interest.

"It's not at all," you sigh. "I'm telling you. Don't disgrace my country or disturb the peace we've built."

"Maybe it needs to be disturbed." He grins at a passerby, putting on his caring act once more.

"Don't you get tired of beating a dead horse? I'm sick of you," you frown. Violence as a perpetual state? Exhausting. Who besides him would want that?

The next point in the visit for morale is Aishat's Contracting Services. Again, you dominate the interaction, purposefully cutting Killmonger off when you realize he's planting the seeds for future manipulation. He interrupts with nationalist rhetoric and fear-mongering not easily spotted in casual conversation.

"It's impressive," you interrupt his interruption. "You're able to resolve this amicably, but if I may? Hatred gives rise to violence and creates the conditions for war. Caution is a virtue of the wise."

"Yes, Queen. Wise take. Wish you'd take that mindset to heart, maybe we'd get along," he winks, cheeky in front of the contractors. You glare, a bullet already loaded in your mental chamber.

"We don't see eye to eye because, unlike you, I subscribe to civility, not senseless murder."

"See, that's contrary to what I know to be true." His head tilts as he engages his crowd. "I'm guessing your six attempts on my life don't equate. You know what it does equate to? Treason. But you know the penalty for that. I don't have to quote Wakandan law to you."

The thinly veiled threat of exile surprises the people. It's good. They need to see his nature.

"I'd hardly call it that. You did insult the past kings, including my late husband," you turn, completely throwing him under the bus.

"We fornicated in the bed you and he shared. His spot is still warm, in fact. Is that not also insulting the late King, or am I mistaken?"

Eyes are wide and judging.

"Do you really want to do this, my Queen?"

"How dare you spew such vile lies!"

You muster the calm to keep the overwhelming shame at bay well enough to conceal. Meanwhile, he continues the professional conversation. Too much denial makes you look guilty, so you don't continue, but you now see firsthand how people believe him.

Your head remains high as he follows you. Putting your feelings aside, you smile to others as you're offered free food. You insist on purchasing the roasted corn and pears as they are inexpensive and delicious.

"I agreed to replace the Dora under the impression that you'd keep your end of our bargain," Killmonger mutters when no one is in listening distance, and you're boarding the airship once more.

"Oh! Did I Iie to you? Imagine that." Your nose scrunches as you take your seat. He takes his.

"It's cool, I match energy."

Sighing, you close your eyes. You can't control what these people believe anymore than you can control anything else these days.

"Now, half the city, possibly the country, will know what we did."

"And that's all you have on me."

You're actually asleep, which is unexpected. Erik slides to the front to enjoy the colors of the sky. His father was right. Wakandan sunsets have quickly become his favorite thing.

At the palace, he prepares for another silent dinner. You sit at the opposite end of the table without provocation. The Queen being seen and not heard ain't a bad deal. It's been peaceful, something rare.

You leave the table, still shameful after eating and living life as usual, and with enough on his mind to contemplate, he retires to his own quarters. He's added his own touches at this point: black and gold, Wakandan tapestries, and a Tupac printed duvet. He's also gotten hold of the highest of Wakandan tech, some for entertainment and communication, some for more nefarious purposes.

He's in for the night, plotting because his plans for the world depend on his ability to stay three steps ahead at all times. Step one has been realized. As King, he's able to complete his father's work but with a twist. Now, he has to move strategically. After all, he will be starting a world war very soon.

Imagining the fall of Europe makes his stomach leap. It bubbles with sharp shooting pains. On second thought, he makes it to the bathroom just in time to shit his stomach out through his ass. It's still churning as if trying to self-abort him from this plane.

"AIDA!"

His body's feeling fatigued, face and neck shining from a sheen of cold sweat.

"My king," she responds from the opposite side of the door. Suddenly, he feels faint.

"Check on the Queen and report back. And get the doctor!"

"At once."

It's a good thing the palace has its own physician. Waiting in immense pain, nausea, and misery, he lifts his head when Aida knocks.

"The Queen is perfectly healthy."

That confirms it. You've finally done it.

Dr. Ebi confirms the poison, treating Erik in the infirmary with an emergency transfusion and educating him that he would NOT have died thanks to the herb, but thanks to advanced Wakandan medicine, his sickness is healed completely and in much less time.

Erik laughs from the infirmary bed, going from stress to feeling invincible. The only thing keeping him from teaching you a lesson now is exhaustion. After he sleeps... It's on.

He collapses in the medical room that's been darkened for comfort. Even this is a five-star bed and breakfast compared to combat conditions where he slept in uninhabitable places, always on high alert.

Almost immediately, he drifts off into a dreamland where his father comes to him. Suddenly, he's a little boy who's been caught rummaging through his father's belongings, but his father isn't mad. He simply holds him.

"I did it, Baba. I'm the King."

"So you are," N'Jobu smiles.

"And guess what? I can unite us again. All of our tribes around the world, we'll finally be one big tribe, just like you said."

"You've worked hard to make your dream happen. I am proud."

"Even if-" Erik wonders, now his true age. "Even if I've done bad things to get here?"

The war, the murder, the pillaging, the deceit... It all flashes in his mind like a movie.

"Does the end justify the means?"

He's only had the hope that it would, but what if he fails and it's all been in vain? That would mean he sacrificed all those lives for nothing.

N'jobu, knowing all that's occured having seen it through his eyes, raises his chin.

"Head up. You are a King, yes, but more than that you are my son, and no matter what you do, I will remain on your side always."

It's what Erik's needed to hear. If his father's the only one to believe in him, it's enough.

Erik bolts upright in the darkened room, still half-in a dream. He's heard noise when he should be alone. He lies back down, wiping his eyes and waiting, in kill mode for the next hour until the threat lurking in shadow is revealed and edging silently toward him. The feminine physique gives nothing away, considering he's surrounded every day by deadly women, each of them harboring a motive.

"UH!" You grunt, giving away your identity when he knees you in the gut.

"The fuck?"

Flipping on the beside lamp, he can see you completely, crumbled over the bed with a bigass machete in your hand.

"You got something against me sleeping? Give me damn the machete before you hurt yourself."

You take your swings instead, chasing him across his infirmary bed where he sweeps your legs and pins you by the chest in a simple and painless hold.

"You ain't on that level, Queen. Play with someone safe."

He moves his head from the path of your slow fists. You cry out as he captures your wrist, squeezing until the machete falls to the bed. He puts it to your throat.

"Neither are you," you smirk, meeting his eyes proudly. "I ALMOST TOOK YOU OFF THIS EARTH! I'll do it again, and again, and AGAIN..."

Despite the machete at your neck, there's no fear. You both know he won't do it.

"You'll never know peace," you continue. "I'll KEEP trying and one day? Very soon. It WILL work because you're weak."

That last word gets to him despite his best effort not to react. You're about to have a field day with this word now that you know it's a trigger.

"The confidence you must have to talk shit in a vulnerable position..."

He almost sounds bored, but you know better.

"You won't kill me. First of all, you're too weak. Second, you NEED me. Without me, you're a tyrant, and it's hard to gain the backing of a nation when you're an enemy of the people."

"It's not that hard actually," he mutters. "You wanna know why I REALLY keep you around? Who ELSE would put up with the woe is me shit? Every day, full of guilt and mad at the world. I didn't even LIKE that nigga, but you're right to be mad. That's why I'm the only one who gets you."

"Oh shuut uuup," you sigh, taking advantage of the monologue to pull a little knife you stole from the kitchen and plug it into his stomach.

"SHIT!" His face scrunches.

You push harder, tired of his manipulation. He's already showed his true colors. You won't believe in him again.

"You gone cut yourself," he winces, the machete still at your throat. "Trying to hurt me, you gone fuck around slit your own throat by mistake."

"I don't care, if it'll shut you up."

Even if it does cut, you won't die. You lean into the machete to his surprise and twist the small blade into his gut. He staggers back, but not before you get sliced pretty good in the process.

"I ain't ever warned one person this many times," his brows knit in frustration. You can see the pain in his eyes.

"It feels good to cause you pain," you stare, not wanting to miss a second.

His eyes narrow briefly as he holds his breath to pull the bloodied blade from his stomach. "Ugh, fuck," he winces. "You REALLY think you doing something, too. That's the painful part."

Dropping the knives on the floor, he kicks both away toward the door.

"I see. I'm a have to teach you a few things."

You want him so bad that you can't sleep or think straight. It's clear to him. Is it clear to you?

Erik climbs to his feet and shoves you back for a moment to breathe. Your eyes are still trained on him like you're not done. It's not only rage at him. It's toward yourself.

Blood's dripping down your neck, but you don't feel it due to the adrenaline in your body. Seems he's underestimated your ability to handle rough play.

"You need stitches."

You come at him again, and reflexively, he flings you back, which fuels your homicidal vengeance-seeking. You'll never break if he keeps dodging or pushing you back. That much is now clear.

Fuck it, he decides, looking into your rage-filled eyes. He'll give you a win just this once and if your psycho ass wants blood?

Let there be blood.

Your responding smile is contemptuous. Your eyes only flash to the knives for a millisecond, but it's done with the intention of tricking him. You want him to think you'll go for them like you went for that glass in your bedroom. That means he has to actually dive for it to give you a shot.

"How about a visual demonstration," you grin widely. "Of your death!"

As you speak, you fake and use his dive response to knee him across the face, right in his golden tooth.

"I've been hit harder during basic training," he admits, watching you seethe. "Try again."

Flinging yourself in a blind rage, you rain down every hit, every elbow blow, and every kick to his ribs, groin, throat, and everything else you can reach. He grunts, bearing it and eating every hit while remaining on his feet, even when he feels like buckling. You don't seem to realize he isn't blocking.

"Now tell me how weak I am."

"YOU'RE WEAK," you growl, swinging fists, feral with rage.

"I feel it," he growls, tensing his abs and gritting his teeth while you punch the same place you just stabbed. "That hate brewing deep for me every time you swing. When you look at me," he pauses, wondering if you've figured it out. "More."

You keep hitting that same spot. It hurts, but it ain't enough, and it won't be enough until you find some strength to hit harder.

"These princess ass punches. Reminds me of my cousin, slumped in the river like some Sleeping Beauty."

"BASTARD."

You shove him back, smashing his face as you drive your knuckles into his jaw. You were aiming for his nose, but he made a mistake and turned on reflex.

"That's it? You hit like the pillow princess you are. Maybe yo nigga dived on purpose, bored of that stiff ass pussy."

You put every ounce in your body into punching through dense muscle and bone, spurred on by his heavy grunts, and he finally bleeds from the inside of his mouth, giving you a feeling of catharsis. You need more.

"I'm all you got now," he groans, shaking his head. "You gone learn. You're Queen because I allow it! You're beholden to ME!"

He hasn't been blocking. GOOD. He needs his ass beat. You've been beating it nonstop.

"I'm Queen because I married a REAL King," you pant, your head back as you grab your hips to catch your breath. "I will REMAIN Queen when I send you to answer to Kings past!"

"Shit, I'm not worried. You can't even break a simple hold." He spits the blood. "Killing me? Impossible."

"You can ramble to your heart's content as they kick your ass across the ancestral plane."

He snorts.

"So kill me then! Whatever the fuck you think you bout to do. DO IT NOW."

The adrenaline coursing makes you feel that you can break through his body if you channel all your hate and pent-up rage, all your grief, all your stress.

"MORE," he barks, his eyes deranged and begging for your worst.

Blood drips from his mouth. He spits again like it's nothing, wiping his chin.

"THAT'S IT? THAT'S ALL YOU GOT?"

You give it and then some, putting him on his knees and audibly cracking him across the jaw. He licks his lips, puckering in a quick kiss.

You're winded. Your hands are bruised and bleeding. The adrenaline is wearing off, and your whole body is stressed.

"I KNOW you ain't tired! You gone KILL me right? I'M RIGHT HERE!" Arms out on his knees, he challenges. "KILL ME."

Your eyes go to the machete he's dropped on the floor, and he reads your mind, smirking. You scramble for the machete as he gets up.

"C'MON!"

Slashing through his bare chest twice in a narrow X, you back him up a bit. He's circling you like an animal trying to find a weak entry point. You keep your eyes trained on his.

Swinging another three times, he dodges like you're both in a boxing ring. You swing again, slashing across his stomach. Instead of backing up, he's walks into it, purposefully cutting his hand in the process of prying the machete from yours for the second time in a night.

"I'll say it again, sweetheart," he squints. "I'm not going anywhere, no time soon. AND... I'm all you have at this point in time."

The machete spins in his cut hand as his tongue rests on his canine, tasting blood.

"Then I have nothing, but I'll gain much through your death."

You throw another jab, but he catches it and redirects you to the floor, having gone far enough to prove his point to you.

"My turn."

He knows your efforts are hopeless, but you gotta know it.

"What are YOU gonna do?" You glare up at him, cocky and stubborn. "I'll only keep coming," you rant. You continue until he bends and delivers a long and slow shallow cut across your thigh through your black pants.

"Hm." He licks at the blood on the machete, intrigued. "You look disgusted... I can be real disgusting. Shall I show you?"

"AIDA," you yell. That fear is what he wanted. More adrenaline coursing through your body.

"Something about having you trapped with a knife in my hand and you at my mercy," he smirks, "It does it for me... You look terrified."

"AI-," you stop mid-word as the blade starts to press into your skin, drawing more droplets to the surface..

"Aida ain't coming for you. Nobody coming for you... What? You thought it was your idea to replace the Dora? Nah, Queen."

He only told you that to make you comply. He'd always planned to replace and eventually get rid of them completely.

"You lost to me the second you decided to survive. Slowly, I'll CONTINUE to replace everyone who ever THOUGHT of being loyal to you. You gone learn. I'M all you got and if I gotta carve you up to teach you that, I will."

As he expected, you run to the door, trying the handle, pulling, banging, trying to escape.

"I told you. They don't answer to you."

Poor lil girl, trapped with the big bad man. What will you do?

You run, staying on the edge of the room, your frightened eyes on the machete slicing through air in his grasp.

"You've run as far as you can go. Now yield... Or don't," he shrugs. "It's fun for me either way."

Slashing the machete through the air, an evil giddiness erupts from him as you hole up in a corner like a rat caged.

"Call me weak."

You're silent.

"Say it."

Trailing his fingers over the sharp blade, he waits for the word that will be his green light.

"Say it," he dares once more. "I want nothing more in this moment than to fuck you raw in a puddle of blood with you covered in my cum and me by that sweet, sweet honey. Come to me," he stops, a mere six feet from you. "I won't kill you. I swear. Just rough you up a bit."

You stare from your fearful ball, bewildered and in shock.

"No? You want me to come get you?"

That thought terrifies you more.

He tosses the machete now that you see your position.

"I can do anything to you at this moment. Take anything I desire, and no one will help you. Just like no one helped me. Just like no one helped T'Challa. When will you see I'm all you got in this world? I'm not your enemy."

Confused, you don't move. He takes a step back and waits, extending his hand once you see he doesn't plan to move.

"Truce?"

You hesitate at you're at wit's end with his manipulations and your conflicting impulses. Emotionally and psychologically, you're adrift from any stable point of being.

You take his hand.

He guides you forward, but you aren't processing. You've stopped minutes ago.

"I can't," you cry, hitting him as he stands there, taking it. "You killed T'Challa. I can't feel anything but hate for the man who murdered my husband!"

"Look, LOOK." He captures your flailing arms holding them tightly at your sides. "Listen. I sincerely mean it when I say FUCK your husband. Fuck your guilt! He's gone! You're here!"

"You INSUFFERABLE, VULGAR-"

"Stop, I'm not done. I can make the confusion stop. I can make you stop thinking. I can make you turn it all off, all of it if you say one word," he whispers, seeking a deal in trade for your soul.

"You've been disrespectful from the start, not saying my name even once. I wanna hear you say it."

"Killmonger. That's what you are, no more than a U.S. tool."

"Nope. Try again."

"Orphan. Go to hell."

He takes a deep sigh.

"That's not my name, sweetheart."

His voice is sultry, his grip strong on your arms as if it's holding the shattered peices together.

"Mm," you hum, looking away. You can't let your mind go there. You felt the same way on the airship just looking at him. It's shameful.

"Look at me," he releases your arms to hold your chin up, forcing eye contact. His touch immediately softens. "One word."

"No," you whisper. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers dig into his locks. Your lips are pressed against his. Your nails claw his scalp, sliding gently down his beard, his broad neck and shoulders, his large muscled arms, his scarred and textured chest. Your breathing is erratic as you moan with desperation.

Wordlessly, he lifts you and lays you back on the infirmary bed. Never breaking your kiss, he climbs on top and knees your legs apart, leaning between, his dick print pressed against your thigh. Your frantic hands roam and grasp at his perfectly built body, warm and weighted like a blanket, while his erection grows and grinds subtly on your hip.

That familiar clean scent of shea butter radiates from your smooth and supple skin mixed with the metallic air of sweat and blood. His own blood is smearing onto your body, and yours is concentrated at your neck.

Like the machete, the tip of his tongue fondles your collarbone, tasting blood from your skin. It's followed by a gentle suck.

You quickly remove your black shirt, pulling him back in, and his lips trail the bare skin of your breast over your bra cup. His wandering fingers slide under your pants and over your thin panties, feeling the moist heat seal an outline of your lips.

"Show me how wet you can get."

He nibbles your jaw, your breathing and the heartbeat against his hand doing all the communicating.

The breath on your neck combines with the brush of his beard and travels through the cells of your skin, lighting every erogenous zone. You push at his pants and underwear, pushing it down past his perfect ass as you try to pull him so close he slides inside.

You want the dick. You want the dick. You need the dick.

"Say my name."

Your back lifts off the bed as your hips grind independently of you. Your body craves every touch and trembles needily at pleasure.

"I really do hate you to my core... N'Jadaka."

He bites your shoulder. You bite your lip, lifting your hips for him to take your pants and your panties at once, your eyes on his.

"You sure?"

He slides in before you answer, licking his lips when you gasp and clutch his ass, pulling him deeper. You can take it and you need it. Taking your cue, he raises your calves and pushes your knees back, getting deeper. Short, slow strokes with the dick deep inside, pushing you back. You hold onto your knees as you look down, trying to see. You missed this dick. Every 4 or 5 strokes, he'll go long and push it back in, letting you feel every delicious inch.

"Say my name."

"N'Jadaka," your face scrunches, matching the pulsation that you're unintentionally doing on his shaft. You grip him on purpose this time, finding a squeeze and release method to match his speed. He's lost in it, moving like he's possessed, his eyes rolling. He keeps going.

"Fuck," you mutter, concentrating on your orgasm thats building.

"I feel you. I feel you, let go."

He doesn't have to tell you, you hold onto him as you cum, not wanting him to stop. He doesn't.

"Ooh, Erik," you moan, clawing his back. "Ooh.. ooh.. right there, don't stop."

Your legs shake as he pulls out slowly to just the tip and pushes all the way back in just as you cum. Your legs lock around his hips, your body is trembling.

He waits for your legs to release just a bit.

Eventually, he pulls back again, leaving an inch inside of you as he brings your ass closer and holds your legs up by the ankles. You moan and whimper, taking every bit of his sweet assault, your legs now against his shoulders.

Coming once more, you find yourself on top, riding fast with both hands fisting his locs. You grind forward in small circles, feeling his hands assist by lifting you when you move.

"Watch out," he warns, lifting you completely off as he cums, cream spurting on the infirmary bed. You grab his dick and stroke until it spits again.

"No," he shuts you down when you try to put it back inside of you, cum-coated and all. "Sit on my face instead."

You do without pause, grinding the same as you would on his dick with his slick tongue reaching and flicking strategically. He grips your ass, spreading your lips more in the process and sucks on your clit gently, alternating with licks until you come again and sigh, falling to the bed and rolling off of his face.

"Mm," you moan, feeling satiated. You lay on your side with your back against his side.

He rubs slow, wide, firm circles from your lower back to your shoulders and the base of your neck. As good as it feels, you still haven't processed half of what's happened. The whole moment seems surreal, like you weren't even thinking. You were moving solely on instinct.

You still hate him. That hasn't changed, but the sex...

"UH," you exhale. "I'll probably regret this in the morning. You'll use it against me somehow, and I won't be able to look at the Dora when I- Hm."

You wrap your fingers over his thicker ones briefly as he grasps your neck, pulling your head back close enough for him to whisper, "Shut up," in your ear. "You talk too much... I'm a use it, but damn. You'll survive. It's what we do."

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @tgigoldie @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybee @playgurlxoxo @imagining-greatness

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction

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jamiesfootball · 9 months

Note

one thing about me is i EXCEL at stupid ideas so! here is a Stupid Ask for your daily dopamine dosage.

post-s3, roy attempts to be A Good Coach and implements team bonding activities such as sunday board game nights. this has the unforeseen consequence of walking into the locker room monday morning to find moe and colin arguing over whether monopoly is True Capitalist Propaganda while sam sneaks jamie $200 from the bank to get out of jail next week.

This. This actually matches up well with a thing I introduce at the end of my post-season fic.

This bit is not from the post-season fic, but there are definitely some plot points I'm cribbing from it. Here have some nonsense:

There were pros and cons to the new wellness initiative in the locker room.

And 'Wellness Initiative' was the phrase they were using. Not 'show-and-tell', no matter how many times Trent suggested it. Although with how many goddamn talent shows Roy had been forced to sit through in the past weeks, the former-journo might have been onto something. For a team full of professional footballers, a lot of them had found the time to sharpen other talents.

The idea had been simple: at least once a week, they were going to sit around as a team, and they'd take turns picking a topic that had nothing to do with football.

'Share-and-tell' Beard had called it, and Roy had growled until Higgins erased the name from the whiteboard.

Books, movies, whatever song they had bleeding through their headphones in the weight room, Roy didn't care. For one hour a week, they were going to...God help him...bond as a team. Share. Communicate. Maintain the resplendent inter-team hivemind bullshit that got them so close to winning the whole damn thing the year before.

Even if Moe's lockpicking demonstration was a disturbing hour of his life that he'd never get back.

But keeping the team functioning as a team was only half of it. Truth of the matter was, it helped the little idiots to have an outlet, something to get them out of their heads for a bit so that Roy didn't end up hugging a crying player in the boot room every other week. Four times had been enough, thanks.

Colin, the second-time boot room offender, had cocked his head like a Welsh corgi and asked, "Would it be all right if I brought my piano?"

"The one that weighs 800 kilos and broke your mother's floorboards?"

The next week Colin showed up with a new electronic keyboard that did not weigh as much as a baby rhino. He spent his hour taking pop song requests.

"Do I have to do a book report?" Jamie asked defensively when his turn came around. The three weeks before his turn had gone to fucking book reports. Even Roy was desperate for a change up. When he reassured Jamie that he only had to talk about books if he'd actually read a book he fucking liked, the relief on the number-one little idiot's face had been immense.

Jamie showed up for his turn with playing cards, a case of poker chips, and a bouquet of roses. The lads spent the hour shouting about cheating, and after a surprisingly aggressive run of bluffs and flushes, Dani Rojas walked away with all the flowers.

While Roy was distracted by Dani, who lamented that now he would need to buy a florero for his flowers, and Jamie, who thought Roy's water bottle would make an excellent vase in the meantime, he completely missed the gleam in Sam's eye as the unassuming player shuffled the card decks back in order.

---

Sam Obisanya was a fucking menace. One day Roy would retain this information.

Most days it was easy to forget. He had a calming effect on Jamie, who was less prone to biting when Sam was around. This made Jamie quieter, which made Isaac and Colin and Dani quieter, which gave the overall impression that things were peaceful in the locker room.

What Roy always forgot to add to the equation was that Jamie had the opposite effect on Sam, who on a normal day would never be found smiling like a post-canary cat while monopoly cards flew around the locker room like projectile weapons.

"I'm not paying you rent again, Cockburn!" Colin shouted.

"You keep landing on my square. It's not my fault you're bad at dice!"

"Bruv, quit throwing shit. It's my turn and I almost got all the railroads."

"The railroads are statistically the worst spaces to own; you know this, yes?"

"War is inevitable in a system where capitalism is dominant," Moe pointed out from where he sat lotus-style on the bench, abstaining from participating in the 'game of the exploiters.'

"Oi, Sam," Jamie whispered, sitting up a bit to tug at the edge of the other player's jumper. "While they're fightin', can you get me out of jail?"

Sam nodded at Dani, who flicked his hand in a way that spoke volumes on how he'd thrashed the team at poker. Two beige notes appeared in Sam's hand, and just as quickly disappeared into the collar of Jamie's shirt.

"Cheers," Jamie thanked him. He settled his head back down into Sam's lap, making himself cozy like a spoiled, cheating cat. "Never was any good at Monopoly."

Sam's smile was angelic, but his eyes glinted in a way that boded horribly for Roy's heart pressure. "Next time I can bring Settlers of Catan. Or Risk."

"Ooh. Risk. Should we team-up?"

Who knew Sam's talent would be putting Roy Kent in an early grave?

#writing snippet #loosely related to #[redacted title] post season three fic #ask box is always open #thank you for indulging me #roy kent #jamie tartt #sam obisanya #afc richmond

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suckerforcate · 1 year

Text

Protecting Brienne

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Word Count: 914

Warning: some swearing, that's all

My Christmas Present to all of you, love you!

A/n: So this is my first ever request, I really hope you liked it and that I did your idea justice!! It's a bit shorter than my usually stuff, I hope you don't mind. @pastanest

You were walking through the camp the soldiers had built just a few hours ago, talking to Brienne. You were always quite fond of her coming to these things, even though it also meant you'd be immensely scared for her whenever she went out to fight. You knew she was great at fighting, but maybe, someday there'd be someone better than her.

But you didn't want to think about that now. At the moment you just enjoyed talking to her and making her laugh. Considering she rarely laughs a real, deep laugh. But the chuckles and smiles you got out of her were enough for you to be happy. So when she stopped smiling and looked a little uneasy, you directly noticed and tried to find out what the reason for that was.

At first, you hadn't heard it, but after you had stopped talking you heard it very clearly. A few soldiers, standing in front of their tent, looked at you disgustedly and didn't even try to hide that they were talking shit about Brienne.

You directly walked towards them and even though they were much taller than you, nearly as tall as Brienne, you weren't scared of them and stood your ground.

"What did you just say?" You looked up at them with hatred in your eyes.

"I said, that this monster there," he pointed at Brienne, "shouldn't be allowed to fight with us. Not just that she's a woman, but she's a disgusting one as well." He looked at his friends and grinned stupidly, like he was proud of what he said, like it was the most innovative thing. Even though it was the most uncreative, stupid bullshit you had ever heard.

"I'm sorry?! That "monster" as you call her, has a name. Her name is Brienne, and I swear to the old and the new gods, if you say one more thing about her, you will not see the sun rise again. Ever. Is that clear?" He just laughed. You knew it was probably because you were a woman, and you were so much smaller, but you were fierce.

"You think that's funny?"

Brienne still stood a few steps behind you and just looked at you shocked, it was hard wrapping her head around the whole situation.

"(Y/n), I think that's enough. Let's go."

"Look, poor Brienne is scared. Yeah, let's go (Y/n)." the guy looked at you mockingly. But you didn't think of it as funny at all.

"Fuck you. Brienne is a better and truer knight and soldier than any of you could ever be. She is stronger, better, faster and definitely more fearless. I swear, if you don't stop laughing." You took a step forward and for a split second it actually looked like the guy flinched. You were ready to risk it all.

But in the same second that you back out to punch him, you feel strong hands grab your waist from behind and pick you up. Brienne had enough of this nonsense. She threw you over her shoulder and left.

"Let. Me. Down. Brienne!" You hit her on her back and kicked your feet wildly through the air, but nothing helped. She was strong and determined. The laughing in the background just made you even angrier.

She carried you into her tent and let you down inside. Knowing you fairly well, she knew you'd try to escape, so she blocked the entrance and held you back as you tried to run her down. Unsuccessfully. Of course.

"Why did you do that?" That's when you stopped your wild movements and unsuccessful attempts to escape. That was a stupid question. Why would you not defend her.

Still in rage you answered: "Because I love you, obviously, now if you'll just let me pass my fist has an important appointment with that fucker's jaw, and it cannot be missed...why do you look so confused?"

"What do you mean, you love me?"

"Well, I don't really know what's not to understand about that. I mean I put it quite simple, didn't I? I. Love. You. The only other way to say this would probably be that I'm in love with you. But that doesn't quite put it right, I feel like that makes it sound like I'm still a teenager that..." you couldn't go on, because you suddenly felt lips crash onto yours. Brienne easily picked you up, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her neck and your legs around her torso. She moved away from the entrance and sat you down on her desk.

Against all your wishes you broke the kiss and looked at Brienne.

"You really didn't know, did you? I kind of assumed you knew and just wanted to take it slow. But considering what just happened I don't think you want to take it slow."

Brienne had to laugh at that, a shy, flustered laugh. But a real one. A true one.

"No, I didn't know. How would I? You never said anything? I don't just go around assuming people love me. I'm used to assuming the opposite." You smiled at her apologetic.

"Well, I thought it was quite obvious. I think you are just really oblivious. But I like that, just like I like the rest of you. All of it." You gently caressed her cheek and pulled her closer again. This kiss felt less passionate and less stormy but for sure neither less true nor real than the one before.

#brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #game of thrones #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #got #wlw #gay

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rafedaddy01 · 10 months

Text

Baby Mama

Series Masterlist

You still haven’t told Rafe your pregnant, you were about to and your parents walked in. You were even more nervous now than before, Rafe went home that night and you spent the whole night turning in bed too sick to sleep.

Not only did you have to break the news to your baby daddy, you had to find a way to tell you parents. They would not be happy, your dad would definitely lecture you about how young you are and your mom would cry. It would be s total shit show, maybe you could hide it?

Hopefully Rafe would not hate you, your mind raced all night with different scenarios on how to tell him and how he would react. Your relationship was so fresh, you didn’t want to ruin that.

In the morning you paced your room as you pressed send on the text.

“I need to talk to you, meet me at the club” -y/n

“Sure thing baby, I’ll see you soon” -Rafe

“I’ll be back!” You told your parents as you grabbed a light jacket and rushed out the house before you were interrogated.

Driving to the country club, your stomach turned as you thought about rafe flipping out on you and causing a scene and storming off. Leaving you, never giving you a second thought. You hoped he wouldn’t, you were falling for him hard and couldn’t imagine leaving him. But then again Rafe Cameron couldn’t be one to be tied down, you knew this which is why you expected the worst. But you needed to do this, he needed to know.

You parked and gathered up the courage, taking a deep breath and walking inside. You spotted Rafe sitting at the bar sipping on a beer. He spotted you and his eyes lit up, “took you long enough, I missed my girl” he said wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping down for a kiss.

You kissed him back and pulled away, turning your head and trying not to let the threatening tears to spill.

“Rafe, why don’t we sit down”

“Everything okay?”

You looked into his eyes that were laced with worry, you couldn’t help but let a few tears fall as he wiped them with the pads of his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. Y/n, what’s wrong. Talk to me”

“I-I don’t know how to say this..” you cleared your throat and held his hands. “Here it goes.. I’m pregnant Rafe” you froze as you expected him to toss your hands aside and walk out.

Instead his lips curved into a smile, his eyes beaming with joy.

“Are you serious!” He exclaimed, standing up and picking you up and twirling you around. All eyes giving confused looks.

“Rafe, Rafe! Put me down!” You laughed as he gently set you down. “Your not mad?” You asked looking away shyly. “Mad? Why would I be mad?” He asked wrapping you in a hug. “I don’t know, I just thought you wouldn’t want this”

“Bullshit, I love you y/n. I know it might be soon, but I can’t wait to start a family with you. This is the best day of my life, we’re gonna have a little Rafe running around soon” he said rubbing your belly. “Oh god” you playfully rolled your eyes at the thought of taking care of two Rafes.

“Come on, we’re gonna celebrate.” He said pulling your hand and heading to the exit. “Where are we going” you giggled. “We’re gonna go get anything you and my baby want to eat and then we’re gonna watch the sunset while I feed you ice cream by the ocean” he said opening the door for you.

“Rafe.. we don’t-“

“Nonsense, your carrying my child and I will spend the rest of my life taking care of you” he placed his forehead on yours and kissed your lips softly. “I love you” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours.

“I love you” you said smiling.

The two of you walked hand in hand, both smiling as he opened passenger door for you and helped you inside, coming down and kissing your belly before closing the door and jogging around to the drivers side.

“Ready mamma?” He asked as he started the engine and sent a grin your way. “Yea” you beamed, intertwining your hand in his.

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euphorickaeya · 2 years

Text

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!! pt. 4

honey’s notes: redid the whole notes because this was really old, I had something written but, it wasn’t how I wanted the story to go, and so I have rewritten it, and hopefully this is better!

pairings : Zhongli, Ei, Venti, Albedo, Aether x reader.

reader uses they/them pronouns.

[content warning : arguing, swearing, kidnapping. drugging. muttering and borderline obsession from Albedo/Venti. Mentions of a dark room, can cause anxiety.] I would like it if anyone under 16+ would not interact with this specific chapter.

recommended song: everything I wanted - billie eilish.

it has been days, since the incident. You refuse to look at your acolytes in the face, their pleads seem to get nothing out of you. Your phone has buzzed non-stop, your “friends” talking about pressing charges, and talking about how crazy, your “cosplay friends” were.

you sat in your kitchen, your coffee now gone cold, you didn’t know how it went wrong so fast. You needed to get rid of them, they didn’t belong here. Why did you even house them? Why couldn’t of you just told them to go back? Force them to work something out? You couldn’t help but space out, the sun’s rays hitting you from your kitchen window.

Zhongli and Venti stood in the entrance of the open kitchen, looking at you worriedly, you’ve been sat there hours ago. Just staring straight ahead into your kitchen window, your hands holding your coffee mug. They all knew you were angry with them. Could you blame them, though? They were reverent acolytes, everything they knew to do was in your name, it always was and always will be, till their dying breath.

Ei stayed away from you, she has cocooned herself is the guest room you’d allowed them to live in, any time you’ve walked past it, you’ve heard nothing but muffled mutters and repeated phrases from her. It creeped you out, as much as you loved Genshin Impact, this isn’t what you wanted.

You never wanted overbearing people in your life, never the overprotective glances, the suffocating clinginess they put on you, the responsibility of taking care of them, feeding them. They don’t have documents in your world, no proof of life. You knew they didn’t care to come back to their world or to stay, but they wouldn’t survive in your world, how could they? They didn’t exist as real people in your world.

You never wanted this, you’ve gotta remember that.

You let out a sigh, Venti and Zhongli perked up, you’ve moved, standing up from your seat and dumping your coffee into the sink, before looking at them. “You need to get out of here, this world, MY world.” You spat.

The two were taken aback, but, why? What did they do? Why did you want to kick them out?

“Why?..” Venti mumbled out, the small pitter patter of his feet approaching you. You put your hand up. “Don’t dare walk closer to me. Ever since you’ve been here, all five of you, you’ve done nothing but ruin my life. It was nice at the start,” you grip the edges of your kitchen island.

“But you’re a nightmare. You guys shouldn’t of come here at all, I thought, it would be nice, but you guys are scary and you’ve creeped me out.” You walked past Zhongli and Venti.

“but, your grace—“

“ENOUGH. I’ve had enough of your “grace” and god bullshit! I’m not a god! Stop putting that on me, don’t you hear me?! You’re not real!” Your hands push zhongli away, his back hit the wall, portraits and paintings fell from off the wall, colliding with your tiled floors.

“Stop this nonsense, okay!? I’m no god, I’m just a simple human being, why are you so dense? Has your belief turned you blind?!” You let your anger out, you were sick of it, the calling of your name as if it was a holy grail, the obsessive belief that anything you’ve touched has been blessed. it’s driving you nuts, you can’t live like this, it’s too much of a punishment, especially when you’ve done nothing wrong.

Zhongli and Venti stayed quiet, by now, the rest of the crew has come down to see the commotion. They stay silent as you held zhongli to the wall, you’re huffing angrily. “don’t you know, i bleed red, my eyes shine dull, they don’t shine stars, my hair doesn’t flow in the wind nor is it unnatural, i can’t command the nature of your world or mine.” Your voice felt like it was pleading, pleading to have them see that you’re normal, someone who’s got a common life, you grow, you work, you earn money.

You can’t grow money, you can’t heal anyone, you’re no miracle. “This, unreachable standard you’ve put on me along the months you’ve been here, it’s killing me. So please, just stop.” You let go of Zhongli as you step back, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Not a peep from any of your…well. Them. Not a word, from them.

“Okay.” Albedo said. He calmly walked upstairs, hands on some papers he must’ve wrote some research on. Ei no longer cried, her eyes seemed dull, as if, a doll, her puppet. Aether’s eyes went through a myriad of emotions, from hurt, to confusion, to losing hope. He knew he shouldn’t of trusted you, held out hope that maybe, if he could bring you back home, you’d convince his sister to come back to him.

Venti looked at you, before your hands, red and scuffed, he mumbled something you couldn’t hear, before his hands held yours, “if you wish us gone, then, ill make that come true, just, don’t put your anger on us anymore, that was never our intention.” His hands lifted yours to his lips, a kiss on your fingers, feeling like a gentle breeze.

Zhongli walked away, after dusting himself off, not a word to you or anyone else, just left the room. You didn’t hear from any of them, the rest of the day.

you paced quickly in front of the door to Albedo’s and Aether’s shared room, you had wanted to apologize, you felt like you shouldn’t of yelled at them, you were angry, stressed. You knocked on the pale door, “albedo?..aether?”You called out softly.

“I just wanted to apologize, I, didn’t mean to blow up in your face, I was stressed and…” you weren’t sure if you should continue. “I just..I hope you know I didn’t mean it, you guys are just as stressed as me.. I know you’ve got stuff to get to, back home..” you fiddled with your hands, hearing no response you just sighed.

You had the same reaction to the room the archons were in, not an answer. You walked back to your room, feeling defeated. “goodnight guys.” You called out to the corridor, hoping that they were okay.

You got ready for bed, an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that you’ve gotten no response, or that you’re feeling the guilt. You just hoped that you can sleep it off, try to ease yourself. Your hands ran down your face, a big sigh coming out of you.

You switched off your lamp from your bedside table, snuggling into your bed, blanket bunched up on you, being held tightly. You couldn’t sleep, your eyes wouldn’t close. You felt, like being watched. Like you weren’t alone. You scanned the room in the dark, you laid awake in the dark for a good while.

You clutched your blanket closer to yourself, unsure of whether to check out what’s creeping you out or not. after a good twenty minutes of laying in your bed in the dark, you decide to reach for your lamp when a hand clasped you mouth and wrist, a scream came out of you then, looking everywhere for your captor’s face.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’ll be okay. You’ve left us no choice, your grace. You’ve been in this world too long, too brainwashed into a mortal’s life.” The person whispered to you gently, you could feel the fear creeping up in your veins, your hands start to shake, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, this will hurt a little.” A prick in your arm makes you jump, before squirming, the person holding you seemed strong, not before long, your eyes start to droop, you could feel your strength leaving as you tried to fight till the bitter end, before your eyes closed, you could see the moonlight enter your room, as the room faded out, albedo’s melancholic smile was the last thing you saw.

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin self aware au #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #euphoric~works #albedo x gender neutral reader #venti x reader #zhongli genshin impact #ei x gn!reader #aether x gender neutral reader #IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT >:///

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malleux · 1 year

Text

freedom. | prologue

[main page] | [t.o.c] | [spellbook] | [ >> ]

young adult!atreus x reader

-> synopsis: The only times you had ever experienced adventure was through your books. It was hard to live an exciting life while trapped in Alfheim.

You know you're meant for something greater than wasting away underground.

[loosely based on the events of Gow: Ragnarok]

-> chapter warnings: all chapters may contain spoilers, slight violence, cursing

"Y/N, it's late."

A grumbly voice comes from outside your door. Dim red light illuminates your room— Twilight Stone that you had taken and set on your bedside table. The knob shakes and you quickly stash the book you were reading beneath your pillow, laying down.

Your father opens the door and raises an eyebrow at you. "Why are you not sleeping?"

"Just can't." You shrug from under the thin blankets.

"Does it have anything to do with those books we keep telling you to stay away from?" He crosses the room and sits on the side of your bed. You move your legs to make room.

"No, of course not." Your grip on the pillow tightens slightly, going unnoticed by your father. "I just stay up thinking."

He stayed silent— a cue for you to continue.

"It's just— I'm sure Alfheim is a great home. But not for me. I need to be out there, finding my place—"

"Y/N," Your father cut you off, "We've talked about this. You need to stay here, safe. Because—"

"Because I don't look like everyone else, it's okay. I get it." You rolled back, facing the rocky ceiling of the cavern you called a room.

You couldn't help but curse your circumstances at times. Your father, a Dark Elf, and your mother, a mortal. Your mother passed while having you, leaving your father to take you in and stay in Alfheim.

The Dark Elves already disliked you because you took after your mom, looking purely human despite having the same powers as them. They shunned you, and your father forced you underground to stay. Away from their prying eyes and judgement.

As if your situation couldn't have gotten any worse, once the Light Elves began to attack, the Dark Elves hid underground. The same underground that you used as your safe place. This meant that you had to further shrink yourself— away from them, staying inside your room all day instead of exploring the caverns and caves of Alfheim like you used to. They were all inhabited now.

"These books, Father, they talk about all the Nine Realms. Realms that would accept and love me. Shit, there's even books about different worlds entirely that I could try to go to— they're called Egypt, or— or Greece! Or Rome—"

"Enough! Y/N, there is a war going on here. I'm already swamped with protecting our land, so the least you can do is quit with this nonsense and just accept your fate. Groa's prophecies have proven that the safest place for you to be is here."

"That's bullshit-"

"Language."

"You mean I'm meant to spend my entire life trapped in this room? You'd think as my dad you'd want more for me and my life—"

“You have everything you could need right here.” Your father interrupted. “Food, shelter, protection. Hel, you even have the potential for a lovely husband. I bet a marriage would quell some negativity with the other Elves.”

“I don’t want a husband.” You huffed, “I want to get out of this Gods-forsaken room and live my life!”

"This conversation is over." Your father's wings flitted in frustration and he took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a tight line. "Goodnight."

He patted your leg and made his way out of your room, slamming the door and locking it extra loud just to drive the point home that you couldn't leave.

A few minutes pass and a smaller, quieter knock appears on your door. You wait a few minutes, biting back the wide grin that threatens to show across your face, before eventually throwing your blankets off and opening the door. Before you sat a stack of books— maybe four of five of them. You laughed slightly.

Fritjof.

Fritjof was your childhood friend— the “potential husband” your father continuously mentioned. He'd snuck around when the Elves first fled underground and eventually came across your room. From then on, he'd quietly visit and leave you books he'd collected. Nords knows how he gets them.

You were grateful. At least someone wanted you to cure your boredom.

You grabbed the books and locked your door back, shuffling through them to find your next read.

'The Art of Old Magic, no, Rare Fighting Spells, maybe later, Escape Magic— what?'

This book, Escape Magic, caught your attention. You placed it on your bed and hid the others underneath a pile of cloths, where you kept the rest of your stash.

Content, you snuggled back into your bed and opened the new book, determined to finish it before your father returned in the morning.

———

You had undoubtedly finished the book before the morning, and yet the next day after your father had said his goodnight, you opened it again.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, you opened the cover to the table of contents and looked for specific spells you had marked.

The first spell seemed easy enough— you thought, at least. The only magic you knew were basics taught to all Dark Elves, and some fighting spells. Your father insisted you knew how to protect yourself, should the Elves ever decide they were done housing you.

Squinting to read under the light of the Twilight Stone, you lifted your hand towards a chair in the corner of your room.

"Kippa."

The chair enveloped in a white light that connected to your hand. You cocked your head to the side, curious. You lifted your pointer finger, making the small rope of light that connected you and the chair move. In return, the chair lifted off the ground weightlessly.

Your eyes brightened— you did it!

Flicking your hand once more, you moved the chair to the other side of the room and set it down.

'Okay, one spell down. Now how do I get this chair off of me?'

You tried closing your fist— maybe to cut off the connection, but nothing worked. You flicked your wrist to the side, trying to shake it off, but the chair followed, slamming into the walls and ceiling. You cringed, and hoped nobody heard.

"Uh..." You quickly flipped through the book, "Létta?"

It was like a switch flipped, a suddenly the chair dropped to the ground, the light dissipating from it and your hand.

"Okay, next one." You mumbled. If the next spell worked, you'd be one step closer to getting out and exploring the world. Your heart raced with anxiety. "Hverfa."

Light once again danced across your vision and once it settled, you stood. You made your way across the room to a small mirror on your table. Just like you'd hoped— no reflection.

Looking down towards your hands and feet, you saw nothing but the floor beneath you.

It worked.

"Yfir-brag."

More light. E/c eyes stared back at you in the mirror. You were back.

Just in time, as well.

A soft knock echoed across your room, and you heard the lock jingle. You quickly hid everything, choosing to sit in front of your mirror and act like you were popping a pimple or just inspecting your face.

"Y/N?"

Your shoulders relaxed immediately at the sound of your best friend's voice. "Fritjof."

You stood up and gave the young Dark Elf a hug. He returned it, moving his head to the side slightly to avoid his horns knocking into your head.

"How have you been? I'm sorry it's been a while— King Svartáljǫfurr has been taking training super seriously."

You shrugged, "Same as always. Sick of this place. Have you gotten to read that book I recommended you?"

"Not yet." Fritjof sighed, "But listen to this, the Light Elves have learned to fully harness the Light of Alfheim. I know we're fighting against them and all, but isn't that cool? It just looks like they’re trying to make life easier for us.”

"Having some sympathy for the enemy, Fritjof?" You quirked an eyebrow, "Svartáljǫfurr would pin your wings to the wall if he heard that."

"That's why I'm telling you and not anyone else." He laughed, "Anyone else could tell on me. You—"

"I can't, I get it." You rolled your eyes and plopped onto your bed, hard enough to make the blankets and pillows shift a bit.

"Y/N, that's not what I meant." Fritjof walked closer to you, sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. Your eyes cut to the pillow, where Escape Magic's corner stuck out from under.

"It's okay, I understand what you did mean." You shrugged again, trying to shift your hand back towards the pillow.

“No, not at all.” Fritjof fiddled with his clawed hands for a moment, unaware of your movements. “Another thing. There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Y/N. Since I’ve met you, I’ve just had this feeling—“

Not meaning to ignore him, you tried to catch the corner of the pillowcase and tugged, but couldn't. Cursing in your head, you realized that Fritjof was sitting on the pillow, unknowingly making you unable to hide it.

"—and I just can’t ignore it any longer. I— Y/N, what are you doing—" Said elf turned around and caught sight of your fingers wrapped around the cloth pillow case, then followed your gaze to the red corner of the book.

He grabbed it.

"Frit, give it back!" You jumped up, but Fritjof was quicker. He flew up above you, taking advantage of your lack of wings, and held the book in front of him.

"Escape Magic?" He inspected the pages, "Why would you need this? Are you trying to escape?"

"Shhhh!" You peered towards the door, praying that nobody heard. "Don't say such things out loud! You gave me this book anyways. It was in the stack."

"As if I look at the stuff I get you." Fritjof rolled his eyes. "I just grab things and go. Now I guess I should've checked."

"No, this is great!" You argued, "This is what I've been needing—"

"Y/N, this is the worst idea ever." Fritjof shook his head, "What if you get caught? You'll be killed. If not by the Light Elves, then by your father. You need to stay here— stay with me.”

"I've learned spells that will keep me safe! I just have to find a way to get to The Realm Between Realms, and then I'll be free to go wherever I want. And do whatever I want. Frit, you know that's my dream."

"Sometimes dreams need to stay in our sleep, Y/N." Fritjof looked at you worriedly, "You're here for your own safety. You know that. I can't let you just go out and kill yourself. You have no idea what the outside world is like."

"I would if I was allowed to!" You argued, "I'm leaving, whether you like it or not. I can't do this for the rest of my life."

"Then tell that to your father and Svartáljǫfurr. They need to know." Fritjof left your room, slamming it shut and taking your book with him. You knew you'd have to act fast.

Quickly, you grabbed a bag from under your bed and began to fill it with your things. A hair brush, a dagger, snacks that Fritjof had snuck to you and stored in your room. You took a look at the books in your inventory as well, deciding to grab a few spell ones.

Rare Fighting Spells, Summoning, Runes and How to Use Them, Basic Magic. Everything a young lady may need to brave the outdoors.

Lastly was the Dark Elf spear that sat in your closet, untouched. Your father had given it to you when training you, but you hadn't touched it since training stopped.

Securing the bag and spear on your back, you grabbed the knob. Locked.

Lucky for you, Dark Elf magic didn't require speaking any Nordic spells. You grabbed the spear and blasted the door open, suddenly hearing shouts as the explosion was heard.

"Shit." You whispered, "Hverfa."

You checked your hands and feet to make sure you were invisible. You were proud, but celebration had to come at another time. Slipping past the Dark Elf Warriors who were coming to find you, you headed into the heart of the underground city the Dark Elves lived in.

First phase of the plan, complete. What plan? You didn't know either.

Second phase: find a way to get to the Realm Between Realms.

You remembered your father telling you that connections between realms had been severed during the start of Fimbulwinter. There was a Mystic Gateway to the Realm Between Realms in the city, but it was impossible to open.

You searched around for it, and eventually a dim blue light across the main chasm of the cave caught your eye. Everything else in Alfheim was red for Dark Elves, so you knew this had to be something different. You began your trek.

The faint light was only a little brighter as you came upon a broken pile of rocks and debris— what used to be the gateway to the Realm Between Realms. A siren sounded in the background, and you knew it was for you. You had to act fast.

Desperately, you piled up the stones and pulled out a book, flipping through the pages and praying that something would help.

Nothing.

Another book— none.

"Please, help," You whispered, opening the third book. "Opna? Hníga?"

You tried every word for "open" that you knew in Norse, but nothing worked. You sat back on your heels. You couldn't stay invisible forever— who knew if this spell had a time limit?

Tears clouded your eyes as you thought about the prospect of being stuck in Alfheim forever, now with both sides of the Elves being against you.

“Please help.”

Suddenly, a warmth began to make its way across your face. You furrowed your brows and wiped a few stray tears from your cheeks, watching the stones of the door began to tremble and shake. They seemed to lift up by themselves, glowing brighter as they created an opening shrouded in white light. You stood up in awe, backing away when it began to slowly open.

"You said you heard it from this one? You sure?" A deep, gruffly voice resounded from the other side. "I don't see shit."

"Yes, I swear I did."

The portal dimmed a bit to reveal two very small men. They peeked in, and you took your chance, slipping past them and into the Realm Between Realms.

"Well, I suppose not, then." The skinnier man sighed and turned away as the blue man closed the gateway. "I could've sworn I heard someone calling out—"

"That was me!”

[ >> ]

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helyiios · 5 months

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Gabriel in mi8 mocking Benji in front of Ethan. He knows a lot of stuff about Benji from the Entity. Imagine him mocking Benji's self-harm and maybe other personal things Ethan doesn't know about in front of Ethan.

Gabriel was rotting behind bars. It had taken Ilsa almost dying, Luther having to disappear for at least three months, Benji barely surviving frostbite in Antartica and Ethan jumping from a cliff on a motorbike, but at last, Gabriel was no longer free.

Which, all things considered, Benji should feel relieved about. Sadly, he doesn't. There's an odd pull at the back of his mind, a fear that it was not over—after all, even after London, Lane had come back, almost killing him. He'd learnt not to take jailing for granted.

More importantly, Gabriel had made a request, something odd in itself, anyway, to see him and Ethan, to, and he quotes, 'talk some things out,' which by the way, he thought was complete bullshit. He's still on his way, though, walking nervously down the IMF's large halls and cream coloured tiles, tugging slightly at the sleeves of his suit.

It was going to be fine, he thinks, you're not in danger. Ethan will be here, Gabriel can't harm you, it was going to be okay.

Ethan was also here, when Lane abducted you, a seething voice coos back at him, and he shakes it away.

Enough.

When he gets to the doors he notices that his friend was already here, running a hand through his hair (which has grown longer and thank God he hadn't thought of cutting it away just yet,) and smiling once he'd spotted the other man.

"Hey," he offers to him, a small smile curving his lips. "All good ?"

"Nervous," Benji admits, shrugging barely. "I think I liked him more when he was unconscious in the back of our truck."

"Isn't that the truth," Ethan chuckles lowly, but still raises his hand to gently grab his friend's shoulder, barely applying pressure there, "it'll be alright. Don't worry, it's not like he can do anything."

"I know. I'm just anxious like that."

"You can rely on me, yeah ?"

"Yeah."

They leave it at that, making their way to the cell, staying sat up straight as the curtain clicked open, revealing a very unkept and tired looking Gabriel staring back at them, sporting a beard and cuffs on his wrists. The glass that separates the three men does not make Benji feel safer.

There's a faint silence where they all breathe, glancing at one another, looking determined on Ethan's side, unsure on Benji's, and delighted on Gabriel's. Which was, in no way, a good thing.

"I see you've granted me of your presence," the latter says finally, voice more alike a chirp than anything else, "the IMF has a heart."

"What do you want ?" Benji forces out, his hands linked behind his back, fingers laced anxiously, "was a life sentence not fun enough ?"

"Of course not, Benjamin," Gabriel smiles, moving his attention to him, "I just thought that it would be interesting to...drop the masks, you know ? If we were to come clean, of course."

"There are no masks here," Ethan rebuts him, face commanding. "You're talking nonsense, and making us lose our time."

"Please," a laugh, "are you not interested in knowing the man who helped bring my AI down ? Knowing him more...deeply ?"

Benji shifts uncomfortably.

"I know what I need about Benji," his friend replies carefully, tone not betraying anything but disinterest. "You're bluffing."

"Oh, but I think that he's hiding a few many things from you, are you not, Benjamin ?" Gabriel retorts, locking their gazes mercilessly. "I'm not in a rush, unlike Solomon Lane was. I don't kill my preys, I play with them a bit, before engulfing them whole."

"Okay, mate," Benji snorts, "you're not," he raises his hands in air quotes, "engulfing shit. You're serving a life sentence. In hyper secure jails."

"Oh, do be careful, I can see your disgusting wrists when you raise your hands," the man grins, wolfish, pointing at him with a vague gesture of his arms. "Now, we don't want Ethan to see that, do we ?"

Benji's face visibly blanches, and he immediately drops his hands to his side.

"Leave Benji out of this," Ethan growls, forcing his own arm in front of his friend in a defensive stance, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What I am talking about ? Why, of course, about his fun extracurri—"

"Quiet," the third man seethes, eyes barely slits with wrath, "shut the fuck up, understood ?"

That seems to take his friend aback.

"Benji," he starts, worried, "are you okay ?"

"I'm fine," he replies, fists shaking, "don't listen to him."

"What ? You haven't told your little friend how you like to slash your arms when you're upset ? You mean to tell me he's never seen you in short sleeves ? Because I have, and it's not pretty."

"PISS OFF !" Benji barks, taking a step towards the cell and banging on the glass wall, teeth bared, "how fucking dare you—"

Ethan's gone quiet, eyeing Benji like he'd just told him the world was about to collapse. His mouth hung slightly open, and his brows were raised in alert.

"You'd think I didn't know ?" Gabriel mocks him, eyes at the other's level, "I saw it all, with the Entity. I saw you in that shitty motel room doing lines of cocaine after a stressful mission, and I saw you cut your arms and thighs with that very ugly razor. I saw who you are, Benjamin Dunn," he continues, voice sweet as honey, sticking everywhere and leaving sugary traces, pretending like his words were not crude and cruel.

"Ethan, don't listen to him," Benji presses on, slamming his right fist on the wall, "Ethan."

"Is this true ?" the other agent can only ask, face falling completely, "Benji, do you—do you self-harm ?"

"You weren't fu—you weren't supposed to know," his friend frustratedly says, his body not facing him, "it's just—it helps me calm down."

"Benji, I don't think scarification has ever helped anyone calm down !" Ethan protests, voice raised in sheer alarm, "fuck, I—“

"I know what I'm doing, leave me be."

"No—Benji," he insists, "I had—I didn't know, I'm so sorry—“

"I don't need your pity !" Benji shouts back, finally turning to look at him, "what I do in my free time is none of your concern, alright ?"

"Not if it harms you !"

"What the fuck happened to bodily autonomy ?!"

"Benji, please ! I just—" Ethan closes his eyes, running a hand on his face, "fuck. And that makes you laugh ?" he says brutally, turning back to Gabriel, fuming, "you think this is laughing matter ?!"

"I think it's hilarious," the man replies, face twisted in a sick, disgusting smile. "You both make me laugh."

"I'll kill you," Benji furiously spits, "I'll fucking kill you."

"Like you killed Solomon Lane ?" Gabriel beams, before having the gall to look contrite, "oops. Another thing I shouldn't have said ?"

"You k—"

"Oh, piss off," the Brit cuts him off, anger directed at Gabriel, "you know what ? Sure. Sorry you've got to learn it that way, Ethan, but I got permission to put a bullet in Lane. There."

"Benji. I had no idea," Ethan flatly says, but he doesn't seem too fazed by it. If anything, there's a twinkle of interest shining in his irises. "I hope it felt liberating."

"D'you have other secrets you want me to spit out ?" Benji cackles, looking at the jailed man, "because I can go on for days. The—you think telling the world that I self-harmed is bad ? Wait until they learn about the rest. Huh ? You don't know what I'm capable of, Gabriel. The Entity saw what I did, but it'll never see what's up there," he smiles, and it's just as crooked, and horrifying, tapping his index next to his temple. "Fuck you, you hear me ? Go fuck yourself, you fucking nonce."

He pulls away from the glass, walking past Ethan in angry steps, the soles of his shoes echoing in the wide room. He slams the door on his way out.

"You'd be lucky to live another year," the agent seethes, shooting him a furious look. "You're a dead man."

He doesn't know if his words will actually be met with actions, but a little faith never hurt anybody. Soon enough he's out of the room as well, finding Benji sat on the floor, head on his knees and arms around his legs.

He's shaking.

"Benji," Ethan softly says, letting himself drop to his level, "hey. Benj."

"I don't want to see you," his friend mumbles, "I don't want your pity."

"I'm not pitying you. I'm—I'm worried."

"You think I'm disgusting."

"I'd never think that. Least of all of you."

"You won't be saying that when you see the shape of my arms and thighs," Benji humourlessly says, shaking his head. "Fuck. Of course he knew. God."

Ethan scoots closer, so close that their shoulders brush.

"Hey. I don't think any less of you. I'm just...I wish you'd told me," he mutters, voice soft. "You know you can talk to me, yeah ?"

"It's shameful enough to me, I didn't want you to know. You won't tell anyone else, right ?"

"Of course not, Benji. I won't tell a soul."

There's a sniffle, and then Benji's looking back to him, and Ethan kind of hates himself for thinking that the blue and gold of his eyes shone even brighter on red retina.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Lane. I'm—I'm sorry."

"None of that," his friend whispers back, circling his shoulders with his left arm, pulling him against him, "I'm just surprised, I suppose. Who gave you carte blanche ?"

"Hunley."

"Ah...of course. Does Brandt know ?"

"Only if Hunley let it drop during one of their gross sex times," Benji shoots back, a hesitant smile forming on his lips.

"Ow, too far, Benj !"

"Sorry," he laughs, wiping the tears away. "Sorry. I—I actually was thinking of going to see one the IMF's psychiatrists. About—about the scarification ? And—and the PTSD. I guess."

"I think it's a brilliant idea, Benji," Ethan softly says, letting his fingers brush against the soft curls. "You're right, I'm sure it'll help."

There's a pause, something where it seemed like the other was about to say something but didn't, and the silence floats above them for a few seconds.

"Would you—" a cough, "would you mind, huh. Coming with me ? At the first appointment."

"With you ?"

"I haven't seen one since London. With, huh, Lane. I'm—I guess what I'm saying is that I'm scared," Benji mutters, looking down. "I'd like to have someone come with me. Not in the actual, huh, room, but, like. Being with me until it's time for the meeting. You don't have to say yes, actually it's silly, forget about i—“

"I'd love that," Ethan smiles back, letting his forehead rest on the crown of Benji's hair. "If you think it could help, then yeah. With pleasure."

"You mean that ?"

"And more."

Benji's face finally breaks into a beaming smile, and Ethan's heart finally starts beating good again.

"Okay," he whispers, like it was their own little secret. "Thank you, E."

"Thank you for trusting me, Benj."

#mission impossible #mission impossible fic #benthan #benji dunn #ethan hunt

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