#if u squint on the side with the broken glass u can see a very very very blurry natsu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gamermattsgf · 4 months

Text

Cherry popper // nerd Matt

Warnings: extreme smut / sub Matt x dom fem reader / glasses kink / praise kink / handjob / overstimulation / wave ride / virgin!matt / slight mention of breeding if you squint

Summary: the reader is in desperate need of help with calculus, something which Matt is willing to give her. However, Matt wants to be taught something in return, something that does not require a pen and paper… sex

Author’s notes: another sub Matt, but this time he’s a cutsey little nerd with glasses. Obvi this is 18+ but idrc, if u don’t have a problem with reading it by all means go on ahead and knock urself out. Also I got super carried away with this one it’s so long lmaoo sorry.

“Girl you make me numb, when we kiss until my tongue hurts” - Pink bubblegum, Lavi Kou

‘You want me to do what?’ You question in bewilderment, looking at the way Matt sits on the floor of your room cross-legged with his hands twisted in his lap shyly.

‘Please don’t make me say it again…’ he whines with a rosy blush on his cheeks, his glasses rested on his nose and framing his averted eyes as he manages to look anywhere but right at you. You sigh with your eyebrows furrowed, before leaning up onto your knees from your sitting position opposite him.

‘So let me get this straight, to pay for my tuition, instead of money you want me… to teach you, how to fuck someone properly?’.

Matt suddenly slaps his hands over his face, hiding how red he gets with embarrassment. ‘Stop. It sounds so stupid when you say it like that…’ he groans, his glasses smooshed right into his eyes. Your mouth can’t help but curl in amusement at this odd request, not that you mind though…

‘Well what better way is there to say it?’ You laugh through your teeth before deciding to carefully knee your way over to him. As you go, you mind not to step on all of the outspread papers with physics problems scrawled over them in Matt’s messy handwriting.

When he hears papers rustling from underneath you, he splits his middle and pointer finger apart so that he can secretly peek at your advancing figure from through his hands. Before he can say anything else, you reach him and carefully wrap your hands around his wrists so that you can pull the makeshift cover he made away from his face. ‘I don’t know…’ he sighs in frustration ‘I’m just umm… I’m just not very good at it…’.

It looks like it physically hurts him to admit this, as though he’s stepping on broken glass after every word. His wince after his frustrated confession is adorable.

‘I don’t mind y’know’ you shrug nonchalantly, not seeing the big problem with it and thinking that his nervous request is really quite cute instead. Matt perks up immediately, his eyes snapping straight to yours.

‘Really? You’d do that for me? I didn’t think you’d actually say yes… I thought it was so pathetic, I immediately regretted opening my mouth after I’d said it and I-’ he rambles to you in disbelief, using the sound of his own voice to calm his nerves after your unexpected agreement.

‘Matt, get on the bed’ you interrupt him with an amused quip, ceasing his endless stream of ranting conversation. He shuts up immediately, his eyes as wide as saucers at your commanding tone. Swallowing, his Adam’s apple feathers downwards before he’s standing up shakily.

‘Oh- yeah right, sorry…’ he nervously laughs. ‘Didn’t think we were gonna start right away…’ he speaks whilst moving his socked feet so that he can timidly sit down onto the edge of the bed, as if afraid that the mattress would swallow him whole if he moved up any further.

‘Sure, why not. You’re cute, plus, how else am I supposed to pay for my session today if we don’t start hm?‘

He watches you as you also gravitate to your feet, before loftily stepping over your books and folders so that you can make your way over to him. You observe the way his hands splay out to the sides of him as his knuckles twist your sheets within his palms. His veins are practically popping out from his skin with how hot his body is already. He’s scared. You can tell.

‘I- I suppose that’s true…’ he stutters timidly, trying to distract himself again with meaningless chatter, before you move right into his space.

You smirk. This is going to be fun. Your core flutters gently after voicing ‘spread your legs puppy’ because he does exactly what he’s told, albeit with slight apprehension. To ease his nerves, you decide to offer him a springboard to get him warmed up.

‘Why don’t we start with a little kissing, think you can do that for me? You suggest, placing your cupped hands onto the tough muscles between his collarbones and neck over his pressed shirt, stroking the skin with your thumbs comfortingly. Matt nods his head, as if in a daze. ‘Alright. So, the key to a good kiss is to start slow’ you begin, pushing his chin and up and ducking your head down.

You press your lips into his, getting a feel for their shape and wetness before Matt can’t help but let out a subdued whimper at the contact. You smile into it. Pulling back, Matt leans his head upwards as if needy to reconnect them, but you still have to give him his lesson. ‘Nothing open mouthed yet, you need to tease them first before you give them what they want, ‘kay?’ You lecture him, and he watches you attentively from his position on the bed beneath you. ‘Yeah okay… makes sense’ he shrugs cluelessly.

‘After that, only briefly use your tongue, maybe lick their bottom lip a little- like this’ you connect you lips once again before slicking out your tongue to pass it over the fullness of his lip.

Matt’s eyes are closed and his head is tilted to the side in enjoyment. You retract to feather your nose against his. ‘Okay now you try…’ you command him, with words of encouragement. Matt’s eyes peek open to flick down to your lips briefly, before closing them and getting lost in the moment whilst he leans down to capture your set in his.

Perhaps too lost.

You yelp quietly when Matt slots your bottom lip in between his teeth and bites harshly, tugging it down, only to let it recoil back up into place between his heavy kiss. He’s a little sloppy with it and you jump back, clearly caught off guard. His eyes snap open and look and your puzzled expression.

‘Sorry! M’so sorry, was that not good?’ He worriedly bumbles, thinking that he’s messed up grandly. But you only shake your head, pressing one of your hands up into your lips to graze over them. ‘No… that was actually really good, keep doing that…’ you utter in disbelief. Matt sighs gratefully, before you lurch forward to join your selves together a little harsher this time. Your teeth clash melodically, and saliva is exchanged at a quickened pace.

It only gets more frantic after you mumble ‘gimme your tongue baby’. Matt obeys obediently and dips his tongue to lick into your mouth. Is it messy? Yes. Does it make you wetter than anything though? Also yes. ‘Good boy’ you eek out in between pants and heavy tongue brushes.

As you kiss, you lift one of your knees up into your mattress, and prominently press it towards Matt’s crotch. He takes this as a sign for him to shuffle further up onto the bed, which he does so, still with your mouths connected and your lips feathering wetly.

After a while of just letting your mouths get familiar with one another, you pull away to face Matt.

‘Let’s do something easy for your first lesson shall we? Have you ever touched yourself before?’ You gently ask, kneeling in between a poor Matt’s spread legs. His chest is heaving shyly and his face is practically as red as a tomato. ‘Umm… well- yeah, a couple of times…’ he looks down to the floral bed covers of your bed whilst the frame of his glasses slides delicately down his nose. You reach out your fingertips to quickly brush his shaggy brown hair strands from out of his eyes before pouting.

‘Aw puppy… you don’t have to be shy, I’m not gonna judge’. After clearing his hair away, one of your fingertips drops to curl and stroke against his right cheek which burns hot with fiery humiliation. He gazes up at you with the eyes of a baby deer’s before gulping as his Adam’s apple bobs again.

‘Can you… can you show me how to do it properly?’ He breathlessly asks, shyly averting his gaze whilst you tilt your head with a cheeky smile pointed right at him. ‘Of course baby boy, that’s what mommy’s here for isn’t it?’.

Matt likes the mommy comment a lot more than he’s willing to admit. Scratch that, he loves it. He feels so safe, so babied within your hold, and he wants to stay here forever. Swallowing nervously, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Smacking your lips at the sight of Matt obviously fidgeting in anticipation, you decide to reach your own hands to grab his wrists. ‘C’mere, gimme those pretty hands’. He looks at you with heaving shoulders, now even the back of his neck as red as anything with embarrassment.

You could tell that he’s humiliated because of how much he’s enjoyed this. He also definitely doesn’t want it to stop. So you don’t let it.

Moving from in between his spread legs, you straddle his lap as you place your thighs onto either side of his hips, squeezing them softly, which makes him choke out a tiny gasp. Equally, you’re leant forward enough to fully be able to pin his wrists to the bed so that now he’s completely defenceless.

‘Oh, before we start, tits are really important too. If you want to get a girl wet, you need to play with them’ you coach him once again. Matt pays the upmost attention to what you have to say, his head nodding hurriedly once again.

Deciding to mess with the poor nerdy boy further, you mischievously smirk before mumbling ‘I suppose we could merge two lessons into one… I’m not wearing a bra, so does my baby boy want to see mommy’s tits…?’. Matt gulps and fumbles another ‘oh god’ in utter disbelief whilst you watch the way his pupils flick to your heavy chest and dilate. ‘I’ll take that as a yes then’ you conclude based off of the way he’s practically drooling for them. Poor boy has probably never seen a naked pair in real life before.

Using one of your hands, you reach it to the bottom of your shirt and pull it up over your tits, that quickly spill out and reveal themselves to be resting gently on your chest. ‘F-fuck’ you hear Matt say, and a part of you throbs after physically feeling his cock swell upwards from underneath you. ‘Yeah? You like them?’ You tease, squeezing them together with your arms and then letting them jiggle back into their resting positions. Matt’s cock rises more and presses up into your heat whilst he nods hypnotically, his mouth hung open with his fingers twitching uncontrollably.

‘Wanna taste them honey?’ You coo motherly, before leaning forward and thrusting them into his face, he looks at them in disbelief and blinks with a small ‘can I?’, before you encourage him with a ‘go on baby boy… they’re all yours, this is important’, which finally gets him to open his mouth and give one of them a timid little kitten lick first to test the waters, before he slots the hard bud into his mouth fully and prods his tongue over it.

‘Try sucking on them… that’ll drive a girl crazy…’ you mumble breathlessly, already feeling your slick wetness trickle from your hole as Matt quietly begins to suck harshly on your nipple.

This ripples pleasure all down your spine, and you can’t help but curse into the air, your hands still in a firm clamp over his wrists. However, as he constantly sucks, you begin to rock your lower half backwards and forwards, which only thickens him more. You can feel him throb achingly from below your clothed cunt.

He uncontrollably now moans loudly into your tit, still sucking on it defencelessly because of the way his wrists are continuously compromised by the control of your hands. Licking your tits is the only thing giving him friction whilst your lower halves sensually rub together.

‘I bet you’re so big Matt’ you suddenly decide to seductively mumble, wanting to see just how far you can get this perfectly sweet boy worked up. The same sweet boy who comes to class every morning with a smile on his face, ridiculously smart clothes on and an impossibly strict attitude to learning and note taking.

You wonder what that Matt would say about this one, that sits here in your bed, his notes for studying scattered all messily across the floor, forgotten about, as he instead enjoys your tits and freely moans into your skin at your dirty praise.

‘I bet that deep down you’re an absolutely filthy fucking slut. I just know you’re nice and thick. I can feel you so much already… and you’ve been keeping it all to yourself. How selfish of you’ you tut. Matt hisses quietly, his eyes screwed up in a puppyish way as you compliment him. His stretch is definitely going to burn so fucking good when you finally think he’s prepared enough to fuck you.

‘Can I be the first one to see, pretty please?’ You pout, and Matt has to pull away from your hard tit just to gaze up at you moonily with his mouth hung open, tit drunk already and his shoulders heaving. With his permission of a shaky nod and the lick of his lips, his watery blue eyes flick downwards and innocently look at the way you now shuffle back to your starting position between his spread legs. Both of you look down at the tent formation of his pants in between his thighs, before one of your hands just can’t help itself. It glides up to cup him slowly.

‘See that? That was dirty talk… also very important for someone’s pleasure, we can practice more of that next time though…’

‘Yes please!’ Matt breathes, seemingly eager and liking the idea of hearing more of what you have to say to him in that kind of tone.

The light touch of pressure sets Matt off immediately and he has to fully expand his chest before expelling out a choked up whine of pleasure. He uncontrollably throws his head back and bucks his hips greedily up into the rub of your flattened palm.

‘Ugh… ugh… f-fuck’ he jerkily moans a continuous whimper, before unexpectedly cursing with a shaky pant at the pressure of your hand. ‘Jesus Matt you’ve got a dirty little mouth don’t you?’ You respond. It’s cute how he doesn’t know how to react, and so all of his pressure transforms into helpless sounds. You smirk even wider, loving what it does to your confidence.

‘A very important step is to always ask permission, just so the girl doesn’t feel pressured okay?’. Feeding your hands into the waistband of both his pants and underwear, you coax him to lift his hips upwards and he’s such a good boy because he does exactly what he’s told with no follow-up questions asked.

‘O-okay… please… please can you touch me now- I’m really sore’ Matt acknowledges before panting impatiently and helping you shimmy his pants off.

After you struggle to pull them down you see why when his cock bobs hungrily into the air, his tip already wet and sticky and pink like his lips that are currently bitten between his teeth self consciously. He look in between his cock and you as you observe him, his hips squirming shyly underneath the scrutiny of your stare. You practically drool as you gawk at him, wanting your mouth on his cock but also wanting to sit on it at the same time.

His thickness is perfect and the inconspicuous vein running up the side of him makes you clench. His happy trail also oddly attractive, but he simply sits there sheepishly and watches you take him in.

‘You’re… you’re not disappointed… are you…?’ He pitifully mumbles, looking down at one of his hands that distractedly picks against the lint on your bed covers. You find it within yourself to gasp at his utterly ludicrous statement.

Careening your face into his, you get up onto all fours, and he nervously jumps back a little, before almost choking on his breath after you spit into your hand and waste no time in wrapping it around him.

‘Matt you’ve got such a pretty cock…’, you praise and Matt then opens his eyes to gaze up at you with his glassy pupils, his mouth also open and expelling the cutest little pants every time your hand strokes downwards. Your spit is sticky, and Matt arches his back at the slimy consistency of your hand jerking him slowly.

‘Oh…’ he stutters with breathless embarrassment, his face going even more red at yet again another compliment before his back arches and his toes curl at the feeling of you thumb coming up to touch his sensitive tip.

‘How long does it normally take you to cum puppy?’ You muse in fascination, watching the way Matt squirms from underneath you. ‘Uh- I- umm… maybe -fuck- a couple of minutes?’ He mumbles, his voice sounding a little delirious as he struggles to concentrate on the sound of your voice. He’s too focused on the slow circular rub of your thumb against his tip. You raise your eyebrows. ‘Jesus Christ we’re gonna have to build that up’ you state, knowing that he’s definitely not going to last long.

And you’re right, it doesn’t take him long at all. Because only a couple of minutes after working on him, he gives you no other warning besides a loud moan and a hitched ‘I- I think I’m gonna-’ before a thick layer of cum spurts from out of his tip and splatters onto his stomach accidentally. This catches you off guard.

‘Shit’ You state in awe as you continue to pump him, curiously watching the way he whines as if he’s about to cry with his eyes scrunched shut over his squinted glasses.

Matt gets breathless very quickly, his chest heaving as his fists claw at your bedcovers and his legs spread unconsciously.

‘Ow- ow, ouch- fuck!’ He suddenly starts to cry instead of his euphoric whimpers. You quickly realise he’s falling overstimulated due to his orgasm and you let go of him. But when you do, you realise something…

‘Fuck baby you’re still kinda hard’.

Matt’s flushed face tilts downwards to look at his lower half, his stomach an absolute mess coated in him cum, but his cock still painfully throbbing.

Wasting no time at all, your hand leans forward again. Quickly you’re whipping your fingers over Matt’s stomach to scoop up some of his lukewarm cum. You wrap his cock back up into your fist and Matt tenses, hissing in aggravated pain.

‘What are you doing?!’ He pants out, before scrunching his face up uncomfortably.

‘Teaching you how to wave ride off of your first orgasm puppy, it looks like you need one’ you say, effortlessly slipping back into your teaching mode before you decide to use your other hand to grab his glasses from off of his face.

Matt watches with carnal desire at the sight of you slipping them onto your own face, the frame just low enough on your nose so that you can see over his prescription lenses. Something about you wearing his glasses just makes him feel feral with lust for you. It’s not like he hasn’t fantasised about something like this before, he’s just always felt really shy around girls and has never been able to execute it until now. He hasn’t exactly been oozing sex appeal as of late…

‘There, that’s better isn’t it?’ You sigh and admire the way he wriggles around beneath you, clearly in overstimulation.

Matt moans as if he’s in heat whilst deciding to bend his arm and hide his face into the crook of his elbow, his other shaky hand twisting the bedsheets and turning white at the pressure he keeps on them as you continue to touch him into oblivion. He utters high pitched pants and whimpers at regular intervals, especially after everytime your hand squeezes tightly around him, his throbbing cock slickly gliding over your hand with every bounce.

‘Ugh fuck you’re gonna make me feel so full later Matt’ you utter, his cock feeling so lengthy and thick around your small hand.

He only shakes his head in return, his cock throbbing in approval at the phrase as he releases hot breaths into the already thick atmosphere. Below you, simple instincts of his take over and he’s beautifully responsive to your touch by greedily thrusting upwards into your hand.

Pouting and humming sadly, one of your hands comes up to pet his right cheek below the cover of his arm. ‘Why are you hiding from me baby boy?’, to which Matt’s incoherent mumbles are just as naive and innocent as the rest of his actions thus far. As if his cheeks aren’t red with humility at himself enough, they invade more of his face now and even turn the tops of his ears a dusty cherry shade.

‘Cause- it’s so- so embarrassing…’ he stutters a tiny choked-up whine at not wanting you to look at him whilst he becomes extremely overstimulated.

He feels humiliated because the sounds and faces he makes after his first orgasm are even worse than the ones he made the first time, his cock already swollen and sensitive. Perhaps he also feels disgusted by himself and would prefer not to register the way his body is reacting? But to be completely honest, if you didn’t know any better Matt sounded like he wanted to be fucking breeded on the spot because he was moaning for you to take him that loudly.

‘Aw puppy… nothing to be embarrassed about… I’d be acting just the same if it were you who were touching me, I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum’

Timidly and with slight apprehension, he carefully lifts his arm from off of his face and reconnects eyes with yours. ‘Can you…’ he peeps, but quietens again, nervous to say it in front of you. But you nod your head encouragingly. ‘Go on baby’. He continues…

‘Can you call me a good boy again?… I- I really like it…’ he mumbles guiltily, his eyes refusing to meet your intense gaze as they wander about the floor instead. You throb at his submissive response.

‘That gonna help you cum baby?’ You question teasingly, and Matt nods quickly, a shaky hum in approval choking its way up his throat.

‘Fuck you’ve been so great for your first lesson… such a good boy, taking my hand so well, and so brave for taking two orgasms at once aren’t you?’ You praise him, and Matt arches his back once more, his blue eyes tearing up at just how sensitive he is now. He twitches furiously in your hand as his head throws itself back.

‘Need to cum now puppy?’ You pout playfully and quicken your hand. His breaths pant at the new pace. ‘Y-yes’ he wheezes, so you easily let him.

‘Go on sweet boy, you’re allowed’.

At this, he cries out, another even stronger level two orgasm hitting him and rattling through his gut. He’s loud, but you love it, and stroke his cock until all of his cum is spent.

Coming down from his high, he looks exhausted after the earth shattering orgasm you have just given him. All you do is smile and giggle as his rising and falling stomach calms itself little by little. Getting up from the bed, you hover over him before leaning in to kiss his cheek softly. He looks at you with his mouth hung open and his blue eyes babied.

‘Now it’s time to teach you about aftercare’ you muse sweetly, before shuffling off to find a cloth to clean Matt up, who is left on your bed with a dreamy smile on his lips…

Author’s notes p.2: thank you to my bbg @strniohoeee for helping my indecisive ass pick this idea to write next out of all of my drafts. Love love love. If you see any typos… no u don’t. The question is… do I do a Chris one now? Or another Matt one. Pls request ;)

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #mommy k!nk #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

2K notes · View notes

tinalbion · 1 year

Text

A R E A L H E R O | e i g h t

You move to Evergreen for a fresh start, you’ve inherited your grandparents’ place, and then you meet the sweetest guy. But there’s a duality to him, something a bit darker. Then you meet Vigilante, a killer anti-hero who just looks out for the safety of Evergreen, but the dangerous side of him appeals to you more than you care to admit.

》MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT《

Pairing: Vigilante x f!Reader

Rating: Mature; Reader makes a brash decision, mention of murder, blood, the usual when it comes to this group.

Length: 6.2k

p a r t 8 | a m o u r

A/N: No smut in this chapter, only because it’s more story building time, and it’s important! But we may be graced in the next chapter~

You shouldn't have even THOUGHT of doing this in the emotional state you were in, it was wrong and ultimately went back on your conversation of trust, and yet you're the one who would break it first.

You tried to talk yourself out of this the further you walked up to the dirty glass of the abandoned movie store, but there you were as you cupped your hands over your face so you could peer into the setup, barely able to see anything through the random posters plastered all over the place. There had been a series of blurry figures you could make out until you stepped off to the side and found a peeling patch of newspaper that they hadn’t fixed just yet, so you squinted to make out whatever it was you were looking at.

You saw Vij, Peacemaker, and another man in the room, all chatting with one another as they had been packing things up like weapons and such. You were torn inside, wanting to get answers to what they were doing and why Adrian was distancing himself, or you could have relied on him to tell you in his own time. But with him, you never knew if the day you saw him would be your last to see him, you had always worried about his choice of pastime activities, especially last week when he came to you with a broken spirit and a damaged foot, you had an inkling of a hope that maybe he’d take it easy.

It only started to fester deep within you earlier this week, and despite the things you said to Adrian the last time you saw him and bandaged his foot up properly, he still hadn't confided in you much about anything. His texts were scattered and brief, but he still meant the sweet words he sent to you, but he was obviously distracted to the point there was very little interaction.

You had even tried to visit him during one of his shifts, but he'd apparently called in due to "having the flu", to which you covered for him immediately and then left the restaurant feeling confused and worried.

At one point in your deep thoughts and overthinking, you asked Adrian why he had to be dropped off by the blonde woman that night, to which he instantly tensed as you sat beside him on his sofa.

“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad. The Seabring break down?”

He took a breath and shrugged uneasily. “Harcourt was nice enough to drive me home because I was thrown in jail, so I didn’t have the car.”

You turned to him and stared wide-eyed. “WHAT?”

“Look, it wasn’t THAT big of a deal! I just tried to throw a garbage can through the police station’s window.”

“Adrian, what the fuck, why?” Your voice raised and you didn’t mean for it to seem like you were yelling at him, but you were so shocked that you couldn’t understand what the hell went through his head.

He grumbled and sighed. “Leota, one of the people I work with, kept saying how bad Peacemaker’s dad is, how shitty Auggie is, and he IS. Racist piece of shit, he’s always making his life miserable. So she said she wished he was out of the picture so Chris could be happy… So I figured I could make him…go away. He was already in jail, so I figured I’d just deal with it there before he got out.”

“Adrian… you didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t, I fucked up and didn’t do it.”

You sat there and looked at him as he faced the television, the pain was apparent sketched into his features, so you placed your hand on his shoulder and offered him a smile. “I’m proud that you didn’t do it, babe, you wanted to help your friend and I respect that, but those are his demons to face and he needs to deal with them, no matter how much you wanna help.”

“Yeah, I know, but still…”

You chuckled and leaned your head on his shoulder as you sat in silence with him, but soon after, he said he had to go home, despite you offering him to stay the night. Adrian declined and said he had a lot on his mind that he needed to work on, so you nodded and watched from your window as he left.

Since that night, you worried for him so much that his friendship with Chris wasn’t exactly normal, though it wasn’t your business. He seemed to be incredibly dedicated, which was a valuable trait in a friend, but you hoped that wasn’t being exploited by the others in this group. As always, you worried, and in return, he worried about you.

But how could he involve you and sacrifice your safety with everything going on? Wouldn't that be absolutely selfish of him to do so? The more he thought about everything that was going on with what he was involved in, the more he wanted to tell you and express his worries, his thoughts, all of it. It ate away at him that he couldn't tell you, and despite his protests to Harcourt, she scolded him AND Adebayo about involving those closest to them, their safety was important despite how much they wanted to keep them close. Leota reluctantly agreed and felt guilty about sending her wife away, but Adrian almost brushed it under the rug and dealt with the growing dread that sat in the pit of his stomach. He sat in silence sometimes and his thoughts drifted to you and how you would be handling his distance, he knew it was wrong of him, but how else could he tell you to stay away from this whole butterfly ordeal without revealing too much?

But when he saw you burst through the door of the video shop with that look on your face, he knew something was going to happen and it wouldn’t end well, but he froze to the spot when you glared directly at him as he held a large black container.

"Adrian you absolute asshole," you spat as you flung the door open. Still, you couldn't get another word in until the man known to be Peacemaker stepped forward, his hand gripped onto a black duffle bag as he looked absolutely confused by your presence.

"Hey, lady, you got the wrong place of establishment," he said in a slightly raised tone.

"I don't think I do, because he–" you said while pointing at Adrian– "is just the man I need to talk to."

"You know this crazy chick?" Peacemaker turned to Adrian with a distasteful expression.

"Uh yeah, she's my girlfriend." Adrian looked over at you and gave you a meek smile and a half-hearted wave.

“No she’s not,” he argued, dismissing Adrain completely.

“Yes, I am.”

The room went silent for a moment. Both John and Peacemaker looked at the brunette man and just stared, mouths hanging open in disbelief.

"There's no way this fucking idiot has a girlfriend," Economos said.

"And one that hot," Peacemaker mentioned. “Oh, I get it, is she a nerd like you? Met her playing one of your fruity little dungeons and dragons games?” He turned to look over at Adrain, who seemed to be overwhelmed by everything going on.

You turned to look at the man with a scowl on your face. "First off, don't call my boyfriend an idiot," you snapped at the large, bearded man. "And second," you whipped your head toward Peacemaker, "watch your mouth, this isn’t your business."

"You're kinda making it our business when you're busting down the door and yelling at the only people in the room," Peacemaker stated.

You gave a sigh and shook your head, but you walked up to Adrian with your consistent glare, then pulled him off to the side. "Can I talk to you in private?"

“Vij, we don’t have TIME for this, we have a cow to– SHIT to do!”

"You shouldn't be here, babe, what if the others come back and see someone they’ve never seen before? They could freak out."

"People freaking out is only a problem for you when it's one of these members of the half-assed Justice League, but when I'm the one freaking out, it's not that bad, right?" Before he could speak, you cut him off. "I don't understand you, Adrian, you're distancing yourself from me and it's not like you at all! I don't mind supporting you with whatever is going on, but you're scaring me…" Your words trailed off and felt almost too embarrassed to admit it. “I don’t know what’s happening with you and I wanna know what’s going on.”

Adrian looked at you and stared, he couldn't come up with an excuse for how you'd been treated, but he also wasn't sure what to really say in front of the others in the room.

"Sounds like trouble in paradise over there, Vij, she ain't keeping you pussy whipped, is she?"

When your eyes met the man's, he seemed incredibly unbothered by your poor attempt at intimidation, but you couldn't help the intensity of your hatred after hearing this man only speak a handful of times.

"I wish Adrian would have warned me about how you can't seem to keep your mouth shut, but I guess I found out the hard way. Now can you shut the hell up?"

"Jeez, you really need to ease up," Peacemaker groaned as he shook his head. “Either way we gotta fuckin’ go and soon, guys, this place is gonna be swarmed any minute now.”

"Can you guys stop talking about me as if I'm not even here?" Adrian said, the tone in his voice conveying his frustration. "Look, I get that I fucked up and shouldn't have pushed you away, but I can't tell you what's going on here thanks to these guys telling me to keep my mouth shut." He offered you a calm expression and then turned to his friend, who he stared at with much more annoyance. “And can you at least try not to be a dick to her, I don’t care if it’s aimed at me, but fuck dude?”

You glared at Peacemaker and took a step closer to Adrian, feeling the distrust of everyone in the room except for your boyfriend, who just seemed to be wrapped up in all this shit without really knowing what he was getting into.

“He wouldn’t be in this shit if it weren’t for you,” you pointed at Peacemaker, “ever since you came back he was so happy that ‘his friend was back’, and now, he’s running off doing your bullshit for these clowns.”

“Hey!” Economos complained.

“Look, I don’t know you, for all I know you’re the reason he’s here.”

Peacemaker erupted into a fit of laughter. “Fuckin’ dye beard here couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag and you think he can conduct a mission to kill butterflies?”

Your brow furrowed. “Butterflies?”

Adrian’s eyes widened as he stared at Peacemaker. “Chris, shut UP. Don’t involve her.”

“Why?! What is so damn important that I can’t be involved to the point I don’t know if my boyfriend is alive or not?” You were getting way too worked up to think properly, but you had a suspecting feeling that there was more going on here. “This isn’t just a simple hit mission, is it?” You turned to Adrian and your pleading expression spoke volumes.

He sighed and looked down, but then leaned in and kissed you softly, one you didn’t want him to pull away from. “I promise you I’m gonna tell you everything, but you gotta trust me, okay? I don’t want shit happening to you… Not again."

How could you stay mad at him when all he wanted to do was keep you safe? It was once again falling under the entire identity thing and if they could use something or someone he loved against him, he'd never forgive himself if you were caught in the middle.

"Things are getting intense and we gotta go, but I promise I'll be back and we can talk about whatever you want, I swear. I just need you to lay low, the group’s head guy doesn’t want anyone on the outside involved just because it’s not safe. I want you to be safe,” his sentence trailed off and he smiled at you.

“Adi, please, I don’t want you doing this, what if–”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t get involved in this right now and I’ll tell you everything.”

"Vigilante, you can't just–" Economos began, but Adrian cut him off.

"No, I owe her that much, you weren't there when she was taken! She needs to stay safe, but she's gotta know."

Peacemaker scoffed and began to shove his guns back into their holsters. "Your funeral."

You spun to face Peacemaker again and stepped up toward him. "What the fuck is your problem, huh? Are you so spineless that you must demean everyone in this room just to feel like the big tough badass? No one gives a shit, Chris," as you drew out his name, they could hear the venom in your voice. When you stormed off toward the door, Adrian called out to you. You stopped at the door and looked back.

"I promise." He seemed so sincere, and you wondered just how far that promise would come, so you offered him a small smile and left them in the shop.

Economos felt incredibly uneasy as he stared at the pair of friends as he shifted slightly, and decided he would go and check on Judo Master, their captive that knew about and willingly worked with the butterflies.

"Ahh shit, he's gone, he's gone! Judo Master is gone!"

Adrian peeked in and looked around, obviously confused. "Judo Master was in here?"

You walked to your car as cautiously as you always did, slid into the seat, and locked the doors as soon as you leaned back into the seat. Your hands rested on the steering wheel, but all you could do was stare out the windshield, your gaze set dead ahead as you tried to empty your head of all your thoughts. You trusted your boyfriend, you had even before you knew it, but you definitely didn't trust the people he hung around.

As you thought of his promise, you couldn't get the fact that Peacemaker had been absolutely shitty toward him regardless of the situation, was he like that all the time with Adrian? His presence made your blood boil as you thought of his smug look, looking down on Adrian in that short amount of time. Your attention was stolen by the sudden burst of the door being flung open with force, the three of them ran to the large RV and piled into it, you watched as they disappeared into the vehicle and closed the door, and your body lurched forward slightly as you couldn’t help but release a sob you’d been holding for some time now.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself in annoyance.

Whatever the case, you took his words into account and drove out of there as fast and legally as you could, because if the place was going to be surrounded, might as well get the hell out of the vicinity in case you got caught and questioned.

You figured you should get some lunch for home, get some paperwork done for work, and just keep yourself at home before anything got too bad.

As you pulled into the driveway, your food in hand as you went to unlock the front door, you couldn't help but feel a deep sinking feeling in your gut. You worried about Adrian all the time, but something about the urgency of today and hearing whatever the hell about the butterflies, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

You sat cross-legged on the sofa and flipped through channels as you ate your takeout, you stopped on a news channel that had the headline: Captain Locke Press Conference - possible link to Sturphausen and Goff murders. It stated that Christopher Smith, also known as Peacemaker, has the belief that aliens are posing as humans and it's his job to find and kill them.

"Find and stop the Peacemaker by whatever means necessary."

Your eyes bulged as you stared in disbelief at the fact there had been a 33-victim massacre at the Glan Tai Bottling Factory, all of which Adrian probably knew about and had possibly gotten his toe injury from all of this. You sat back and almost dropped the container of food as you lost all function of your limbs, you were dumbstruck.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK, this isn’t good.” You stood up from your seat and began to pace back and forth, your food was long forgotten as you wondered what you could do before anything had gotten too out of hand, but the real question was should you even get involved when Adrian specifically asked you not to?

You’d been captured and tortured, you had gone down that road and wanted nothing to do with getting caught again, mainly if Vigilante was too preoccupied to save your ass again, you needed to think of a way to help any way you could. The more he associated with Chris, the more danger he was in for getting caught in the crossfire, and if his identity was compromised… You scolded yourself and shook your head, what you were thinking was absolutely insane, you’d barely held a firearm except for the times you practiced with Adrian, but you knew that wouldn’t be enough to save you if things went south.

With a frustrated growl, your fingers slid across your hair as you thought until your head pounded and you couldn’t think straight, so you decided without much hesitation that you’d raid Adrian’s stash of guns and do what you could to make sure he’d live. You owed him that much.

As you drove to his place, you talked to yourself in the car, berating yourself for the choices you were making, you figured that if you went back now he wouldn’t hold it against you. He did his job of keeping things as silent as he could without involving you, despite how he’d gone about it, so he wouldn’t be upset that you wouldn’t be there. But even as you went inside his place, you rifled around his things and grabbed all you could as you strapped his holster to yourself, and you felt as if you could take on an army. You made sure everything was back in its place and properly put away until your eyes swept over the nightstand, where he kept the first photo of you and him that you took when you guys officially started dating. A smile crept across your face and you settled on your plan; you were going to help him no matter what.

It was a stupid idea to an outsider, sure, you were planning to burst into a facility with no way of knowing who or what you’d come across, but you knew the group Adrian was working with would be there, trained guns for hire, so you’d possibly get lucky and somehow manage to live.

You walked over to the police scanner, listening in on anything that you could pick up on the whereabouts of the Peacemaker, and with a bit of patience as you turned the dial as slowly as you could, you picked up on an intercepted conversation, the radio static barely allowed you to hear it until you finally set the dial and it was clear as day.

“-the Peacemaker was seen headed north-west down Highway 99 in a Burgundy 2016 Ford Fiesta, two other suspects in the vehicle, possibly Vigilante accompanying them. Calling in a 10-85 to follow to Coverdale Ranch.”

“10-04.”

“Shit,” you huffed and shut off the machine, then you headed out in your car and didn’t look back. You pulled out and began your lengthy drive to Coverdale Ranch, the infinite possibilities of the situation ran wild in your mind, but all you knew is that Adrian could be in heaps of trouble, and you wanted to help him as he had helped you.

Though you had trained with him in the basics of weaponry and self-defense, you couldn’t help but shake the feeling that you’d be more of a burden than an actual help to them, but if you died doing this, you had felt that you wouldn’t regret the choices you made. You’d loved him despite everything, you loved the times you shared, even loved the strange and wild way you both met. Your foot pushed down further onto the pedal, the speed picked up and you would make it, you had to.

The field was a bloodbath and you were out of your depth, your hands shaking as you ran past the dead group of people on the ground, blood splattered everywhere as you ran toward the center of the fighting, the gunshots rang louder than you expected and caused you to constantly flinch. You saw the familiar faces of Economos and Harcourt, Economos was on the ground, making his way to the firefight as the blonde woman was shot several times, then she fell to the ground and coughed up a large amount of blood.

Everyone was in a panic and yet they continued to fight until they couldn’t anymore, except you couldn’t see Adrian anywhere, and that’s when you began to panic. Your eyes searched for him frantically as you held your gun as you were taught, but you were pulled out of your search by the scream of a man who bolted right toward you.

You tensed but eagerly spun to have your barrel meet his face, and with a quick breath and a fast aim, you shot at him and braced for impact. None ever came. Blood spurted from his throat and he collapsed to the ground, his movements slowed until there were none at all, and you couldn’t get over the fact that you killed someone.

‘You knew this would happen if you interfered, there’s no reason to back out now, Adrian needs you. Keep going.’

A few more stragglers that made their way to you were easily taken care of, their movements were sporadic and sloppy, so you were able to dodge them by controlling the speed of your feet. You stopped quickly and allowed one of the attackers to swipe at nothing and you watched him tumble over almost comically, then you shot him square between the eyes. You were more confident in your abilities now, but you still wouldn't allow yourself to grow an ego, you needed to focus and be sure to keep yourself alive long enough.

Your feet took you as fast as they could go toward the group that was gathered in the center of the chaos, Ecomonos had finally reached the halfway point as you booked it past him, and he paid you no mind. Finally, you saw the suit you’d been so well acquainted with, and a wave of relief washed over you. Your feet carried you as quickly as you could manage and you were so close to reaching him, but a shot rang out and you saw that teal and black suit stained red with blood shortly after.

You couldn't hold back the blood-curdling scream you released as you raised your gun and shot at his attacker, all while Adrian still managed to throw a knife directly at the man at the same time your bullet luckily hit him dead in the eye.

The skin of your knees was now bruised and slightly bloody as you slid across the soil, rocks be damned, you wouldn't let something happen to him as you crawled to reach him. You could hear that he was still breathing but wasn't as strong as it could be, and when you rolled him over slightly to take a look at him, his suit was all but destroyed, there had been so much blood on your hands when you pulled them away. The sight of it had you almost to the point of hyperventilating because you were already thinking the worst, so you removed his visor and checked him as best as you could without moving him too much.

Leota had just finished saving Harcourt as she ripped out one of the butterflies from her mouth, and shot it before it could take over her body, then her attention was pulled toward you hovering over Adrian's body.

"Hey, is he alive?" She asked as she still remained at Emilia's side.

You looked up and stared at her through your teary eyes. "Yes, but barely. I don't know how long he'll be okay… Is she okay?"

Leota stood and looked down at Harcourt then back at you. "For now. We gotta get them out of here, though."

The blonde woman gripped Leota’s arm and shuttered. "Help… Chris," was all Harcourt could muster.

Leota looked terrified, scared of the fact that they could die at any point and yet they wanted her to leave them there.

"Go and help, I'll stay here and protect them if I need to."

The woman looked at you in confusion for a moment. "You're… Adrian's girlfriend, right?" You nodded. "He talks a lot about you, pretty ballsy you bein' here. But you're good people, so here, take this just in case."

She handed you one of her guns and you waved your hand in protest. "I got plenty, you need that, now go and do whatever you need to do."

"Leota!"

Ecomonos had suddenly appeared and rolled a silver Peacemaker helmet toward her, his body now weak as he collapsed onto the soil to rest. You watched them with curiosity as Leota suddenly left and made her way down an eerie-looking entranceway that led underground, leaving you with everyone in an uncomfortable silence.

You hadn't left Adrian's side as you stroked his hair while he slept, all you wanted was to make sure he continued to breathe, so you did what you could with his wounds and put pressure on them as you wrapped them up with whatever you could find. You only left his side long enough to tear off chunks of cloth from the bodies that were scattered around you, you helped out Economos as best as you could without fucking up his leg even further, to which he thanked you.

"Sorry we sorta ganged up on you back at the video store."

"It's fine," you replied coolly as you made your way back to Adrian's side. "Sorry I yelled at you."

He scoffed and shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose we deserved it. Why are you here though? Shouldn't you be staying as far away from this shit as you possibly can?"

You looked over your boyfriend's face and contemplated for a moment, not quite sure what went through your head while you did all of this. "Honestly, I did it for him. I didn't care what would have happened to me, I just wanted to help him. Even if it killed me."

John stared at you in what you would assume was awe and possibly even lunacy, but he gave you a small smile in return. "He's lucky to have someone like you. Why you came out here was fucking insane but really brave of you."

You chuckled. "Thanks, man."

You clung to Adrian and your mind was slightly more at ease, you wanted to believe that he would be okay and that everything would be as it was in a week or two, but you were scared shitless. With any luck, they would finish whatever mission this was and you could all escape the police before they came to collect Peacemaker and company. So long as his breathing continued to remain steady, you would feel okay, you wouldn’t be able to handle it if something went wrong.

A low rumble began steadily beneath your feet, both you and Economos stared at each other, unsure of what the sound was or what you should do, if anything. When the rumble became stronger and more violent, you got to your feet and scooped Adrian in your arms, pulling him from under his arms away from the danger, though you didn't get far. The man was already heavy with the muscle he gained, but with the suit on top of it, it was almost impossible, but you had your burst of adrenaline to thank. Economos crawled further away despite his leg protesting, the shooting pain he felt was unlike anything he'd felt before. When the rumbling slowed and came to a stop, you stood still and gently placed Adrian back down, which caused him to stir.

He grumbled and groaned as his eyes fluttered open, his brown pulled together while his eyesight tried to adjust with no glasses to peer through. But as he looked up, there you were with a smile on your face and worry in your eyes, your face splattered with droplets of blood.

"Wait, what happened? What are you doing here, babe?" His voice was hoarse and dry.

You knelt back down and placed several kisses on his forehead as you brushed his hair back. "Oh thank fuck, you're okay. Try not to move until we figure out what's going on, okay?"

"How are you here?"

You looked away sheepishly and hummed. "Well, I saw the news, so I went to your place and got some weapons, then overheard on the police scanner that you were spotted coming up this way. I came as fast as I could."

"Shoulda saw her in action, Vij, she was pretty crazy," Economos said matter-of-factly. "She's been by your side since she got here."

Adrian squinted and looked at you with concern, which wasn't a good look. "You coulda got hurt."

"And you could have died, but I don't care, Adrian. You saved me, I wanted to save you."

He was upset that you didn't listen, all he wanted was for you to be okay and safe, away from all of this nonsense. But overall, he did take Economos's words into consideration; he was pretty lucky to have someone like you.

A sound came from behind you and you all turned to see Peacemaker pulling himself from the wreckage that followed behind him, Leota right behind him. Economos sighed in relief and groaned.

"You guys are okay, holy shit."

"Get to Harcourt, she's not doing good," you said loudly as you pointed at her, and Chris followed your direction and immediately scooped her into his arms. "Come on, handsome, we gotta get you to the hospital." You stood up and pulled him to his feet gently, the groan that emerged was painful.

Adrian hobbled one step ahead and almost collapsed again, but you caught him in time. "Come on, I'll be fine, I just need a nap."

"Adrian, no, you're going into the hospital."

Peacemaker said nothing as he carried the blonde woman who lay unconscious, breathing, but alive. As if it were a cruel joke, several members of the Justice League came to greet them, but the entire group kept moving past them.

"You're late, you fucking dickheads," Chris complained with a sneer.

The members looked on in disbelief, but you didn't care, you just needed to get everyone to the hospital, especially before Harcourt didn't have a chance to make it.

Vigilante stood there, his hand placing pressure on the gunshot wounds beneath his ribcage, but the way he could barely stand was a cause for worry, yet he didn’t say a word and watched as Harcourt and Economos were carted off to be taken care of. Chris and Leota stood beside you two and it almost felt awkward as you all

Chris looked over at Vigilante as you continued to hold him up, but he swayed a bit too far and almost toppled over. “Dude, you’re shot. You gotta be admitted.”

Vigilante sighed and shook his head. “I’m fine, seriously. All I need is a good nap.” After a moment of silence, Vigilante fell to the floor with you trying your best to catch him before he did.

“Can someone help him, please?!” you called out desperately, and your call was answered almost immediately as a group of nurses and doctors swarmed around you both.

They picked him up and wheeled him into a room with you not far behind, but one of the nurses turned to you and placed a hand in front of you to stop you.

"I'm sorry, miss, you have to stay out here, okay? Please, we just need to get him into surgery as fast as we can, and as soon as it's finished, we'll call you in."

You wanted to protest, you wanted to be there for him and you wanted to keep that promise, but getting thrown out wouldn't do much good. So you sighed and nodded, then walked back to the waiting room where Peacemaker was sitting. His head was hung low as his elbows rested on his knees, and you had just caught a glimpse of Leota leaving through the front door.

As much as it pained you to be near him, you sat beside Chris and looked over silently, not wanting to force a conversation. You sighed as you leaned back in the chair and closed your eyes, all you wanted to do was take a breath and not have to worry about anything for at least twenty minutes. Your body relaxed and you felt yourself falling asleep, but Peacemaker looked over at you and cleared his throat.

"Hey uh, I know you didn't have to come to us at the ranch, but thanks for helping," he said gruffly. “Heard you took some guys down.”

Your eyes opened and you turned your head slightly to look at him. "Yeah well, I did it for Adrian, he did it for me." You turned your gaze back toward the help desk and stared at the constant movement until you heard your name called. Your head whipped up and stared at the doctor holding a clipboard as he made eye contact with you, then you made your way to him with a blatant expression of pure worry.

"Mr. Chase didn't need much done, he just had some sutures, the bullets were removed and everything seems to be going well. He's lost blood from the wounds, but his recovery is miraculous. Did you want to see him?"

"Yes, please." You followed quickly on his heels as he guided you to his room, and of course, he was already awake and moving around in his bed.

"Mr. Chase, could you please not remove the IV yet?"

His gaze rested on you and the smile that followed was one you wished to see for the rest of your days. "You're still here!" He said excitedly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You turned around and looked over at the doctor. "Can he go home today?"

"Yes, so long as he waits patiently for us to discharge him," he said with emphasis on the last of the sentence. "But I'll come back in a bit once we initiate the paperwork." The doctor left and closed the door behind him, which left you both alone.

You turned back to him and he was already discarding the IV and the heart monitor, and all you could do was laugh. "Adi, calm down, he said to wait."

"And I did. I waited until he left the room," he said with a smirk.

You sucked your teeth and shook your head as you sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, and once you did that, he finally settled down a bit. He looked up at you, his face a tad bit bruised and puffy as he stared at you. When you looked over at him, he couldn't help but smile at you.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing, just wish I coulda seen you in action, did those lessons I gave you pay off?" He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked.

You almost wanted to blush. "Shut up, Adrian. But yeah, gotta say, I was scared as hell, but that adrenaline? Woo boy, really paid off. But I was so fucking scared, Adrian…” You sighed as you reached out for his hand, which he allowed you to take, and you squeezed it gently. “I was so scared you weren’t gonna make it.”

The look of guilt seemed to sink into his features, but you placed your hand on his cheek to have him look at you. “Look, babe, I–”

“Ssh, I don’t care right now, I just wanna enjoy this win, okay? You’re alive and that’s all that matters.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips, slowly being consumed by him until you felt him pushing back, his mouth opened to allow his tongue to caress your bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile. “Adrian, in the hospital room?” You asked, your voice light and playful.

“Sure, why not?”

“Because you just had bullets removed from your body,” you replied with an overwhelmed tone, but you barely fought back against his advances, his hand slid down the front of your shirt, and a small whimper escaped your lips. His devious smile made you want to rethink it, but you had a better idea. “How about,” you began as you pulled his hand down and placed it on your leg, “we get out of here and if you can make it from here to the house, I’ll change my mind.”

His smile only grew. “Deal.”

The television inside the room was on and as soon as Adrian looked up, he patted your arm and pointed. Your eyes followed and you saw Leota at a press conference.

‘A.R.G.U.S. Agent Speaks Out’, the prompt read. “–Which means Christopher Smith never wrote any diary. Both the Peacemaker and the costucrime-fighterhter Vigilante were working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S. government called “Project Butterfly”. This is all part of a black-ops program known as “Task Force X,” where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions for the United States in exchange for time shaved off their sentences.”

You looked back over at Adrian, completely stunned. “Holy shit… that’s… that’s insane.”

Adrian only shrugged and nodded in agreement. “Well, what are you gonna do, a woman in power like that? Does whatever she wants. Glad Leota was on our side.”

“Yeah,” you breathed… “Hey, let’s go home, yeah?”

Adrian smiled and sighed in relief as he was already slipping out of the bed and across the room to grab his things. “I’d like nothing more. But we gotta go my way.”

“Adrian, you’re not–”

“Oh yes, I am.” He gathered all his things and slung them over his shoulder. “You comin’? I’ll catch you, promise.”

You looked over at the large open window and sighed, you shook your head in disbelief. “I guess so, let’s do this.” You walked over toward the window and looked down, the height wasn’t that bad, so you looked up at him and gave him a playful smirk. “You’re lucky I love you, Adrian Chase.” You placed a quick kiss on his lips and didn’t even give him time to process as you jumped from the window and screamed.

Adrian stood there for a moment in the room and looked back outside as you recovered quickly from the jump, and you stared up at him. “You what?!”

Tag List:

@juniebugg @chipster-21 @fanofverymanythings @myguiltypleasures21 @wandasleftshoe @ventihotdogwater @stinkytootsies @cressida-clearwood @bbwithaknife @wtfobiwan @chaseadrian @glytchfic @oceannerdd @tubble-wubble @charmed-asylum @sunflowerfive @enter-username-blank @weirdpurppleunicorn @likeficsinthewnd

#tinalbion writings #adrian chase #adrian chase x you #adrian chase reader #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase fanfic #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #vigilante fanfic #vigilante peacemaker #peacemaker show #vigilante x female reader #adrian chase x female reader

46 notes · View notes

badgirlcovenrep · 3 years

Note

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

#chenrich fanfic #send me chenrich prompts #i dare you #chenrich #alex chen #alex chen × steph gingrich #steph gingrich

168 notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years

Text

Meet Your Match || Mob!Tom Smut

Summary ↠ It’s always awkward when your current boyfriend meets your ex, but it’s a whole new level when it transpires that your ex-boyfriend is the leader of Tom’s rival mob...

Warnings ↠ 18+, contains mature nsfw material. There are extended warnings beneath the cut, but this is quite heavy.

Word count ↠ 5.9k

A/N ↠ Genuinely am shocked that this came out of my head tbh. It is very intense so please consult the warnings before you dive in ! The entire concept of the first half is very random and almost crack, but then the second half...phew. Sheesh. Thanks to V, mischiefandi, for suggesting I write in a hot Irish mobster as Y/N’s ex...love that for her, and I love you V. I hope you all enjoy this :)

This is a part of my mob!Tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. You don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! You can find the other parts in my masterlist.

18+ do not touch this if you are a minor.

extended warnings: lol. mob themes including gun mention and punching, a broken nose ft minor mentions of blood, a bit of a dodgy ex who makes some uncomfortable comments, alcohol, possessive!jealous!Tom, d/s dynamics, soft!dom!Tom, mean!dom!Tom, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), spitting, orgasm denial and edging, guided masturbation, rough sex, doggy-style, like two minor instances of spanking, he calls her slut once. im not here to fuck around this goes hard so if you aren’t into rough stuff this isn’t for you. also includes unprotected sex -- please practise safe sex (condoms provide barriers against STIs as well as unwanted pregnancy. pls be safe irl). i would like mob!tom to rail me thank u. enjoy.

--------- Meet Your Match ---------

You’d never given much thought to the possibility of Tom meeting one of your exes. Why would you, when being with him is infinitely more satisfying, loving, and enjoyable than it had ever been with one of them?

But if you’d had to imagine it, you would’ve pictured it casually. Maybe you’d be out somewhere together - at a café, or a market, with Tom’s arm wrapped safely around you. You’d see your ex - whoever it may be - and there’d be an awkward encounter. The exchange of painful hellos and goodbyes, maybe some piercing stares, and pinched words. Then, you’d move on, and that would be that.

Never, in your wildest dreams, would you have imagined you’d run into your ex-boyfriend whilst in attendance at a meeting of the London mobs.

It’s a special event - a large, networking occasion, organised by Tom, as an opportunity for him to meet with his partners and rivals, as they come together to cordially bond over beer and discuss business plans. It’s hosted right in the centre of Piccadilly, in the elegant conference room of a luxurious hotel. You’re just starting to relax and settle in when you glance across the room and see him:

Aidan. Your ex-boyfriend. At… A meeting of the mobs of London?

“What the fuck,” you mutter. You almost drop your glass of champagne as you narrow your eyes and stare. The conference room is vast, adorned with glittering chandeliers and large banquet tables, but it’s undeniable: Aidan is here.

“Everything alright, love?” Tom’s by your side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. He’s in remarkably high spirits this evening. The event is fully underway, and judging by the snippets of conversation you’ve been hearing, Tom’s latest plans are coming into fruition - something about warehouses, and a shipment of class A drugs. But none of it matters now, because your mind is entirely elsewhere.

“No,” you state immediately.

Tom cranes his neck, his eyes seeking you out. You manage to drag your gaze away from Aidan for a brief second.

“What is it?” He’s looking at you with those deep, warm brown eyes, and his gaze is so tender it makes your breath hitch. One of Tom’s fingers moves up to caress your cheek, and you find yourself shifting guiltily on your feet.

“Who, exactly, did you invite to this meeting?” You ask your boyfriend, speaking in hushed tones. Your eyes slip back to Aidan, and you feel yourself relax as you note he’s still deep in conversation with a few men.

“Suppliers, rivals, allies… Anyone of importance, really.” Tom narrows his eyes, his thumb brushing over your chin as he looks at you closely. “Why?”

“Did you know that you’ve also invited my ex-boyfriend?”

Judging by the look of utter shock on Tom’s face, he had not, in fact, realised his fundamental truth.

“Who?” He asks immediately. His face shifts through several shades before settling on jealous, with his eyebrows bunched together.

You turn around, resting one hand on the broad shoulder of Tom’s suit before using your other to point out across the crowd.

“Aidan.”

Tom squints his eyes, a small rumbling noise travelling up his throat. “Aidan?” He repeats, his voice flooded with confusion. You hum affirmatively. “Bloke with the blond hair? Irish?” Again, a hum. Tom releases a short, curt chuckle. “Angel, he’s not called Aidan.”

“What?” You exclaim.

Tom releases a deep sigh. “That’s Gordy. He runs the Eastside.”

You feel your jaw loosen. A fake name. “Gordy Byrne?”

“The one and only.”

“Shit.”

You’ve been with Tom for a year. Over those long, fulfilling twelve months, you’ve picked up on several important key pieces of information about the London mob: it’s split into three factions, each sector run by a different figurehead. Tom and his family control the South-West, and they’re in constant disagreement with Gordy, of the East, and Monique, of the North. Each third is continuously testing the waters, trying to take over land, and supplies, and emerge as the solo Kingpin of London. The fragile alliance between the three families is constantly on the verge of disintegration.

And Gordy is your ex, who you’d met three years ago at the same exclusive club you’d worked in when you’d met Tom. Your relationship had lasted eight months and ended on equal terms as you’d mutually agreed the spark had fizzled away. Despite the considerable span of your relationship, you’d had no suspicions that he’d been involved with the mob. The thought is incredibly jarring.

“Seems like you have a type,” Tom comments, his voice entirely too flippant.

Before you can call him out on his apparent feelings of resentment, your evening takes a further turn as you realise Gordy has spotted you and is now working his way through the sea of people towards you.

He looks just as you remember: 6’2, blond, green-eyed. His shoulders are stocky and broad, and his suit bulges with disguised muscles. He maintains that signature swagger you’d come to associate with him, his eyes glinting as he throws out a wild smile. Your eyes catch on the presence of a few new golden teeth fixed in his mouth, and then to the tattooed knuckles that hang by his side.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Gordy greets, green eyes skimming across you appreciatively, “Who’d ‘a thought we’d meet again?”

All you can really do is let out a squeak of agreement, and pull away from Tom��s side to greet the man with a kiss on the cheek. The familiar scent of Gordy’s musky cologne drifts up your nose, and it makes your head spin.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you pull away, looking at him incredulously. His pale cheeks wear a scruff of fuzz, highlighting the high arches of his cheekbones.

“What are you doing here?” He returns, his Irish accent twanging. His eyes shift over to Tom, then back to you, and then they watch as Tom reaches out and carefully tangles his fingers with yours. “Wait…”

“Evening, mate,” Tom greets, voice a little clipped. You feel the grip on your hand tighten, and you let him reel you back into his side. You find home beneath Tom’s heavy arm as he repositions it across your shoulder, keeping you near. “I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.”

The air seems to flicker with tension.

“Interesting,” Gordy comments. He shifts his attention back to you, drawing the lines of your face with his curious eyes. “Didn’t take you for the type, Y/N. Would’ve stuck around if I’d thought you could handle this life.”

His words dig into you, and you find yourself clenching your teeth.

“You told me you worked in banking.”

“Oh, I do.” He runs his fingers down the front of his designer suit, winking. “The mob is quite a lucrative business.” He pauses, and something a little like guilt flashes over his face. “You know my real name, yeah? Gordy, not Aidan. Sorry about that. I hate the lies, but they’re for protection, y’know.”

You feel almost dizzy as you bring your glass of champagne to your lips and throw it back. The bubbles do little to soothe down your discomfort.

“Wow,” you manage. Your eyes shift up to Tom, who’s looking at Gordy with apprehension in his gaze. You understand why: for the past two months, Tom’s been engaged in a brutal turf-war with Gordy’s family over in the South-East. Men have died, shipments stolen. You know one of Tom’s primary motivations for the meeting tonight was to see if he could reach some kind of agreement with them, but the circumstances were tense enough as it was, before this.

“Isn’t this fun,” Gordy comments. He’s eyeing up Tom now, a cocky smirk hanging from his plush lower lips. “Well, Thomas, it’d seem you and I have a lot more in common than we’d thought, eh? Maybe we’ll be able to come to an agreement.”

Your stomach turns, and you feel Tom tighten his grip on your arm. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his tone is so severe that it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that,” he warns darkly. “We will not be making any deals tonight, Gordy.”

You raise your eyebrows, trying to meet his eyes but finding that Tom ignores your attempts and instead keeps staring straight ahead at your ex-boyfriend, a determined frown hanging from his thin lips.

“Why’s that, Thomas?” He quips.

“I don’t like your attitude, I don’t like your policies, and I don’t like the way you’re looking at my girlfriend.”

Gordy arches an eyebrow. His hand slips down slowly to rest on his hip, but not before his suit jacket has ridden up just enough to expose the sleek outline of his gun, hanging low in the holster on his belt.

“Is this how it’s going to be, Tom?” He asks, shifting his eyes back to you. “Eh? I bed your bird and suddenly business is off the table?”

You can feel the mood sour, and as much as you’d like to reach out and give Gordy a piece of your mind, you are painfully aware of the circumstances: you are standing in the lion’s den. Despite the meeting of Tom’s creation, you know that there’s no chance in hell that Gordy has walked into the evening alone. To initiate any sort of heated discussion whilst surrounded by London’s most notorious gangsters would be a disastrous move.

“Tom,” you murmur, recognising all too well the signs of anger that curl out across Tom’s face: his clenched jaw, the deep frown marks on his forehead, the tight line of his lips. “Let’s go.”

For a moment you think he’s going to follow you. Tom lets you shrug off his arm and take his hand, and his posture loosens as if he’s about to turn and walk across the room with you. But then, of course, Gordy just has to get in the last word.

“Oh, well, if you’re going, you won’t mind giving me a goodbye kiss, eh, Y/N?” He peers at you with mischievous eyes, his voice lilting lightly. “Just like old times?”

Tom’s moving before you can even attempt to stop him, and you hear a loud crack as his fist sweeps up and collides with Gordy’s nose. The man doubles over, groaning profusely, and your eyes widen as you take in the stream of blood that immediately begins to pour from his face.

“Tom!” You exclaim, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. Your boyfriend grabs at your fingers, squeezing your digits in his.

“He’s not allowed to disrespect you like that,” he mutters darkly.

“I don’t need you to defend me, I can do it myself,” you hiss back. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you feel the hot lump of anger melt away as Tom looks at you through those brown, golden eyes, his mouth positioned into a guilty smile.

Two men emerge from the crowd and flank Gordy’s side. You feel a deep swell of fear pool in the pit of your stomach, and instinctively your fingers move down towards your bag for the switch-blade you’d buried alongside your lipstick. But you find your actions stilling as Gordy clears his throat, rights himself and holds up a bloody hand.

“It’s fine,” Gordy tells his guards. He tilts his head in your direction. “I deserved it. No disrespect to the lady.” His beady green eyes move to Tom. “We can finish this discussion some other time, Thomas. Good evening to you both.”

Before waiting to see if Gordy turns around and walks away, you tighten your grip on Tom’s hand and lead him out of the large conference room. It’s completely silent, and the groups of people seem to part like the sea as you escort your boyfriend from the scene, his lips brushing over the back of his bruised hand as he winces. You don’t say anything, not until you’re safely stowed away in the backseat of a large car, the doors locked, windows tinted, and driver separated by partition.

“Love, look, I’m sorry, but I-”

You cut Tom off by climbing from your seat and meeting his mouth with a deep, needy kiss. Your boyfriend releases a noise of surprise, and his hands shift up to grab at your waist as he pulls you onto his lap eagerly, pressing back against your lips with fervour. It’s messy, and you enjoy running your hands through strands of his unruly hair as he keeps you close, his fingers grasping at every area of your front and sides, mapping you out.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Tom murmurs, his curious eyes meeting yours. “Thought I was in trouble.” His hands cup your cheeks, and you give him a coy smile.

“You shouldn’t have punched him,” you tell him, biting your lip as his thumb brushes over the soft skin of your face. “I’m glad that you did, though. He was a dick.”

Tom hums. “And also the enemy, love.”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you sit back on Tom’s wide thighs as you sigh. “I can’t believe he runs one of the other mobs,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’ve dated two mobsters, and I didn’t even know.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes, but he still manages a short chuckle. “I hate the thought of you being with him,” he admits. His eyes stir with something darker, and his fingers dig into your waist. “I hate the thought of you being with anyone other than me.”

You bite your lower lip as you twirl the short strands at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “It was a long time ago,” you tell him. “Our relationship wasn’t anything of consequence.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, but he’s still got that hungry glint in his eyes. You feel a shiver roll down your spine as his gaze sweeps across your face, his hands shifting up to rest on the curves of your breasts. Your dress is thin, and the neckline meant you had to go without a bra. A soft gasp falls past your lips as Tom’s thumbs brush over the lines of your nipples, which prick in response to his touch.

“Is our relationship of consequence?” Tom asks, his voice dancing. He’s staring at your chest now, his smirk widening as you instinctively push further into his hands, enjoying the feeling of his large, warm palms groping at your breasts.

“Of course.” You swallow and bring your fingers away from his neck. With careful movements, you reach up and pull the straps of your dress from your shoulders, meeting Tom’s gaze as you roll down the front of the garment, exposing your bare chest to him. “I love you.”

Tom seeks out your neck with his lips, and you release a small gasp as he sucks firmly on the base of your throat, his fingers moving over your bare chest. You can feel his mouth pulling the blood to the surface of your skin, but the pain makes you cry out in pleasure as your fingers wrap around his suit jacket and fist at the expensive material hugging his back. He takes his time as he works his way up your neck, sucking and biting, and then soothing the throbbing marks with gentle laps of his tongue and soft, open-mouthed kisses. By the time he reaches your ear, you’re squirming in his lap.

“You are mine.”

His tongue teases the lobe of your ear as his hands move all across your bare back, caressing your skin gently with his palms. The cold metal of his silver rings bites to touch, but you shiver in enjoyment.

“Yours,” you agree. Tom shifts from your neck to look at you straight on, his eyes full of dark, heady lust.

“Mine,” he repeats. His mouth is on yours, and you let him prise apart your lips with his tongue. His hands fist at your hair and he pulls you closer roughly, and your teeth collide as he kisses you sloppily, groaning into your mouth. It’s messy - with noses bashing and his digits tugging at your strands and your lips moving everywhere, slick with spit - but you feel him gather you up in his arms as he holds you. He owns you.

You make-out until the car arrives home, at which point your lips are tender and puffy and your entire body throbs with persistent arousal. Tom’s eager with his affection, but you can feel the underlying pulse of fear coasting through his veins; you want so desperately to placate it: to let him know that he has nothing to worry about - that you are his now, and probably always will be. Tom’s not alone in his discomfort - you, too, feel jilted and unbalanced after running into a ghost from your past. You need Tom desperately, in more ways that one. You need him to look after you - to hold you, be firm with you, and show you your place within your relationship. You need him to be your dom, and you crave the release of submitting to him entirely - with your mind, body and heart.

“You can do anything you want to me tonight,” you tell him. You’re standing at the foot of the bed, Tom sitting up against the headboard. His suit jacket lays off to the side, tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone. You’ve made a mess of his hair, but he looks so fucking pretty with his chestnut curls all tousled and his lips bright pink and inflamed.

“That’s funny,” Tom comments, eyes glinting as he tilts his head to the side, “I thought I could already do that.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself biting your lower lip as your face fills up with heat.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” Your fingers toy with the straps, which are all rolled up and uneven thanks to the hastiness in which you’d scrambled from the car.

“No.” Tom sits up, and he pats his thigh invitingly. “Take off your panties and come up here.”

You tease him a little bit, enjoying the way his gaze weighs down your figure. You’re slow to push your dress up to your waist, and you make a show of hooking your index fingers beneath the band to reveal lacy panties. You tug at the material until it falls to pool at your feet, and then you delicately step away from them and approach your boyfriend. You have a sudden thought that it’s as if you are the prey, walking straight into danger, but you welcome it: Tom’s looking at you, his expression hard but excited and his eyes swimming with darkness, and it makes your throat dry up.

“Such a gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”

The material of Tom’s slacks feels coarse against your centre as you straddle his left thigh. His hands press at your waist, pushing your cunt straight against his leg, and the contact makes you moan softly.

“You look so pretty with your neck all marked up.” Tom presses a light kiss to one of your hickeys, and you gasp as a line of pain ripples out across your skin. “You look like you’re mine.”

“I am.”

“I know.” Tom strokes his hand through your hair, eyes watching you carefully. “I’m just going to remind you.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” You ask, your voice wavering.

He hums, the noise suspended with confidence. “You’ll see.” His hands dig into your waist a little firmer, and he starts to guide your movements. “Work yourself against my thigh, darling. Make a nice wet spot for me.”

His words make you moan, and you’re quick to comply. You recognise the dark glint in his eyes and the layers to his voice - he’s slipping away into his harder, more dominative side, just as you find yourself eager to oblige him. You grind yourself down over his thigh, and his trousers are rough against your flushed centre. The friction burns beautifully. A few moans slip past your lips, and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press over you, digging into your waist, guiding you. Tom is very much in control, and as the seconds slip past, you give into it.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, rich voice drifting into your ears. You bite your lip, your hole clenching around nothing as you swivel your hips and feel the pressure to your hot bud.

“Feels really good,” you admit, voice a whimper. “Love it when you let me touch you.”

Tom takes your chin between two fingers, looking at you with a hard stare. He pulls your face to him, his tongue licking a wide stripe over your lips. As you try to push forward for a kiss, he just moves away, a teasing smirk on his lips. “No,” he says softly, “You’ll take what I give you, and you won’t be greedy about it. I don’t want to have to punish you, babygirl.”

You nod quickly, the movement hurried and messy. It’s getting hard to think of anything other than the fact you’ve made his trousers slick with your arousal. The burn between your legs is gradually swelling to a crescendo.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your fingers find purchase on his shoulder, and you find your forehead dropping down to rest there too as your breathing hitches.

“Are you close, darling?” He’s very soft and gentle, and it makes you whimper out a small noise of agreement. Tom chuckles, pulling at your hair as he brings your face back up, his hands bearing down on your hips to halt your movements. “Lie down for me, please.”

You scramble from his lap, your centre pulsing as it leaves his thigh. Your eyes catch on the way you’ve left a large, wet mark on his trousers, and you watch with wide eyes as Tom stands from the bed. He walks around to the foot of the mattress, his figure commanding your complete attention.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do to you,” he says, speaking quietly. His nimble fingers work down the buttons of his shirt, popping them quickly. Once his shirt is discarded, Tom works on his slacks. As the metallic sounds of his belt clicking fill the air, he smirks at you. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. You squeal as Tom grabs at your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, hauling you closer until your thighs are over his shoulders and his face is near your heat. Your dress scrunches up at your waist, and you whimper as his hands press your legs apart. “I’ll always be good for you.”

“Is that right?” Tom asks, index finger running lightly over the inside of one of your thighs. He looks up at you, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust.

“Yes.”

“Prove it to me,” he instructs. “If you think you’re about to cum, you need to tell me.” Tom’s gaze darkens. “If you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what happens.” With tender lips, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, looking at you with a gentle smile. When he speaks again, his voice is lighter, “Is this okay, darling?”

You nod.

“Words.”

As two of Tom’s fingers spread your puffy outer lips, you stammer out a broken, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He dives in quickly, and the press of his warm tongue against your pulsing pussy makes you cry out. You’re already feeling hot and bothered from the time you spent rutting against the coarse material of his trousers, and the pressure soothes you. He’s too far away to touch, so you curl your hands into fists and pull at the silky bed linen, eyelids fluttering shut as his tongue caresses you, over and over.

Tom makes out sloppily with your cunt, two of his slender fingers pulling up to push into your heat. He fills you easily, taking the edge off your desire as his tongue flicks over your clit, unrelenting, hard. He’s eager for it, holding nothing back as he coaxes you quickly towards a high, moaning and grunting into your centre. The vibrations drive you mad, and your mind spins off as he holds you in place.

“S-Shit,” you stammer, back arching. As much as you don’t want to say it, Tom’s already pushing you towards climax. As he curls his slender digits up against you, his tips brush against your g-spot, and it has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, Tom.”

All movements stop. Tom’s mouth pulls back from your cunt, and his fingers still inside you. Your walls clench around him, but he relaxes them, halting all stimulation of your sensitive pussy as you whimper.

“Good,” he coos. Your eyes seek him out, and you moan as you see his chin slick with your juices. “You taste divine, sweetheart.” His free hand strokes over your inner thigh, calming you with gentle circles and caresses. “We’ll do this a few more times, I think. I want you dripping onto the sheets. I want you to forget about everything apart from me, and how desperate you are for me.” His teeth nip at your thigh, and you squirm.

True to his word, Tom works you up, over and over again. Each time he brings you to the edge of a high, he pulls back at the last moment, leaving you teetering on the edge for a painful second before your climax goes ebbing away from your reach. The time it takes to build up to each edge narrows considerably with each completion, and you find yourself growing desperate for more. Your skin is hot and prickles, your forehead breaking into a sweat. The muscles in your legs ache from the exertion of almost spasming into climax, time and time again, and your throat hurts from your eager, desperate moans. He’s a demon, his deep brown eyes watching you closely, sharp ears picking up each noise and sound, and he seems intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

“I think that’s enough,” Tom finally says. Your sigh of relief is so loud and pronounced that it makes him chuckle. “What, you didn’t like that?” His hand comes down over your inner thigh, slapping softly. As the pain ripples across your skin, you whimper. “Don’t lie to me, angel. I know you love it when I’ve got my head between your legs.” His large hands slip under your thighs, and he pushes you up the bed, slipping up over you. With his body suspended above you and a hand either side of your head, Tom raises his eyebrows. “Open,” he instructs.

What he does next makes your eyes roll back. You open your mouth immediately, and he chuckles darkly. One hand holds your jaw, and you watch as Tom purses his lips, eyes you intently, and then spits directly into your mouth. The taste of your cunt spreads out across your tongue, and your hole clenches around nothing as you moan loudly.

“Swallow,” he says. You close your mouth and do just that, and then you stick out your tongue for him to see. “Good,” he coos. Tom kisses you suddenly, the action hard as he sucks on your tongue. When he pulls back, he kisses your nose. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? My pretty girl.”

His lips skate all across your face, dusting you in warm kisses of reward.

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The gratitude you feel towards him for knowing exactly what you need is boundless, consuming.

“And I love you.” You share a tender moment of understanding as Tom brushes his hand over your face, and in the look you exchange, you know that he feels as you do: appreciation towards your partner, for reading you and obliging you. He hums softly, slipping away from you after a final kiss to pull off his boxers. “Take off your dress for me, love. Give me a show.”

You’re shaky on your feet, but you manage to stand in front of the bed. Tom sits up against the headboard, working his hand over his erect length as he watches you. You tease him, just like you know he enjoys, taking your time as you roll the sleeves down and unzip the back. The material goes tumbling to the floor, pooling at your feet, and then you’re entirely naked - wearing only his hickeys, and his spit between your legs.

“Beautiful,” he says, eyes glinting. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?” When you shrug bashfully, he nods. “My angel. C’mere.” You move to him, but he stops you before you can reach for his cock. “I want you to lie down here and show me how you get off.”

“But I want--”

He shuts you up with a hard stare. “Do you really want to finish that sentence?” When you’re quiet, he hums. You can’t stop staring at the way his hands slide over his length. Your mouth waters at the thought of letting your tongue wander over his leaking tip, collecting the beads of salty precum. “Do this for me, and then I’ll let you have what you want.”

You part your legs, your thighs aching. As you dip your hand between your legs, you whimper to feel your slick mixed with Tom’s spit. Your skin is soaked, and as you nimbly press two fingers into your hole, you find it looser, already stretched from Tom’s exploration earlier. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your hand move as you slowly fuck yourself with your fingers, getting pleasure from the knuckle of your thumb as it brushes up against your clit.

As you begin to whimper, Tom swoops in with his final lesson of the evening. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around yours, guiding your movements. He sets the pace and the angle, speeding up your thrusts. The sound of your wetness sloshing around makes you cry out loudly as he edges you perfectly, like he knows your body better than you.

“You see this,” he mutters, voice husky. “I give you pleasure. It doesn’t matter if it’s my tongue in your cunt, or my fingers, or my cock. This cunt?” He curls your fingers, and they brush up against your g-spot, making you cry out. “This cunt is mine. You are mine.”

You almost lose it right there, the deep husky tones of his dominant voice sending you spinning, but then Tom pulls away. As your walls flutter weakly around nothing, he pats at your hip.

“Hands and knees, darling.”

Your arms shake as you roll over, adopting the position. Again, Tom stands at the foot of the bed, pulling you back until you’re spread open for him. You feel his cock, dragging through your slick folds, teasing your tender clit until your hips jerk forwards. Your bud aches almost painfully, your body pulled tight with an overwhelming need to climax.

“Please,” you beg desperately, dropping your head between your arms. “Please, please.”

Tom’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass, silver ring biting coolly against you, “Does my darling want to feel my cock?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hmm.” Easily, he slips the tip of his cock past your entrance. “I suppose you deserve it,” he teases. “Been such a good little slut for me, haven’t you?”

When Tom finally fucks into you, the moan you release is almost pornographic. He’s been teasing you, over and over, drawing you close to orgasm only to jerk it away from you each time, but now that he’s got his length buried up to the hilt inside you, you know it’s been worth it. Nothing compares to the relief you feel as you realise you’ll be allowed to finish soon, your walls squeezing his cock.

The pace is punishing, and everything blurs together. His hands on your hips, holding you in place, pulling you back rhythmically to meet with his thrusts. As his slick cock pounds into you over and over, his flushed tip nudges against your g-spot. The stimulation makes your eyes tear up, and a few hot tears skate across your cheeks as you whimper and cling to the sheets.

“Fuck, princess, you’re fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?” A hand falls over your bum, and you moan. “So tight and warm. Feels so snug around me, lovie. So perfect.” Tom’s voice comes out firm, but it wavers, and you can imagine the grimace of pleasure on his face. “Always take me so well.” His hand moves to the top of your back, and he pushes you into the bed. Your face buries into the sheets as the angle adjusts, and you gasp loudly as the adjustment means he can rail you harder.

“S-Shit,” you moan. “Love your cock, Tommy. Pl-Please.”

“What do you need?”

You whimper, the power of his thrusts fucking you further into the mattress. “W’nna cum.”

“You can play with your clit then.”

Tears fly down your cheeks, and it feels overwhelming as you nudge a hand between your legs to fondle your bud. Tom’s hands hold your hips, keeping you nice and open for him, and you’re glad for the heavy pressure on your skin. It keeps you anchored down.

“Are you close?” He asks, grunting heavily as he feels your walls squeeze him.

“Yes.”

“I think you deserve to cum, don’t you?” He pauses briefly, cursing lowly, pace faltering. “Let go, darling. Let me feel you squeezing me. I want to feel what I do to you.”

The action of his deep, fast thrusts mixes with your fingers on your clit, and you cum with a loud, quivering scream. Tom holds you down, fucking into you as you spasm and writhe in the sheets, and after a few, mind-numbing moments of pleasure, you feel him follow you with a grunt. His hot speed paints your walls, his noises of heady enjoyment mixing with yours, and it just prolongs your climax.

When you calm down, Tom carefully pulls out from you. You whimper at the loss, feeling a little out of it as he turns you over, pushes you up into the centre of the bed and pulls you on top of him. Your head settles in the crook of his neck, his hands palming over your back as he kisses the top of your head, over and over again.

“So good for me,” he mumbles. Your legs tangle together. You can feel his cum spilling from your hole, dripping down onto him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “My best girl. I love you so much.”

You hum quietly, rubbing your hand over the top of his arm as you whimper. “Love you too,” you manage, voice hoarse.

Tom’s hands cup your face, and he gently coaxes you up until he can meet with your eyes. His fingers brush away the teary residue from your cheeks, and he kisses you softly.

“Mine,” he mumbles against you, smiling into your lips as you hum in agreement. One of your hands folds into his curls, and you feel your heart stirring contentedly in your chest.

“Yours.”

---------

lol. hope you enjoyyyyed :)

I’m intending to do some mob!Tom blurbs next week for mob!Monday, so if you have any concepts you’d like to see, please send them to my ask box!

ask box is open for your thoughts!! I’m dying to know what you think of this... 👀

masterlist linked in bio!

#tom holland punch my lights out challenge ❤️#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tomfic #mm #smut #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #yeeeeeep #queue

2K notes · View notes

weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years

Text

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

#adam sackler x reader #adam sackler #tw:mental health #adam sackler x you #adcu #adcu fic #adcu summer fic exchange #adcu fic exchange

84 notes · View notes

romanapologist · 3 years

Text

give up on a miracle - sanders sides au - chp. 1

pairing(s): as of now, romantic nicomas and platonic everyone else

warnings: lots of religious stuff

summary: patton, virgil, logan, and janus are angels in charge of answering prayers. when they find out the earth is scheduled to be destroyed in a week, their only hope for saving it is to set up two humans: thomas sanders and nico flores.

word count: 3.5k

notes: this is a based off of miracle workers but not an exact au, idk it’ll be fun, you don’t have to have seen the show, you just have to like silly angel shenanigans

Please, God, let this somehow work out.

Thomas didn’t ask for miracles too often. Well—that was a lie, he probably prayed for some inconsequential thing everyday, but he rarely meant it the way he meant this one. The man at the mall felt like fate. He was beautiful, and according to his backpack he was gay, and he was just a few tables down, and... Thomas should have just said hi as soon as he had noticed him, but he had psyched himself out. Like always.

Usually that would be the end of the story, but as Thomas was headed for the exit, the man was there too. In front of him. Speaking to him.

Thomas was too caught off guard to process the first half of what he said—though he did register being given back his abhorrent carrot snack—and when he tuned back in, all he caught was:

“Uh, it’s okay! It’s probably a bit too nosy for me to ask anyway.”

“Uh, yeah! Super nosy! What’s wrong with you, man?” was the sentence that came out of Thomas’s mouth in response. He blamed his lips for coming up with it, because he knew his mind couldn’t have been involved.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the man smiled apologetically at him, and even that small, sheepish smile was so radiant… yeah, Thomas was mentally beating the shit out of himself. “Well, have a good night!”

So, now the fate-given man was headed somewhere else, and Thomas was about to lose him—probably forever—if he didn’t act. So, obvious answer: he had to act. But he just… couldn’t. Not without a sign at least.

Not without a push.

When no push came, Thomas told himself it wouldn’t have led anywhere anyway. He continued about his day, with only the slightest added weight in his chest.

•••

“Aw, Virge, we have to do something about this one!”

Virgil looked up from his own paperwork to see the prayer Patton had pulled up.

“‘Please, God, let this somehow work out,’” he read out dryly. “Hm, not very specific.”

“Oh, but you didn’t—c’mon, look—“ Patton waved his hand to replay the video of the scene. The figures popped up on the screen, and Patton was reminded all over again of the dopey, flustered expression of the human, Thomas, as he failed so miserably at talking to his mall crush. It was such a silly, hopeful wish—Patton’s favorite kind—and he couldn’t bear to see it go unanswered.

His fellow angel did not share this opinion, evidentially. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way,” Virgil said, “Love prayers are stupid as shit, hardest of all, never work out. If this whole department’s getting shut down, I’d rather spend my last week answering achievable prayers.”

Patton frowned. His brown-dappled wings drooped as his excitement wavered. “Is that right, though?” he asked, “Should we really stick to… what? Finding lost wallets? Delivering extra sandwiches? Like we’ve done every year of this job? If this is all ending, I wanna finally do something that matters, Virge.”

Virgil looked betrayed. “Lost wallets do matter, Patton. Maybe they don’t end droughts, or heal hearts, but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter. If people wish for it, it matters to them. I always thought you agreed with me on that.”

Patton bit his lip. He did agree with Virgil, on some level, and on any other day he would have considered his words more carefully. But with the prayer department set to close down this very week, he had lost some of his filter. Maybe his ideas were far-fetched, but when he had joined the Department of Answered Prayers he had been hoping to do exactly that--end droughts, heal hearts.

“Virgil’s right,” chimed in Logan. Their manager made his way over, and took Patton’s tablet from his hands. He swiped upwards on the prayer, officially dismissing it as ‘impossible.’ “There is no need to feel bad, Patton. It’s not our fault humans mainly ask for impossible things. If they want impossible, they need God, and God doesn’t have that kind of time. If they want an extra sandwich… we can pull a few strings.”

Logan nodded approvingly to where Virgil was coding breezes on his tablet, screen open to a view of a rural town avenue. He was carefully, cautiously, innocuously blowing leaves into piles one-by-one. This process eventually cleared the front yard of a small house, just in time for a kind-eyed, middle-aged man to come home and cheer at the sight of the finished chore. He even did a stupid little dance to himself, and Patton saw the smallest smile tug at Virgil’s lips.

“I agree with Patton,” came a voice from over by the mini fridge. Janus was doing what he did best: sipping at the canned wine he wasn’t meant to have, not doing any work, and giving his opinion on everything anyway. “Let’s do something interesting. It’s not like it matters at this point.”

“What do you mean?” Patton squinted at him.

“Cuz the prayer department’s getting shut down, duh, what else have we been talking about?” Virgil answered.

“No,” Janus said, “Well—yes, but… you know why we’re getting shut down, right?”

Patton and Virgil tilted their heads at him, and Logan looked away. A smile appeared on Janus’s face, but not one of joy. One that had an edge, a venom in it. “Logan… you didn’t tell them?”

“It would only upset them,” the management angel replied, still not meeting Janus’s eyes.

“Yeah, because they’ll not be upset at all when they see Earth randomly explode in a few days,” Janus deadpanned.

“What?!” Patton and Virgil exclaimed in simultaneous dismay.

Logan glared at Janus. “Are you happy? Now we have to deal with this for the next week.”

“Earth can’t explode yet,” Virgil said matter-of-factly, “that’s not right. Right?”

Patton nodded emphatically. “We should’ve gotten at least a century’s notice! Or had it on a public schedule somewhere!”

“Yeah, God has to call it off. At least for now,” Virgil agreed.

“You want God to stop it?” Janus said with a laugh. “He didn’t even remember it was happening; it was His PA who told the management staff.”

“Yes, it was,” Logan narrowed his eyes at Janus. “How did you find out about it anyway?”

Janus opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Virgil cut in, “God’s not gonna do anything about it?”

“It’s been in His plan. Why would He need to change it?” Logan asked rhetorically, adjusting his large, round-framed glasses as he did so. It was a movement he made often when he was being a know-it-all.

“How’s Earth gonna die?” Patton asked, looking at the floor, still in denial. He had lived his life on Earth, he had been a human—they all had, before they died and became angels. It had been so long since he’d been alive, he couldn’t quite remember the feeling of it. The memory was blurred around the edges, but it still seeped warmth, like dough burning into bread over a fire. Now, the only connection he had to that sensation were the humans--the chance to watch them, how they lived such utterly flawed, full lives. He recalled Thomas’s hopeful expression.

“Asteroid,” Logan replied. He didn’t need to check his files to give the answer, his ink-blue wings stiff behind him--and that was when Patton knew, despite his cold, indifferent attitude, this news was weighing on him too.

“Like the dinosaurs. Well, bigger. But still unoriginal of Him,” Janus scoffed, checking his nails—well, more like checking his gloves, which seemed unnecessary. Something mournful crossed his face for a moment, but Patton couldn’t place what. “The dinosaurs were sad too.”

“You lived in the 19th century. You weren’t around for dinosaurs,” Logan stated, brow furrowed in confusion. Janus ignored him.

“An asteroid? He could prevent that so easily! Earth deserves to at least live to its natural end,” Patton said. He glanced to Virgil, hoping for backup, but his coworker seemed most focused on biting his black-polished nails into dust.

“Well, isn’t it the natural end if it was in His plan?” Logan asked, once again, rhetorically. He also adjusted his glasses again. Patton liked to think of himself as particularly nice, even for an angel, but he wouldn’t have minded seeing those glasses broken in that moment.

“I’m more interested in your claim that Earth doesn’t ‘deserve’ to end,” Janus smiled at Patton. It was a slippery kind of smile, one that he couldn’t grasp the intentions of. “Overall, it’s a dumpster fire of a planet, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, 99% of the prayers are literally impossible for angels to answer at this point.”

“Yeah, well, I know some angels who are too busy with their shitty wine to even try—“ Virgil began to complain, turning on Janus, but Patton was too busy having a revelation to pay much attention to it.

“That’s it!” Patton exclaimed, jumping up from his seat with a grin.

“Please, be more specific, Patton,” Logan sighed. “Define ‘it.’”

Patton was, once again, too busy to pay attention to this. He made for the doorway with haste, only tossing over his shoulder: “I’m going to meet God!”

•••

Logan, Janus, and Virgil made it to God’s office before Patton did. He wasn’t the best with maps, so sue him. The trio was waiting in the grand hallway for him, and he was thankful that they had decided to back him up, despite the fact they had no idea what he was doing. Even though the coworkers bickered their fair share, you couldn’t work as the only 4 angels in a crumbling department without a certain bond forming.

Patton gave them a grateful smile as he strolled past them and right up to the secretary’s desk. The secretary, who was… not present? He checked the name plaque. Engraved in the gold of it was: Mrs. Snuffles, but the ‘u’ had been scratched out and written over so that it was Mrs. Sniffles. Before Patton could even begin to be perplexed by this, a large orange tabby hopped up from the floor, where she had been hidden, and onto the desk.

The cat looked him in the eye, with a surprising amount of purpose, and meowed.

“Hello?” Patton asked, dumbfounded. “...Mrs. Sni—Snuffles?”

She meowed again, this time with an undercurrent of what Patton could only assume was impatience.

“I—“ Patton looked back at the group behind him, but they just shrugged. They were following his lead. That couldn’t be good. “We would like to schedule a meeting with God, please.”

Mrs. Snuffles trotted over to a stack of papers, and pushed the top one aside with a swipe of her paw. She looked up from it after a moment, and then jumped down from the table, going up to the gilded, arched doorway at the end of the hall. She started meowing loudly, and soon an angel with cardinal-red wings and a matching red suit jacket stepped out. He looked down at Mrs. Snuffles, then up at Patton.

“I’m terribly sorry, but God is not available right now. He’s very busy,” the angel explained with a polite smile, the kind that was trained and not felt, “and he will be until Earth explodes. Thank you, goodbye.”

“Oh,” Patton said dumbly. He maybe should have expected that.

Mrs. Snuffles hissed at the angel, and he sighed. “You really think they want to talk to Him?”

“We do!” Patton interjected.

“You think you do,” the angel replied, an undercurrent of bitterness to his tone.

“Same difference, right?” Patton said, giving the other a hopeful smile.

“Just let us in, Princey,” Virgil’s annoyed voice came from behind. “Don’t be an ass. At least not more of one than usual.”

Patton looked between the two of them. “You know each other?”

‘Princey’ gave Virgil a deadpan glare. “Fine. You want a meeting with God? Be my guest.” He stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing to it with a sarcastic flourish.

When no one else made a move, Virgil grumbled and pushed past Patton. The rest of the group followed. When they got to the door, Patton paused and turned to the red-winged man. “Princey—“

“Roman,” he corrected.

“Roman,” Patton repeated. He pointed at the cat curiously, “Mrs. ‘Sniffles’?”

Roman blushed. “I was allergic when I was alive.”

A resounding reply of “Me too!” went through the group, and they all turned to each other in mild surprise.

“It’s how I died!” Patton added cheerily.

“Huh,” Roman replied with a puzzled frown. He cleared his throat. “Well, good luck.”

“Thank you!” Patton said. He looked down at Mrs. Snuffles as well, “Thank you, too.”

She gave him a final, curt meow, and rubbed up to his legs, pushing his feet against the door. He laughed, turned to the others waiting for him, and they nodded. Roman opened the door, and gestured them in.

Patton didn’t know what he had expected God’s office to look like, but it was decidedly not what he found upon entering that door. He had expected something resembling the grand hallway leading up to it: golden statues, velvet carpet, ivory columns. And, sure, that seemed to be the basis of the office; it was everything that was added on that was surprising. The bookshelves were stacked exclusively with trashy magazines, the walls were covered in posters of boy bands and movie stars, and a side-room had been renovated into what appeared to be a personal Starbucks. Finally, in the center of it all, sitting on the sofa and watching TV, was:

“...God?” Patton asked unsurely.

The man--(should Patton call Him that?)--eyed the group from behind a pair of sunglasses. He didn’t bother to turn the TV off as He casually greeted, “Hey, babes! What’s up?”

“Um,” Patton glanced at his friends for help, but they were clearly just as lost as him. Well, not Janus; Janus seemed unbothered. This provided Patton some sense of comfort, enough for him to continue, “We wanted to ask about--”

“Hold that thought, hun,” God held up a finger. “Roman!”

Roman walked in, almost reluctantly, at the call. “Yes?”

“Be a peach and mute the TV, would you?” God asked, throwing His PA the remote. Roman caught it as if with practice, and pressed the mute button with a wry expression.

“Thanks, love you!” God said, then turned back to Patton. “What were we talking about?”

“Well--”

God tried to sip the frappe in His drink-holder, only to find it empty, and He interrupted again to say, “Roman, coffee alert! Mama needs His caffeine!”

Roman bit his lip, presumably to stop himself from letting out a sigh. When he walked to the Starbucks corner, he seemed to purposefully avoid eye contact with the group. Patton glanced at his friends, and found Virgil suppressing an amused grin, and Janus not bothering to suppress his.

“We wanted to ask about the end of the world,” Patton finally said.

God’s brow furrowed slightly. “End of the world? Oh! OH, that is coming up, isn’t it? When’s that again, Ro?”

Roman, from behind the coffee maker, replied, “7 and a half days.”

“Oo, fun!” God gasped, “That’s so soon! I totally forgot that was so soon, isn’t that crazy?”

“So crazy,” Roman agreed dryly, handing Him a new venti frappe.

“Right,” Patton said, almost at a loss, “So, you… want the world to end?”

God shrugged, using one finger to play with his coffee straw as he spoke. “It was in my plan, wasn’t it? Plus, I mean, y’know… Earth’s really, like, ‘ew’ right now, right? Like, sure, I COULD save it, and then I’d let the humans keep doing their little thing, but I don’t want that; they’re mostly messes. I wanna make… I dunno a new place with, like, more Idris Elba’s.”

“And you’re willing to kill the real Idris Elba for that?” Janus cut in. God looked him up and down critically, before asking,

“Hey, do I know you from something?”

“No,” Janus replied quickly, “Certainly not from Eden, and even if I was there, I wasn’t the snake. I’m a real angel, hush.”

Patton turned to him in confusion, but God just shrugged again, and said, “K, whatever. Anyway, yeah, what’d you gals wanna know about Earth again?”

“Um, we wanted you to, maybe… not… blow it up?” Patton asked.

“Hmm,” God hummed, “Thanks, but no thanks! Earth is gross, I’m just so over it, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Patton replied without thinking, unable to hide the frustration in his voice anymore, “If Earth’s messed up, all the more reason to be there for your children, and not just kill everything. It’s wrong.”

There was a ‘thunk’ against the floor, and Patton looked to see that Roman had dropped the old coffee cup he had been carrying to the trash. Logan and Virgil were staring at Patton with equally stricken expressions, and Janus’s face was unreadable. He suddenly realized what he had said. He then realized how many angels had fallen for saying much less.

God stood up slowly. He approached Patton until He was uncomfortably close.

“Awe,” He pouted, “babe, I know it’ll be sad, but how am I supposed to change it now? It’s in the plan, hun. I’m sure you understand.” He patted his cheek once condescendingly--a touch that carried the pleasant warmth of a sunbeam--before He stepped back and took a long sip of His coffee. Patton didn’t break eye contact the whole time.

“I have an idea,” Patton said in a newly sunny tone--the type of overly kind, conversational tone that should be feared-- “How about a bet?”

“Are you for real?” God gaped at the continued insolence, somewhere between disbelief and delight. In the end, delight--or at least novelty--won. “Deal with the Devil is out, deal with God is in; OK, I’m into it!”

“You say it’s too hard to save Earth now? Impossible, even?” Patton asked challengingly. He heard a quiet gasp of realization from Logan, and when he glanced behind himself, he noticed Janus was smiling, as if impressed. This gave him enough confidence to continue, “Impossible, like it would be impossible for a few random angels to answer an unanswerable prayer?”

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you’re saying, but I love the way you’re saying it,” God waved His hand appreciatively.

Patton took Logan’s tablet from his hands. He scrolled to find the ‘Discarded Prayers: Impossible’ file. He held it out to God for proof as he concluded, “If we can answer one of these prayers before the end of the world, surely you can stop it from ending.”

“THAT’S your plan?! Pat, we can’t complete the possible prayers half the time,” Virgil exclaimed. He buried his face in his hands. “Earth’s dead.”

God, however, let out a dreamy sigh, holding one hand against His chest. Patton wasn’t sure if he was meant to feel like the ambitious hero or the prize dog at a pet show. “You know, I should say no…” God bit his lip with the same expression a suburban mother might have when she was about to cheat on her juice cleanse, “...but I never could resist a little twist! Ok, shake on it!”

God extended His hand, and Patton took it without hesitation.

“I, God, proclaim: Earth will not be destroyed next week if, and only if, an impossible prayer is answered.” As He spoke, His palm began to glow white, such that Patton had to look away for fear of being blinded. If God’s touch had been a sunbeam previously, it was now the whole sun, and Patton almost cried out from the burning heat. Technically, he didn’t have skin in the same way he did when he was alive, but he swore he felt it melting off in that grip.

Yet when God pulled away, there was no extra light in the room, no damage to his hand.

God smiled innocently. “Ok! Cute! So, what prayer you gonna choose?”

Huh. Patton hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe Virgil’s concern wasn’t so unwarranted. He looked down at the tablet he was still holding. His eyes scanned past several prayers that were beyond impossible--fix capitalism, no more YouTube ads, fix global warming, no more incels--until his eyes caught on just the thing. An unabashed grin overtook Patton’s face in realization,

“Oh, I know exactly what prayer we’re doing.”

•••

“Well, have a good night!”

Nico turned his back on the cute mall man after he said it, and he had to push down the urge to glance back a final time. He tried not to believe in true love—it was at best unlikely, and at worst an extremely problematic trope—but he was a writer, and a daydreamer, and when he spotted the man a few tables down at the food court… he just knew.

Ok, he didn’t know, there was no way to know that kind of thing—but he did want. He did hope. And he did, in a move that was unprecedented for him, pray:

Please, if anyone’s up there: I know it’s silly, but I want this so badly. And I know it’s basically impossible at this point but, maybe… if we meet again... let this somehow work out?

#nicomas #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #what should my tag for this be #give up on a miracle #lucy.fic #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remy sanders #ts remy #ts logan #ts remus #ts janus #ts patton #ts virgil

31 notes · View notes

audreycritter · 4 years

Note

drunk (maybe crash) dev and baby pats

for ashley, in honor of the hours we’ve spent developing YET ANOTHER AU where Bruce gets the batkids little. have a sandbox dev, ashley. <3 ***

Kiran Devabhaktuni was 26 years old, a medical student at Gotham U, still a little drunk, and very, very, extremely dead. He was sitting on the grass-- perfectly trim, perfectly green-- staring at his car smashed into shrubbery and a low wall, the passenger side tyre flat and bumper smashed in. They were as ruined as his future.

He could see it now, drenched with petrol and on fire. He’d be suspended, his student visa would be revoked, he’d go back to England and have to live with…

Kiran swallowed, hard, to keep the bile down. He’d already thrown up once, in the car, on the passenger seat, before he’d scrambled out the driver’s window and landed on the gravel beside the road. The bonnet had been smoking, black plumes hissing out, and he’d stumbled back while two little boys emerged atop the shubbery screeching in delight like some strange, incoherent avenging angels.

It had taken his still-not-sober brain a bit too long to process that they weren’t bizarre, floating bush creatures, but were standing on the stone wall the bush had swallowed some years ago, watching the car with boyish, pyromanic glee.

A harsh bark of an order behind them made Kiran flinch, and both of them jump backward. Kiran tried standing and only succeeded in falling a few feet further away, into the grass, where he still sat. The gate several meters down the road swung open, and a man strode out with a child on his hip, and two more boys jumping along at his heels like eager puppies.

“Are you alright?” he called, sounding more concerned than angry. Kiran blinked and stared at the car, and then at the man. He looked familiar.

“You’re bleeding,” one boy announced, leaning close to his face. Kiran startled and winced, cradling his arm automatically when pain shot up into his shoulder.

“I’m...drunk,” he said, honestly, because his life was already over and he’d learned early on it was best to get the worst part over soonest. His da’s lecturing was still ringing in his head from the phone call earlier; the alcohol hadn’t drowned it out, after all. He’d ruined his life and his brain hadn’t even gotten properly numb yet.

“Dick, come here,” the man said, gesturing for the taller of the two boys to back away from the car. The smoke died with a final fizzle and the boy looked plainly disappointed. He didn’t go back to the man, but instead yelled, “I’ll get Alfred!” and climbed over the wall rather than go back to the gate.

The boy closer to Kiran prodded experimentally at Kiran’s forehead and Kiran shifted away.

“The car might blow up,” he said. “Tell me where it hurts. I’m five.”

“Are not!” a yell came from over the wall. “You’re four and you know it!”

“Almost!” the boy leaned his head back to howl into the air. He looked back at the man. “I don’t think he talks, Daddy.”

“Jason, give him some space. He’s probably in shock. Did you hit your head?”

“I was going to be a sodding neurosurgeon,” Kiran said faintly, as things began to truly sink in. “I...smashed up your gate.” He put his forehead on his arm, propped on his knee, to let a wave of dizziness-- concussion and failure alike-- wash over him.

“We’ll call an ambulance. How much were you drinking? Can I look at your eyes?”

“Vodka. Not a full bottle,” Kiran said, automatically. A screaming lecture on telling the truth was mixing with a rotation lecture on accurate charting in the ER in his head, making him feel like his brain was full of tangled and knotted strings. “Please don’t call an ambulance. I’ll walk.”

“You’ll walk,” the man echoed. “Hm. Let me see your eyes.”

Kiran tried to open them, and winced and squinted. The sun was brighter than he remembered it being a moment ago, but they adjusted slowly.

“You broke my wall,” the man said, when Kiran was looking at him, and the man was studying Kiran’s eyes. He’d always thought it was funny, how you could study someone’s eyes and still not be looking at them, the way they might be looking at you. It made him feel now a bit like an insect, squirming under a magnifying glass and tweezers. The man’s voice had gotten a little harder, and then it went to positive ice. “You could have hit one of my children.”

“I know,” Kiran tried to choke out. His throat was closing up. “I’m sorry. I’m really...I’m...I’m really bloody sorry.”

He had to wrench his chin down, because his eyes were filling with tears that weren’t from the too-familiar pain in his head, and he thought he’d crossed enough lines today without adding crying in front of a stranger to the list.

“Do you drink and drive often?” the man asked, and Kiran could feel him moving back, see his feet moving around the car as he studied it.

“No,” Kiran managed. “Just the once, so far. Started off with a sodding bang, innit?”

There was a dry, humorless chuckle in response; a quiet aside to one of the boys.

Kiran wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down in the grass and weep until his throat stopped hurting, until the sky was dark. The worst part was that out of all the things he struggled to understand how his father expected him to control, this one was solidly and clearly his fault. If only he hadn’t answered the phone today, if only he hadn’t decided to go for a drive, if only he hadn’t pried the top off a bottle of vodka and told himself ‘just one sip, then I’ll go home and finish it.’

His chest was a blackhole, sucking in his future and the what-ifs and the narrow misses until it was a weight so heavy he nearly couldn’t breathe. His breath hitched and he felt the oddest sensation on his cheek.

Then again. It was a little pat, over and over. A tiny, chubby hand.

He drew in a slow breath and looked up. Serious baby eyes looked at him, wide with concern, as the toddling baby patted his cheek in an attempt at consoling.

“Tim,” the man said, “don’t bother him. He’s not feeling very well.”

The man sounded kind, and Kiran suddenly understood why. It was because the baby was there. He was just saving his real anger for when the kids were inside, and the police showed up, and Kiran didn’t think his roommate would appreciate a bail call so that was out.

“Nuh,” the baby Tim said, shaking his head. He kept patting, little soft pats like Kiran was a frightened animal that needed soothing. Kiran was frozen.

“Thanks, mate,” Kiran managed to say.

The baby Tim sat in the grass and moved his hand to Kiran’s knee, watching his face carefully as he patted. “Better?” he asked, after another minute.

“Yeah,” Kiran said quietly. It was not entirely a lie.

The baby didn’t move from his spot, watching, and if Kiran had been any less miserable he might have found it creepy. Instead, it was just bizarrely reassuring.

“If you think you can get up, we might as well go inside and sort this out,” the man said. “I’m Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce Wayne.

Kiran had smashed up a car on Bruce Wayne’s lawn.

He was going to sodding pass out.

Somehow, he managed to stand, while the inside of his skull screamed from terror and pain.

“Kiran Devabhaktuni,” he heard himself say. “I really am sorry. I don’t have to come in.”

He made the mistake of moving his arm, and he was drenched in white hot pain that muted even the ache in his head. His head that was still positively swimming from vodka, and when had he eaten last? How long ago had he answered the phone?

The man’s arm was around him and he was crying, sod it all, he was crying and he had the distant, detached thought that maybe it was possible to have two worst days in the same lifetime. Later, would he look back at the day where he flushed his entire future down the drain and remember with a flush of shame that he’d also cried on Bruce Wayne? Or would that just fade into the general miasma of misery, then?

“I think my arm is broken,” he mumbled, while swaying.

“I think so, too. You went as gray as a ghost,” Bruce Wayne said. “Jay-lad, go tell Alfred to get a splint. I think he’s coming out with Dick now.”

Half an hour later, Kiran was sitting at a kitchen table with his arm splinted and iced. He had water, and a cup of black coffee he was forcing himself to drink despite hating the taste. Bruce and a man dressed as household staff had a quiet conversation that sounded very little like the sort of discussion oen had with staff. The baby, Tim, was kneeling on a chair near Kiran’s and every so often would pat his uninjured arm. He kept staring at Kiran’s face with a searching, anxious little look, until Kiran finally said, “Look, mate, I’ll be alright,” just to see if it would make the baby feel any better. Tim seemed satisfied by this, and the pinched worry faded but the occasional pats didn’t stop.

Kiran waited, his own tension still high and nauseating.

Did it take the police so long to make it out here from Gotham?

“Well,” Bruce Wayne said, coming back to the table a moment later. One of the boys-- Dick?-- was climbing on him like he was a jungle gym, and he stoically ignored it, and let it happen. Kiran found it downright bewildering. “Alfred is going to take you to the hospital to have that arm set, and your head looked at. We’ll have someone tow the car. We think, considering the circumstances, that it would be too much of a mess to report this or file charges. If Alfred stays with you until they admit you or discharge you, will you think about going to AA? He can get you a number.”

Kiran blinked at him. And blinked again. He didn’t…”I don’t understand,” he said bluntly.

“It’s a second chance, Mr. Devabhaktuni.”

“I don’t…”

Get second chances, he wanted to say.

He swallowed.

“I’ll take the number,” he said quietly, instead. He wanted to duck his head but he made himself look Bruce Wayne in the face when he said, “Thank you,” in the loudest whisper he could manage. “It’s just...it’s Kiran. Just Kiran.”

“What happened today?” Bruce Wayne asked, pulling out a chair.

“I got a phone call,” Kiran said, feeling he owed him that much at least. “I don’t get along with my da.”

“Hm,” Bruce Wayne said. “Maybe don’t answer the phone, next time.”

The boy who had been climbing settled on Bruce Wayne’s lap, kissed his cheek, and jumped off. “I’m sorry your car didn’t explode,” he said earnestly. “But it’s probably good that it didn’t.”

“Mine,” Tim said, patting Kiran’s arm again.

“No,” Bruce Wayne said, reaching across the table and moving Tim’s hand. The baby gave him a look of profound irritation and gently, intentionally, moved his hand back. “You don’t claim people,” Bruce Wayne said, despite this small rebellion.

“After nap?”

“No, not even after a nap. We’re not bargaining, Tim.”

“Oh. Please?”

Kiran was quiet through this, watching with a desperately silent and aching hunger he didn’t quite understand, until suddenly he did. This wasn’t how families sounded, not to him. A wave of irrational hatred sparked hot, followed almost immediately by an sour self-loathing. The little hand patted his shoulder again.

“No,” Bruce Wayne said. “Not even for please.”

“Mine friend,” Tim said, emphasizing.

“That’s alright,” Bruce conceded. “If Kiran doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all, mate,” Kiran said, feeling choked and a little lightheaded at the whiplash of the day. “That’s bloody fine with me.”

231 notes · View notes

fuckyeahscienceparty · 3 years

Note

hey if ur taking requests for writing...., what abt angsty among us idea- reports a body and like.. engie attends and it turns out medic was killed? and then hes heartbroken and really sad and angry at spy for killing medic? obviously u dont have to do this but the among au had me thinking about a ton of angsty scenarios lol. have a good day!!

i'm always takin requests! it may take me a while to get there but i will try my damndest to get it done at some point!

i actually had part of this in my drafts when you originally sent this ask but it's been reason enough to finish it, i think. i hope you like it, even if it's a bit messy :>

Per Aspera Ad Astra

In which an imposter experiences the loss of someone he loved and wasn't supposed to.

As Dell heard the emergency meeting alarm blare over the intercom and red lights flashed overhead, he looked up from the mass of wires he'd agreed to rearrange for Medic, furrowing his brow.

Odd. Spy hadn't made it clear to him that he was going to attempt anything that day and he knew for a fact that he himself hadn't made any sabotages since last week.

Then again, he'd noticed that this crew in particular had no qualms against using the emergency meeting button for more trivial things. Someone probably just wanted to get everyone's attention to look at some weird space bug that hitchhiked from their last stop on Pollus a few weeks ago or something along those lines. Standard procedure at that point.

He packed up the wires he'd been holding back into their panel before making his way out of electrical and towards the cafeteria, readjusting his goggles over his eyes to make sure nobody would find him out.

When he'd arrived, he could practically physically feel the shift in attitude of the rest of the crew since that morning, mentally noting that Medic was currently the only one of them missing.

"Tex, there you are. You uh. Might want to sit down for this one, lad," Demo said gravely, all the other crewmates' mumbling amongst each other dying down instantly as Spy stood to the side of the table, having said nothing ever since he himeself had arrived.

"Uhm. Sure, ok. Shouldn't we wait for Doc first, though? If it's actually important he should probably be here," He said, a confused smile coming to his face. Demo physcially winced.

"See, that's the thing, it's. It's Doc, he's..." Demo trailed off, Sniper moving to put a hand on his shoulder.

"He's?..." Engie frowned, having to take a moment before he realized what he'd meant.

It took another moment for the dread to set in.

"No. No, that- that's impossible, I- I just saw him like 30 minutes ago. I agreed to do one of his tasks for him while he finished cleaning the medbay so we could finish up for the day," He stuttered, looking anxiously between all the other faces at the table. None of them could meet his gaze even through his goggles, Spy in particular insisting on staring out the large window that peered into the vastness of space around them instead.

...Spy.

Spy said he wouldn't touch him- said he'd let him find a way to deal with all of this effectively and without having to kill this particular crew. Especially Medic. He said- no, he promised he wouldn't.

Engie's anger soon started bubbling inside of him, tightly clenching his fists that he oh so desperately wanted to sucker punch a certain other imposter in the face with. But then came the second realization of what he'd done and he felt his arms go slack again.

Medic was dead.

"...Where is he?" He finally whispered out, somewhere between heartbroken and seething.

"Medbay. Demo, Sniper, and I called for the meeting as quick as we could and did not get the chance to move his. Corpse," Soldier said, standing up straight and visibly uneasy at the mentioning of Medic's dead body.

Engie slowly nodded.

"Ok. Did you fellas, uh. Did- did you contact Pollus yet?"

"Not yet. I was gonna after the meetin's over. 's gonna take us a while to get there tho, at least 2 weeks," Scout said.

"I see. Did you three uh. Did you see anything?" Engie asked Demo, Sniper, and Soldier, all of them shaking their heads.

"Pyro, Heavy, 'n Scout were on comms because they were finished with tasks already and all three of 'em say they didn't see anyone go into Medbay after you left."

"...what about you, Spy? Been awfully quiet the entire time. And you don't have an alibi," Scout squinted. Spy scoffed.

"I was also finished with tasks, I've been in my quarters for at least 2 hours. You can even roll back footage on the cameras."

Pyro pressed a button on their suit, the small speaker on their chest panel letting out a soft 'kshh'.

"...he does have a point. Cams don't lie."

"What if he used the vents, though?"

"You really think this pansy's gettin' in any vents?"

"...Aight, fair point."

"I do not think we have enough information to make decision," Heavy sighed, every looking to each other in a vague sense of agreement.

"Skip vote, then?"

"Yeah, I think that's for the best."

"Alright lads, be on alert, then. If you see anythin' suspicious, y' know where the button is," Demo sighed, patting the plastic cover that protected the emergency meeting button.

Everyone mumbled out affirmations before getting up to head out, Pyro staying behind to raise their hand.

"Ay, what is it, Py?"

Kshh. "...who's taking care of uh. Y'know. The body."

Engie squeezed his eyes shut briefly.

"I'll do it."

"Tex, no, we couldn't ask you t-"

"Demo, it's fine. I'm not a child, you don't need to baby me. I can deal with it."

"If you're so sure..."

"It's fine. Really. You go make sure everyone else is doin' ok, lord knows they'd need it," Engie smiled softly, giving Demo a pat on the arm.

Demo's eyes still showed worry but he nodded, reciprocating the gesture before hurrying into the direction of nav where everyone else went.

Spy turned to leave but Engie stopped him, shifting his goggles back to his forehead.

"...Why did you do it?" He asked softly. He could've sworn that he saw the slightest break of stoicism on Spy's face but perhaps it was just the awful fluorescent lighting of the cafeteria playing tricks on him.

"You were taking too long. It was getting risky for us to be here. I thought it better to end it sooner rather than later," He said, any trace of emotion leaving as quickly as it came as he turned his head. Engie had no response.

"Remember what they did to us. To you. Just because one treated you kindly does not mean others will."

Silence.

"...Don't sabotage anything tonight. They'll get suspicious. Be prepared to leave this ship in a week's time, without the Medic they'll fall apart. Do I make myself clear?"

Still nothing. Spy frowned.

"I said, do I make myself clear, Dell?" He asked again, not even bothering to mask the threatening tone in his voice this time.

Engie squeezed his eyes shut again.

"...Yes. Yes, you do."

"Very well. I will see you in the morning," He said, moving so that Engie's hand no longer rested on his shoulder and starting to make his way to hallway that led to crew's personal quarters.

Spy paused to look back, a feeling that could almost be described as pity overcoming him. He sighed.

"...Get over it. You only knew him for less than 8 months, anyways," He said softly before leaving Engie alone, footsteps echoing against the metal floors of the ship.

When he felt he was ready, Engie made his way to the Medbay with full expectations of what he would find there.

He just. Didn't expect it to hurt so much.

Medic's body lay on the floor in between the scanner and the large computer it was attached to, his normally bright cyan suit soaked in red and a sizable gash made into his back. There was a broken test tube that had fallen out of his hand a little ways away and one of the lensed of his glasses had been cracked, most likely from the impact of falling onto the floor.

Engie took in a deep breath before carefully sitting him up against the nearest wall, preparing himself to find something to clean up the blood that hadn't managed to be absorbed into his space suit.

He wasn't used to Medic being so.. quiet. Lifeless, if you would. He couldn't remember a single time he'd felt a pain in his chest as intense as this.

It was then that his anger suddenly came back, barely being able to contain himself before he turned around and ended up making a decently large crack in the monitor.

He tried to control the emotions that came flooding after, tried to keep himself from feeling this way over this one human when he'd aided the destruction of countless others, but when he felt himself shaking, he fell to his knees, a sob escaping him.

He shouldn't have gotten attached. He shouldn't have, it wasn't like him- like an imposter to get attached, and yet here he was, crying on the Medbay floor as blood soaked into his already red suit and glass shards clinked against the desk as they fell off piece by piece.

Serves him right for believing in humans, he guesses. Serves him right for having the audacity to care.

...what a stupid decision, that was.

#tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #tf2 science party #medic x engineer #tf2 spy #and like everyone else but no tags for them to keep things clean #am #fic #asks #mmmilkbee #abungus #c's writing #hokay sleepy times

20 notes · View notes

fan-imagines · 4 years

Text

Scott McCall~Being an Argent Pt. 2/?

MASTERLIST

Scott McCall x FemReader

Series Synopsis - Scott falls for you instead of your cousin Allison. After a few months, you get the bite, and you mom tries to kill you since you’re an Argent. You run away from her, and she makes up a story to tell. You come back when there is a threat in Beacon Hills, and everyone is astounded that you’re alive.

Part Synopsis - Scott ditches you at the party, and asks for a second chance. you also go to his first game, that he wins. -mostly a filler part

Word Count - 2.3k+

**Warnings** none really

I walk into my house, and throw my keys on the bowl on the side table.

‘’Where have you been young lady?’’ The lights turn on, and my mom is standing in front of me.

‘’I’m sorry, mom. I went to lacrosse practice after school, then the library, and I lost track of time. When I was driving home, I hit a dog, so I had to take it to the animal clinic.’’ I explain.

‘’You cannot be out too late in this town, Y/n. It’s dangerous here.’’ She says.

‘’Come on, mom. There is nothing here. The only thing that happened was me hitting a dog.’’

‘’I just need you to stay safe, sweetie. Go on upstairs and get ready for bed.’’ I nod, not wanting to question her, and walk up to my room. I quickly shower and brush my teeth before laying in my bed. I stare up at the ceiling, not being able to control my smile. I have a date for Friday with the cutest boy.

~~~~

I smile up at Scott as we dance together at the party he asked me to. I pull him a little closer to my body, but not too close, this is only our first date. I maintain our eye contact as we rock back and forth, and he holds my side. He squeezes my side before pulling away slightly and wincing. He does it again, and it causes some panic to rise in me.

‘’Are you okay?’’ I try to make eye contact with him again, but he averts his eyes.

‘’I’ll be right back.’’ I watch him walk away from me for a few seconds before I decide I should go and check after him. He did not look alright. I push my way past people, trying to get to him. He makes it all the way outside, and I quickly go down the stairs to see him getting in his car, and driving away. Before I can think too much about it, I hear my name being called behind me. I turn to the man speaking.

‘’I’m a friend of Scott's.’’ I turn back to the road I just watched Scott drive down. ‘’My name is Derek.’’ He steps closer to me, and I am a little wary, especially thinking about what my mom told me just a few days ago.

‘'Umm, do you know where he just went?’’

‘’He had some issues. He asked me if I could take you home.’’ I take a breath and choose to believe him. I follow him to his car, and sit in the front seat.

‘’I’m, uh, staying at my cousin’s tonight.’’ I say, kind of nervous around him. He seems older than me, but he can’t be more than three or four years older.

‘’Okay, where is that?’’ I give him address, and we don’t really speak after that. I’m thinking too much to speak. Where did Scott go? What happened? Who the heck is Derek, and is he an actual friend of Scott’s? By the time i look back up, we’re at Allison’s house. I thank him for the ride, and silently thank god for allowing me to still be alive after riding with a stranger.

I make my way to Allison’s room, even though she isn’t even here yet. I take off my jacket, and sit on the floor, against the wall with a pillow. I wonder if I should call Scott, but I also don’t know what happened, so I don’t want to bother him if it’s something serious.

About ten minutes go by, and Allison walks into the room, and smiles at me.

‘’Hey, why are you home so early? I thought you had a hot date.’’ She inquires as she takes off her jacket.

‘’Some guy named Derek told me that he had something come up, and he dropped me off about fifteen minutes ago.’’

‘’Oh, I'm sorry.’’

‘’No, it's okay. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.’’ I har a rapid knocking on the door, and then Allison’s name being called. I stand up and follow her out to hallway where the stairs are and look over the railing to see Stiles standing there with an awed look on his face.

‘’Hi, Stiles.’’ I say.

‘’Hi, you’re, umm, you’re here.’’

‘’Yes, where else would I be? Scott ditched me.’’ I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for any sort of explanation.

‘’Yeah, um, about that. I’ll just have him talk to you. I just wanted to make sure you were home safe.’’ He says and looks at my aunt.

‘’That’s very kind. Well, it’s a little late, and you should be getting home. It’s not safe this late at night.’’ She says. He nods and steps away from the door. She closes it behind him, and I look at Allison confused. We go back to her room, and shower and change before talking most of the night.

~~~~

I walk out of the school after attending the lacrosse game at the high school. Lydia and Jackson kept us later than intended talking about themselves, as per usual, but I don’t mind too much. Allison walks beside me, and I see Scott sitting on a bench, bobbing his knee up and down.

‘'I’ll leave you to it.’’ She says and she walks behind him, and towards the sidewalk as we wait for her dad to come pick us up.

‘'So, what happened? You left me stranded at the party.’’ I say as I walk past him, wanting to keep up a strong exterior.

‘’I know. I know. I’m really sorry, I am. But, you’re gonna have to trust that I had a really good reason.’' He walks beside me.

‘’Did you get sick?’’ i question.

‘’I definitely had an attack from something.’’ I squint my eyes in confusion.

‘'Am I going to get an explanation?’’ I stop and turn to him.

‘’Can you find it in your heart to trust me on this?’’ He pleads. I sigh, knowing that I want to just forget about it. It’s really not that serious.

‘’Am I going to regret this?’’

‘'Probably.’’ I chuckle at him.

‘’So is that a yes to a second chance?’’

‘’A definite yes.’’ We get a little closer, but we’re pulled out of the moment when I hear a car horn honk. I turn and see the maroon SUV, which is my Uncle Chris’ car. ‘’That’s my uncle. I’d better go.’’ I smile at him and he nods. Allison gets into the front seat, and I get into the back, driver’s side.

~~~~

‘’Are you excited for the game tonight, Y/n?’’ Lydia ask me. We make our way up the bleachers, wanting to find good seats. We it with Lydia, me, Allison, then Uncle Chris on the end.

‘’Umm, yeah, sure.’’ The referee blows his whistle which lets all of the first line know they need to get into position. Beacon Hills gets the ball, and the players fight over it for a few seconds. The ball ends up on the ground, so both Jackson and Scott go for it at the same time. Jackson gets there sooner, and shoves Scott to the side to get the ball. He makes a shot, and it’s a point for us, but I can’t help but focus on Scott. Everyone around me cheers, and I clap too. Lydia bends down to grab the poster that she made, saying ‘WE LUV U JACKSON’.

She gestures for me and Allison to help her hold it up, and I nod grabbing the middle. Allison grabs the side. We cheer, as the players gather round to discuss the next play.

The game continues, and Jackson has made every point, and thrown every ball. The score is 3-5, with the other team winning. There’s another time out, and Uncle Chris leans over to Allison. I hear him ask which one Jackson is, and Lydia answers him.

‘’Number 11. The only one that has caught the ball.’’ I lightly roll my eyes to this, they haven't even given Scott the chance to prove himself. Lydia stands up again and lifts her sign. ‘’Y/n, some help here please.’’ I sigh and stand up, holding a different sign that says, ‘Jackson is #1’.

The ref blows the whistle, and they start again. The ball is thrown into the air, and Scott catches it, and takes off down the field. He dodges all the opposite players coming at him, and I perk up. He throws it into the net, and our score changes from a three to a four, and everyone goes crazy. I shoot up, and drop the sign I was holding to cheer. He scores another in about twenty seconds, and the ball flies through the players stick, and into the goal.

Coach tries to persuade the ref to keep the point, and they give it to him. We all continue to cheer, and I even see Lydia clapping.

There’s about thirty-five seconds on the clock, and the score is tied. Jackson and a player from the other team go face-to-face to fight for the ball. The ref blows his whistle to start the time again, and the ball is tossed to Scott. He carries the ball to a little closer to the goal, and looks back and forth to see what direction he wants to take. I check the clock, and there are fifteen seconds left.

‘'Come on, you can do it, Scott.’’ I whisper and hold my hands to my face in anticipation.

At four seconds left, two players charge at Scott, but he winds back and throws the ball into the goal, and it makes it in just as the clock hits zero.

‘’Whoo!’’ I shout, and everyone starts running from the stands and onto the field.

I get to the field, but Scott isn’t anywhere to be seen. I see he’s running off the field,back towards the school. I follow him in confusion, wanting to congratulate him. I follow him into the gym, and I know he went to the boy’s locker room. I hesitate to go in at first, but then decide I don’t care. As I turn the corner I see his helmet on the floor.

‘’Scott? Scott, are you here?’’ I make my way in deeper, and see broken glass from a mirror covering the floor. The walls start to creak and rustle, and I start to get nervous as I look around to see if he’s here. I put my back to a locker, feeling like I'm being watched, and not wanting someone or something to come up behind me. A locker door closes, and I move away from the locker I was leaning on.

‘’Scott?’’ I walk towards the showers where I hear water dripping. ‘’Scott?’’ I see him leaning his arms against the shower wall, and I step up to him. ‘’Hey, are you okay? Scott. You scared me. Are you alright?’’ I rub his shoulder, and he nods.

‘’Yeah. Sorry, I just got kind of lightheaded for a sec.’’

‘’Maybe it’s the adrenaline. You were pretty amazing out there.’’

‘’I’m sorry for acting really weird today.’’ I dismiss him.

‘’It’s okay. I can handle weird.’’ I smile.

‘’To be completely honest, you make me kind of nervous.’’

‘'I do?’’

‘’Kind of like, really nervous,’’ I chuckle at him, and look down. ‘’I just – I just want to make sure I get my second chance.’’

‘’You have it already. I’m just waiting for you to take it.’’ I smile at him, gaining more confidence. I step away from him, and he comes with me.

‘'Well, maybe I need to learn to take more chances.’' He gets closer to me, and I feel my heart start to pick up pace.

‘’Maybe you do.’’ I look up, and he’s half a foot away from my face. I look at his lips, then back to hie eyes, and he does the same to me. He closes the gap, and slowly connects our lips. ^^^ He holds my waist, and I put my arms on his shoulders. We pull away after a few seconds, and I giggle.

‘’I gotta get back to Allison and my uncle.’’ He nods. I give a quick peck on the lips before walking away. I see Stiles as I am walking, and greet him. ‘'Stiles.’’ I give him a light wave as I feel a small blush rise in my cheeks.

‘'Hey, yeah.’’ He waves back, and I keep walking out.

I make it to Allison, and I can just feel the stupid grin I have on my face. Especially when she starts smiling back.

‘’So, what happened?’’ She quips. I see Uncle Chris looking at me, so I play it off.

‘’Nothing really. I just went to make sure he was okay, and he told me he was glad for a second chance.’’ He looks away, and Allison raises an eyebrow. I nod, and she knows exactly what that means. She squeals a little, and pulls me into a crushing hug. I laugh with her, and then we follow her dad to the car.

~~~~

I wave to Uncle Chris and Allison as I make my way into my house.

‘’How was the game, sweetie?’’ My mom asks me as I step into the kitchen, where she is.

‘’It was great. We won, and Scott scored the winning goal.’’ I smile. I grab a drink from the fridge. I pull myself up onto the counter.

‘'That’s not all that happened. Spill.’’ I giggle, thinking about it again.

‘’He kissed me. After the game.’’

‘’Shut up, Y/n! Yay!’’ I laugh with her, and she gives me a hug.

‘’It was amazing, mom.’’

‘'I bet it was, sweetie. I’m gonna head off to bed now. I have to meet Chris early tomorrow to talk about work.’’ She gives me a kiss on the head, and walks off to her room. I hop off the counter, and do the same.

31 notes · View notes

breanime · 4 years

Note

hi angel! can I request miguel galindo with the prompts 190. “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.” and 187. “I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?” thank u so much! 💕

This got so long, I’m gonna link it in my Miguel masterlist haha.

Miguel couldn’t take his eyes off of you all day. How could he? You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and every time you moved, he was graced with a new view of your gorgeous body in that dress.

That dress.

God, you looked so damn good in that dress, it was criminal. Nestor was marrying one of your closest friend’s—a woman Miguel wholeheartedly approved of—and yet you outshone her and everyone else at the reception. You wore the same exact dress of the other 6 bridesmaids, but they all paled in comparison to you. Your beauty was unmatched, and as you walked around, hugging friends and making sure everything was running smoothly, Miguel’s desire for you grew and grew.

He’d always wanted you, since the day Nestor’s girl brought you around in college, but it seemed like the two of you were always just missing one another, in terms of romance. Except for one night…

It was Miguel’s senior year, and your junior year. Miguel and Emily were broken up, though everyone knew they would eventually get back together. Nestor was visiting both Miguel and your friend, and the four of you went out drinking. Somehow, you and Miguel ended up alone in his apartment (Galindos did not do dorms), with his arm around your shoulder as you sipped beer on the couch.

“Did you know that you’re never more than 6 feet away from a spider at any given moment?” You asked, resting your beer in your lap.

Miguel laughed, cocking an eyebrow as he smiled down at you. This felt so right, being with you like this, his arm around you and you curled up against his side. Miguel had always felt a closeness and calmness with you that he never felt with anyone else—Emily included—and he loved being with you. “That can’t be true.”

“It is!” You argued. “No matter where you are—the car, an airplane, the shower—”

--an image of you in his shower, mouth open and neck exposed to him (everything exposed to him), flashed in his mind, and Miguel cleared his throat, hoping you couldn’t guess the turn his thoughts had taken.

“—it’s a fun fact.”

“How is that fun?” He chuckled, tilting his head as he looked at you. “I don’t want to be thinking about spiders when I’m in the shower.”

You bit your lip, your hand darting out to land on his chest. “There’s probably a spider near us right now,” you said, your voice low and unnecessarily sexy, “I feel so unsafe.”

Miguel laughed again. “You know you’re always safe with me, corazon,” he took your hand in his, not moving it from his chest, “I won’t let any spiders get you.”

“You promise?” You batted your eyelashes at him, and Miguel felt his chest tighten.

He had to have you.

Miguel leaned closer slowly, giving you the time to read his actions and move away or stop him if you wanted, but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in too, until Miguel was pressing his lips against yours, sighing contently at the feeling. His hand was still holding yours when he pulled back, his dark eyes staring at you, watching you closely for any signs of discomfort or regret. He didn’t see any. “I promise,” he said, his voice coming out in a whisper.

“I—” you began but stopped when there was a knock on the door.

“Miguel!” Emily called from the other side of the door, pounding as she spoke. “Miguel! Open up, mi amor, I know you’re home!”

You and Miguel stared at each other for a moment, frozen in time. Miguel always regretted his inaction in that moment; he wondered, often, what his life would have been like if he’d acted faster. Maybe he wouldn’t be a divorced single father had he reacted quicker. Maybe you would have been Mrs. Miguel Galindo…

…maybe he would have been happy.

Instead, he had stood up, facing the door, and that one movement was enough to put up a wall between the two of you.

“I’m drunk,” you had announced, jumping off the couch and pulling your shoes on, “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.”

“Y/N—”

“—I should go. I’m gonna go,” you said as Emily continued knocking, “Uh… I’m gonna sneak out the back,” you decided, turning towards the balcony.

“Yeah,” he agreed, already walking towards the front door even though every part of him wanted to stay with you, “okay… I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“Right,” you nodded, not looking at him, “See ya, Miguel.”

And with that, you walked out of his apartment, and he only ever saw you in passing or in groups of people. He invited you to his wedding, more out of obligation than an actual desire to share that day with you, but you said you couldn’t make it. You had sent a nice gift in your place, though, and Miguel couldn’t help but picture your face as he held his new bride’s hand.

Now he was single, and you were… with some guy? Miguel’s eyes squinted as he regarded the man you’d brought as your date. He was an academic type, judging from the width of his forehead and his wimpy little arms, and he was new money, Miguel could tell. He wasn’t worthy of you—not that any man besides himself was—and he watched, unimpressed, as the man followed you around, barely keeping up with you as you flittered around the party.

“She looks beautiful.” Miguel looked up to see his ex-wife, Emily, standing next to him, a glass of champagne in her hands as she stared over at you, a soft smile on her face. “Y/N,” she clarified when Miguel didn’t respond, “she looks beautiful, don’t you think?”

He nodded, taking a sip from his own glass. “Yes, she does,” he agreed, eyes on you. You had been laughing with Dita when your little nerd boyfriend had come over and stolen your attention.

“You should ask her to dance,” Emily counseled. Her smile widened at the skeptical look on Miguel’s face at her words. “I’m not blind, Miguel. I know you’ve always had feelings for her.” She shrugged. “I used to think that you loved her, and that was fine, because you loved me more.” She gave a humorless laugh. “We wasted so much time trying to force a love that had died a long time ago, didn’t we, Miguel?”

“We did,” he said, turning to look at her. He felt a strange sense of affection for her in that moment; nothing sexual, just… He was glad his friend was there. “I often think about how things would be if you’d stayed with EZ, and I…”

“…Had stayed with Y/N?” She finished. “I always wondered… Did the two of you ever…?”

“We kissed,” he answered, “once, in college. That was all.” He could hear the bitterness in his voice.

“Hm,” Emily nodded, crossing her arms and watching you with Miguel, “that’s too bad…”

“What do you know about him?” Miguel asked, inclining his head towards you and the pencil pusher you’d brought with you.

She laughed. “Not much. But if I had to bet, I’d say he was just another place holder…” She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. “…for someone better.”

Miguel nodded, gulping down the last of his champagne before placing the glass on the nearest table. Someone better. “Thank you,” he said, dropping a soft kiss to the top of Emily’s head as he walked past her. He strode over to you, eyes focused on you and you only, and came to stand behind you. “Excuse me,” he said, flashing you a dazzling smile, “can I have this dance?”

Your pretty eyes widened in surprise, but you nodded, agreeing to the dance. Miguel held out his hand, smirking over at the human calculator that was your date, and led you to the dancefloor. He put his hands on your hips and swayed with you, smiling down at you and feeling happier and more at peace than he had in a long, long time.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, “You look… You look beautiful.”

You smiled shyly. “Thanks, Miguel. You look very handsome yourself,” you licked your lips, and Miguel wanted to lick them too, “I saw you talking with Emily. That’s good.”

“She was just telling me to shoot my shot,” he said honestly, “with you,” he clarified, “We both agreed that we wasted too much time with the wrong people.”

“Oh,” you said, eyes wide, “You… You did?”

He nodded, chuckling at the shock on your face. Did you really not know how he felt? If things went well, he looked forward to showing you just what it meant to be loved by Miguel Galindo. “Yeah, but I see now that you have a boyfriend—”

“—He isn’t my boyfriend,” you said quickly, “he’s just a friend from work.” You smiled, clearing your throat and trying to come off as less eager, which only made Miguel that much fonder of you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m single.”

“Listen, mi corazon,” he said, his voice smooth and even, “I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, “please.”

Miguel felt his knees go weak at that ‘please’. Grateful and slightly proud of himself for staying upright, Miguel bent down and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours slow and careful, and he moved a hand to your neck, angling your head to get better access to your lips. You fit against him perfectly, you were made for this—for him—and Miguel was made for you. Finally, he was forced to pull back so the two of you could breathe. He smiled down at you when he saw the affection in your eyes—the same affection, he thought, that was reflected in his. “You see,” he said, both hands on either side of your face now, “this time, there won’t be anything getting in the way.” He stared down at you, and man… He wanted to devour you, wanted to pull you to him and never let you go—so much so, that he couldn’t even keep the desire and possessiveness out of his eyes, he knew you could see it.

And you smiled.

Miguel kissed you again, hard and rough, his lips moving against yours as his tongue slipped into your mouth and his hands kept you close. He broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily, and stared down at you. “We need to get out of here,” he said, voice low, “now.”

You grinned, and he wanted to feel that grin against his lips again…and for the rest of his life. “You want to just leave the wedding?” You asked, giggling as Miguel took your hand and started to lead you through the crowd. “What will people say?”

“They’ll say ‘thank God, they didn’t stay and I didn’t have to see Miguel Galindo fuck Y/N in the middle of the ballroom’,” he said back, stopping once you got to the edge of the dancefloor to kiss you again, “I wasted so much time,” he murmured against your lips, “so much time when I should have been loving you…” He sighed. “I have so much to make up for…”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, smiling up at him with those irresistible eyes that he adored, “Let’s start now,” you said, “c’mon, jefe, take me home…”

And he did.

From then on, Miguel pulled out all the stops, showering you with all of the love, affection, and attention he wished he’d shown you all those years ago. It took you a while, at first, to get used to being so spoiled, but eventually you did. And Miguel made sure to keep his first promise to you, the one he’d made in his college apartment so long ago—

—keeping you safe from spiders.

On your 10-year anniversary, after enduring some friendly ribbing from Nestor and his wife, you brought a bouquet into the room, your diamond ring glittering in the sun. Emily had sent it, congratulating you both on your anniversary and wishing you 10 more years of marital bliss. You placed the flowers on a ledge in the living room, right next to the picture Nestor had taken the day of his wedding, of you and Miguel connected by the lips in the middle of the dancefloor.

It was Miguel’s favorite picture.

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

Thanks for reading!

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @charlylama @realduckvader @teacuplotus @whovianayesha @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92 @the-blind-assassin-12 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia

Taglist: @glimmerglittergirl @cococruz-mayansmc

#miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galino #200 prompts drabble

348 notes · View notes

witchfall · 4 years

Note

"it's harder than you think, telling dreams from one another"

Wow it only took me 500 years to get to this. Think this was supposed to be a ‘what kind of fic would you write from this’ ask and instead I just wrote a drabble! Thank u ariel

Crystal Exarch x WoL (my WoL, Izzie).

—-

G'raha washes one of the lacerations on her arm. Her skin is colder than he remembers, but he does not know if the thought springs from himself or the ghost that haunts him now. Another him, from another time. Eons old and dressed like an Allagan priest.

Somehow with memories of loving her entire, an act he was too cowardly to do once upon a time.

“What did you dream of? In the tower?” she asks him. Her voice is raspy and broken.

He finds looking upon her beaten face difficult. He is a glass, shaking from vibrato, at the edge of shattering.

“Not very much,” he admits. “It is…difficult to parse, what with you exploding the world as you do.”

He tries levity. He doesn’t look at her face to see if it worked.

“I saw Da,” she says softly. “And…many other people, and I thought perhaps I saw you – and it wouldn’t have been worth it if –”

“It would have.”

He smells the zing of iron, the sour headiness of ceruleum and powder, the sickening sweetness of dead flesh. She is splayed across the cold ground, the pounded dirt slick with crystal aether and blood, and his knees give out, by the Twelve, by the sinner’s light, by all the gods in the heavens, Izzie, please don’t let another door be closed.

She grunts. “Dunno.”

He rubs her laceration just a bit too tightly, and they both wince.

“Sorry,” they both say at once.

He holds her arm in his hands, trying to find the words before they all scuttle away like dust. He can feel her staring at him, heavy and cold.

“You’re everything to me,” he says, and it still feels like not enough.

Her gaze chills further.

“You’ve never had to live with that,” she says. “The other one gone forever.”

His memories stretch like nylon, and suddenly he has lived 100 years without her on the single hope that he will see her face and ensure the survival of an entire star – and her own. Both versions of him – young and old – know the kernel of truth in the noble story he tells himself.

The chance to make a bygone mistake matter, if only for a moment.

“Not like you have, no,” he says.

He relinquishes his rag. He reaches instead for her, gently prying her fingers from her tautly gripped blanket until he can cradle her hand in his palm and press a kiss into her dry, cold skin. He meets her eyes and is startled by the youth looking back at him.

She is 19 again and afraid and angry with him. She is the here and now, tired and forlorn.

“You really dreamed of nothing?” she asks.

He smiles against her, if only to check the bizarre tears boiling in the corners of his eyes. “Flashes. Regrets. The last time I saw your face, over and over. Reliving it, doing it better. It is harder than you think, telling dreams from one another, and I…was never quite sure if I had been sent back in time to make another choice or if I was just wishing it to be so.”

She squints. “That’s annoying.”

A laugh sputters out. He feels pushed down to the dirt, but not in a bad way. “I suppose it would seem a sad existence, yes. It was. For thinking I was not built for waiting, I have done my share of it.”

Her eyes crinkle. “So is this a dream?”

He focuses on the feel of her skin against his mouth. “I cannot be trusted.”

“Maybe I can’t be neither.”

He watches her. Bruises darken both her eyes. The side of her face looks as if it had been scraped against stone and blood still cakes her nostrils. Her red hair is washed but sticks to her sweaty forehead. She is broken and bloodied against the fine linens of House Fortemps – and still she gazes upon him with deep, warm love.

If a dream, one he perhaps he will linger in as long as he is able.

He places a hand against her cheek and a gentle kiss to her cracked lips. Her tears reach his fingertips. He feels his own face grow warm and wet.

“I’m really here,” he says. “And so are you.”

Not such a bad thing to believe in, at any rate.

#ffxiv #crystal exarch #crystal exarch x wol #ffxiv drabble #kathryn writes #g'raha tia #shadowbringers spoilers #otp: upon an eternal wind

20 notes · View notes

unfortunate-stranger-losers · 4 years

Photo

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Forty-Seven - The Slippery Slope

Beatrice started stirring when the car was taking off.

She heard some voices, though it took her quite some time to process what was even being said. Something about a fire, something about “lions…” was she supposed to get up and feed the lions? Surely it was Bertrand’s day to do morning checkins… wasn’t it? When had she seen her lions last?

“Shouldn’t we put them in the caravan?”

“We don’t have time to clear it, you imbecile! We can’t let them find anything useful in it.”

She felt dizzy, and for a period of five seconds she wondered if she was going to puke. She managed to hold it, though, and she realized that she was curled up very tightly. Something was atop her now- had it been there a while or just been placed?- and suddenly there was a slam, though more muffled noises. “Going… headquarters… before… here somewhere…”

She almost dozed off quite a few times, but eventually she felt a jolt underneath her, and suddenly movement, a rocky movement. She realized there was something sharp pressing into her side, but not sharp like a weapon, more like the edge of a box or chest. And there was something sliding under her leg- a blanket, or a coat?

By the time Beatrice processed things, her mind clearing up, they had been driving for quite some time. She eventually moved a little, and heard a small yelp.

“Quigley?”

She tried to blink open her eyes, but it was pretty much useless, she couldn’t see anything in front of her.

A snuffle, a shuffle- movement on top of her. Was Quigley laying on her stomach? No- no that was his foot, he was laying on top of-

“Bertrand?”

“I’m here.” she heard Bertrand say, though everything was so muffled she could barely hear him. “Quigley, are you okay?”

“I-” Quigley choked on his words.

“Quigley, are-”

“No! No, I’m not okay!” he burst. Beatrice’s heart broke as she heard him start to weep. “I’m not okay, none of this is okay!”

“I know.” she heard Bertrand say. “I know, and we’re so sorry.”

Quigley started crying harder, and Beatrice could feel him shaking. “I- I can’t do this. I can’t do this, they- they won’t stop, they won’t stop, I- I just want to get out, I just want them to leave me alone…”

“Quigley, we can get out of here.” Bertrand said. “Just stay calm. Where are we? It feels… very small.”

As Quigley shuddered, Beatrice shut her eyes and let her senses take over. She could feel that blanket beneath her, and something cold- metal. Quigley was partially on top of her, and she could feel something press against her on both ends- that box, and… oh, that must be Bertrand, she could feel him breathing now.

“We-we’re in his trunk. The car trunk. U-usually they put me in the backseat but they were rushing. That’s- that’s probably why you’re awake, they probably forgot to inject you again…”

“That sounds likely.” Beatrice shivered. “Quigley, what happened? Do you know?”

“I- I don’t know much. I was in this booth? Near this broken rollercoaster, but I kept hearing weird things. Like… animals? Lions? Lots of roaring. Digging. I heard- just before we left, I heard screaming, this awful screaming, and… and then so many people were shouting and it got really hot and I could see smoke and…” he trembled again, and Beatrice tried to reach to touch him, but the space was too cramped to allow her to move her arms. “I was so scared. I was… I’m still not- I don’t know if I was scared they’d leave me or they’d come get me. But- but they did, the- the nice one, the one with hooks, he cut my ropes and took me here and I was just- I was so scared but O-Olaf just told me to be quiet and shoved me in here and shut the lid and it’s so dark and small and I can barely breathe and I want to be literally anywhere else right now…”

“I know. We’re so sorry.” Bertrand said.

Beatrice tried to concentrate. “Quigley, are you tied up?”

“N-no, they didn’t have time- the Hook-Handed Man couldn’t get the rope untied, that’s why he cut it, just told me to behave and-”

Beatrice squirmed slightly, flexing her wrists. “I don’t think we’re tied either.”

“But there’s not much we can do in a trunk.” Bertrand muttered.

Beatrice considered, and then said, “Quigley, can you see anything?”

“I- a little? There’s a bit of a light coming from the lock, but… it won’t move, I-”

“What kind of lock is it?”

“I don’t know!”

“Don’t freak out. Just reach over and describe it to me.”

Quigley adjusted slightly, and though he accidentally kicked her in the chest, she could feel him relax slightly; now he had something to do, he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. He started talking, describing as best he could, and Beatrice held still as she felt Bertrand shift against her. While neither of them were inventors quite like their Violet, Bertrand had a bit more of a mechanical mind than she, and thus he was a bit better at lockpicking.

“Quigley, you might be able to pick the lock.” he said. “You’d just need a loop of strong twine. Do you know what else is in here?”

“N-no… I see a box, but I think that’s wine, and there’s a bag you’re laying on, Bertrand-”

“See if you can slide it out from under me. There could be something in there. If all else fails, we’ll break my glasses and see if we can use a shard, but I don’t think that’ll work well.”

“Probably won’t, dear.”

Quigley moved again, squirming through the cramped space, and Beatrice heard shuffling and tugging as he tried to slide the bag out from under Bertrand’s head. “S-sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry, just get the bag.”

Quigley nodded and after a few panicked minutes, he managed to yank it back, and Beatrice felt his foot kick her in the chest. “Oh! Sorry!”

“It’s okay.” she breathed. “Just open it. Use the light from the lock to search it.”

Quigley managed to edge the bag to the side enough to open it. “Costumes. Lots of costumes.”

“VFD disguise kit.” Bertrand said. “Beatrice, what could be useful in there?”

Beatrice considered; as a former actress, she’d had that kit memorized since she was younger than Quigley. “See if you can find a monocle.”

Another few minutes of silence as Quigley dug through, and then, “I think I- I think I found one!”

“Good! Good job!” Beatrice said. “Now, slip the cord around the lock of the trunk. You should be able to wriggle it around enough to open it.”

“Are you sure? What if they-”

Beatrice listened, and then backed up slightly, though the edge of the box poked more into her side. She was almost against a wall, and she could hear a faint conversation. “Yes. They’re driving, and talking, they won’t notice. See if you can get it open and tell us what’s outside.”

Quigley slid the back back onto her stomach, and then started maneuvering the monocle cord. They fell silent, waiting, and after a few moments, there was a pop, and a hiss, and the trunk slid open. Quigley jumped, grabbing the handle and holding it down so that nobody in the cat noticed the trunk opening, and then he peered through the crack, starting to shake as gusts of wind burst in, slamming into him.

“Are you okay?” Bertrand asked. “And what’s outside?”

“I- there’s a rope. Attached to a… a caravan. Like from a carnival- I think we were at a carnival.” Quigley shivered. “I- I don’t know if there’s anyone inside, though-”

“Is there a window?”

“Yes, and a door- it’s swinging open and shut, whoever was in it last never closed it. Hence why I think nobody’s there.”

“Is the window near us?”

“Yeah.”

“Take something from the costume bed and throw it at or through the window. See if you can. Do you think you can?”

“I- I don’t know. My- my dominant hand is- that’s the arm that got-”

“Just throw as much as you can until you hit it.”

Quigley nodded, and then slid the trunk more open. Beatrice squinted as much more light suddenly hit her, and the wind chilled her in her torn, loose clothing. Quigley hesitated a second, waiting to see if anyone in the car noticed, and then he reach into the bag, pulling out some kind of amulet. He tossed it, and it landed just beneath the window, skittering to a ledge around the edge of the caravan’s bottom and holding there precariously. He bit his lip and pulled out what looked like half of a pegleg, and then he tossed.

The crash was lost in the other sounds going on- the wind, the car, the rocks under the tires, some kind of birds crying in the distance, but the pegleg smashed through the window and landed inside. Quigley stood still, waiting a moment, before saying, “Nobody’s looking. I don’t think anyone’s there.”

“Okay. How far away is it?”

“P-pretty far. It’s only connected by a rope.”

“How thick is the rope?”

“I don’t know?”

“Is it thicker than your fist?”

“I- I think?”

Bertrand hesitated, before saying, “You can crawl across it.”

“What?”

“You're a good climber, just use that. Crawl across the rope and get to the caravan, and get inside.”

“What?”

“If there’s nobody there, we can break in, cut the rope, and find a way to escape.”

“I- I don’t know if I can- we’re moving so fast- I-”

“Quigley.” Beatrice shut her eyes. “Quigley, I know it’s scary. But you have to do the scary thing first and get scared later. This may be our only way out and we can’t- we can’t let them have you any longer. Go across, Bertrand and I will follow. We promise.”

Quigley shook, and then said, “Okay. Okay.” he shut his eyes, and managed to reach out of the trunk, gripping a thick rope with both hands. The car jolted around a turn, and he screamed into his arm, tears springing to his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, we promise.” Bertrand said. “Quigley, we’re going to protect you.”

Quigley nodded, and then looked up, blinked away his tears, and started muttering a soft song under his breath.

“Twas brillig and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe…”

He slowly pulled himself farther, reaching farther down the rope and ignoring the pains in his arms and the rocking of the car and the wind forcing itself against him.

“All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe…”

Beatrice held her breath as he reached father, steeled himself, and then moved his legs around the rope. For a moment, it looked like he’d fall, but he managed to cling to the rope just enough to hold a shaky balance. He crept a bit farther, and then, with relief, he started to mutter more, and though the words were lost in the wind, Beatrice knew what he was saying.

“Beware the Jabberwock my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch… Beware the jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch…”

She heard Bertrand slide up to a sitting position, and he said, “You go next-”

“No.” she shook her head, almost banging it against the trunk’s wall. “You’re closer. I’d have to climb over you. Just go.”

“Bea-”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

He moved a hand over her ankle, and she flinched. The pain from the hospital was still… well, excruciating, honestly.

“Will you be able to?”

“I’ll be okay.” she promised. “We’re former Volunteers, love, a simple rope climb will be child’s play.”

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead, one both of them wished could last longer. Then he turned, once again seeing Quigley, now almost to the edge of the rope. He was reciting much faster, trying to move faster, the fear clearly getting to him. He almost slipped once or twice, and both times Bertrand froze over and put his hands on the edge of the car, prepared to jump and try to grab him if that should happen. But finally, Quigley edged to the caravan’s wall, and he shakily gripped the window ledge, trying to avoid the broken glass fragments and pulling himself upright. He shakily remained there a moment, before edging along towards the door, gripping first to the ledge and then to a chip on the corner, trying to make it as best he could. Finally, he swung himself, and they lost sight of him for a minute, until they saw him crawl up to the window, gesturing for them to come on, relief in his eyes.

Bertrand smiled at Beatrice, and then made his own way to the rope, She knew he’d be fine; they’d done many things like this before, whether they wanted to or not. When he was out of the trunk, she slid herself to the edge, taking a few seconds just to breathe in a less confined space, before she pushed herself up, grabbing the edge of the trunk and pulling herself up. As expected, Bertrand had basically reached the caravan by then, and she watched as he pulled himself up to the window and crawled along the edge to the door. Once he swung inside, she steadied herself, taking a deep breath. Her foot hurt like hell, yeah, but she could probably move on one… probably…

She reached out a hand to grab the rope, and then screamed.

A knife had come swinging at her, curving from the front of the car, and landed in the back of her hand. She heard Bertrand scream her name, but she instead pulled herself up and turned, meeting eyes with Esme, leaning out of the shotgun seat and looking absolutely furious.

She shouted something to Olaf, and Beatrice knew there wasn’t hope now. Her hand was starting to throb and bleed, and surely Olaf would stop the car and… and…

She looked across, to see Quigley reaching an arm through the window, as if he could hope to reach her from there. Bertrand, meanwhile, was leaning out the door- no.

He was going to try to get her. He couldn’t. There wouldn’t be time, and then they and Quigley would be right back where they started…

She wasn’t about to let that happen.

She took a deep breath, and then gave him a rueful smile. Though she knew he couldn’t hear, she whispered, “Take care of them.”

Then, before Olaf’s car could even slow, she yanked the knife out of her own hand and sliced it across the rope, before watching the caravan tumble down the mountain.

#asoue #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #runaway baudelaires au #asoue fanfiction #the slippery slope #mine #my fanfic

6 notes · View notes

kaiyeti · 5 years

Note

Here's a story that I think is good for this type of month. Can u make a story where Tsu and the gang goes to rescue Izuku from the villains but at soon as they reach the villains base they find Izuku but it's too late. Damage has been done. Now they are starring at a Nomufied Izuku.

I am glad someone asked this because we Know Nomu the people that couldn’t handle All For One giving them more then one quirk, Hence the go brain dead, or in vbnha full on homunculus. But that’s the thing isn’t it. You get turned into a Nomu if your body can’t take it or you being like Gigantomachia, just badassness. And Izuku thanks to One for All, have seven quirks. Lets find out what happens when the villains and doc learn about this.

Villain: DAH! *THUD!* Damn you little brats! *The Villain growled before a tongue wraps around them and slam them into the walls before draging them closer.*

Tsuyu: I am only going to ask this once. *Tsuyu said coldly as she lifted the villain to eye level with her.* Where. Is. Izuku-kun?

Villain: And why would I tell you? It’s not like you can make me. *The Villain smirked before two hands grab each side of their face, one in a large green gauntlet and the other with small flames.

Shoto: She may not. But we can.

Bakugo: And quite honestly, am going too. NOW WHERE THE FUCK IS DEKU!?

Villain: *The villain gulp in fear be still had their smile.* D-Deku? Hehe, Well It don’t matter if I tell you. The doc is already working on him.

Tsuyu: The doc?

Idia: How is this doctor you are talking about?

Villain: The Doc is the boss’ guy who makes the nomu. He was very interested on getting that kid for so-GAUH! *the Villain suddenly croaked as Tsuyu’s tongue wrapped around their neck tighten before she grabbed their collar.*

Tsuyu: WHERE IS HE!? TAKE US TO HIM RIGHT NOW OR HELP ME_ *Tsuyu shouted in rage shocking everyone since it was the first time they have seen her anger. when Hitoshi placed a hand on her shoulder.*

Hitoshi: Asui! Stop! they can’t lead us to Midoriya if you make them pass out!

Tsuyu: I’d do a lot more than that if-

Hitoshi: We get it! You are worried about Midoriya. We all are but you have to calm down. Let me handle this. *he told the frog heroie who looked at him before nodding and letting the villain fall to the ground.* Can you walk?

Villain: Of course I can walk! Shouldn’t you heroes ask... if... I’m... *The Villain shouted before trailing off with dull eyes.*

Hitoshi: Good Now take us to this doctor. *Hitoshi ordered with his quirk as the Villain got up and started walking to their base with the group of hero founding behind.*

Bakugo: *Leans over to Tsuyu.* You should get mad more frog face. Makes you much more likable. *Tsuyu narrows her eys at him before slapping him in the face with her tongue.* OW! WHAT THE FUCK!?

Tsuyu: I am I still likable because I am still upset with how you treat Izuku. Kero.

~Villain’s base~

Idia: Alright everyone. Remember, we are only here to rescue Midoriya. We leave the capture of the villains to the pros when they arrive. Who are do doing on that Yaoyorozu?

Momo: The Pros should be here in ten minute.

Eijiro: this isn’t leaving us a lot of time to find Midoriya.

Bakugo: How hard can it be? Its a children’s doctors office. Pinky can just melt the locks once Earlo-

Jiro: There is a huge underground basement. *Jiro frowned, interrupting the explosive hero, earjack in the ground.* And from the sound of it... Whoa. Whoa!

Tsuyu: What!? What’s Wrong!? *tsuyu panicked as the rest of the students looked worried as the spy heroine Whipped her head towards them.*

Jiro: I-I don’t Know! but whatever is going on down there it!... It!

Tsuyu: WHAT KYOKA!? IS IT IZUKU!? IS HE OKAY!? *Tsuyu yelled with fear.*

Jiro: *suddenly Jiro Jumped back, yanking her earjack from the ground and became as pale as a ghost.* HOLY SHIT! IT SOUNDS LIKE A FUCKING SLAUGHTER DOWN THERE!

Bakugo: *This in turn made everyone else grow pale as well become Bakugo turned to Kirishima.* SHITHAIR KNOCK DOWN THE FUC-* SHATTER!

Tsuyu: *Everyone turned to find Tsuyu retracting her tongue after throwing a brench through the window and charging in hoopping from wall to wall before anyone could stop her. It wasn’t long into the search when Tsuyu found an opened hidden doorway in on what she assumed was the doctor’s office and without hesitation jumped down the long downward hallway skipping all the stairs.* IZUKU! IZUKU WHERE ARE YOU!? *Tsuyu shouted, desperately calling out hopping through the dark hallways, looking in each room she passed only to see horrific creatures. With Fear and worry building every moment Tsuyu barely managed to stop herself when turning one corner to come face to face with a black nomu.* NO! NOT NOW! *Tsuyu thought to herself taking her fighting stance, knowing she wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight with one of these high-end Nomu. That is until she notice it wasn’t moving and was in fact leaning against the wall.* K-Kero? *She croaked, squinting her eyes for a better look only for them to widen in horror while she covered her mouth. For the feared Highend Nomu was not leaning against the wall but embedded into it, it large body mangled and head missing.* WH-What could have done this? Was this... Izuku? *Tsuyu said to herself when green flashes of light came from the other end of the hall. The young hero turned and quickly yet cautiously rushed down the hall to the source of the light and entered the room dimly lit room. Once in she gasped again as the large room looked as if it was a war zone. Breaking glass and tubs laced the wet blood and unknown liquid flood.* Wha? *This was all that could could leave Tsuyu’s lip when another green flash filled the room causing the rainy season hero to whip her head around to find the source and when her eye landed upon it her heart drop. There, in the center of the room above a pile of torn apart highend nomu was the love of her life, Izuku, looking in extreme pain and... floating?* I-Izuku? *She whisper taking a step forward, her feet crunching the glass.*

Izuku: *At the moment the fetal postioned hero whipped his head up and towards his love showing her now green glowing eyes, the white of them turned a darker shade of green and red vein-like markings around them.* T-Tsu...Y-yu? *he said almost whimpering, his now twice as muscular body shaking.*

Tsuyu: Yes Izuku. It’s me. Kero. Me and the others are here to rescue you. *Tsuyu told him with a weak smile taking another step forward but quickly pushed back as Izuku shouts.*

Izuku: NO! STAY BACK! *His voice boomed as everything around him was pushed away and whatever was beneath him crushed, However, from the dead bodies of the nomu something rose and was sucked into Izuku’s body causing him to groan in pain before he looked back towards Tsuyu with tears in his eye.* Pl-Please! Stay back!... I don’t! *Sniff* I don’t want you to get hurt!

Ujiko: Ha ha HaCOUGH! COUGH!... Remarkable, isn’t he? *Tsuyu behind from behind her and turned to find a bald man in a labcoat sitting on the floor leaning against a destroyed computer, a large cute on his head and missing an arm.* I knew that moment I met this young man that he was the key to my goals of perfection.

Tsuyu: You’re the doctor I presume? the one who created the Nomu for the League of Villains? *Tsuyu questioned, glaring at the man as she marched over to him and lifted his up to his feet and slamming his against the broken screen of his computer.* What did you do to him!? What the HELL did you do to Izuku you MONSTER!? *Tsuyu yelled, demanding answers from the doctor when a large hand grabbed her.* KERO!? *Tsuyu looked up to find the monstrous villain Gigantomachia staring down at her.*

Giganto: Do not touch the Master’s doctor small frog, please. *He said to the green haired girl. Tsuyu gulping at the size of the massive villain but realizing he was covered in bruises.*

Izuku: DON’T TOUCH HER! PUT HER DOWN! *Izuku shouted with another booming force as well as a giant black tendril lashing out from his body straight at the giant villain blocking the attack with his other arm as he set Tsuyu back before he was slammed into the wall.*

Tsuyu: Wha? What is going on? *Tsuyu Mutter looking as the massive Villain the took down every pro hero they fought him pulling himself out of the wall groaning in pain and back as her boyfriend was the tendril retracted, seemly having a force field around it like Izuku. The only reason she noticing it from the fact that for a moment she watched her large frog hands shrink to the size of a normal hand before returning to normal. Still in thought the others arrived and were shock at the site before them all staring at Izuku before Mina and Eijiro looked over to Tsuyu and noticed the giant Villain.*

Eijiro: WHat the! Isn’t that the big guy from middle school!?

Mina: Holy crap it is! What the hell is he doing here?

Bakugo: Forget him! WHat the fuck is wrong Deku? And Why is our doctor when we were kids here!? *Bakugo shouted pointing at Ujiko.*

Izuku: E-Everyone! Stay!... GRRR! STAND BACK! *Izuku growled*

Ujiko: Hehe, A loud mouth as always. Its a shame your parents switched doctors before my master could take your quirk. *The old man as he pulled a need from his pocket and injected his stomp of an arm, the bloody limb bubbling before a new arm grew.* Much better. Now then. *the doctor looked down at Tsuyu and smiled.* To answer all of your questions, Yes. I am the doctor whom not only created the nomu for All for One but treated his injuries as well as look after both of his successor and prodigy. As for what I did to your boyfriend I simply did as I was instructed by my master.

Tsuyu: And What did Shigaraki tell you to do to Izuku? *Tsuyu asked giving a worried glance to her love, her heart breaking seeing him in pain.*

Ujiko: *To everyone’s surprise the doctor started laugh.* Hahahahaha! Silly Girl! I may be working for my the foolish young man but he is not nor will ever be my master. No My master is the great All for One And it is he who gave me his permission.

Tsuyu: Premission for what?! To Try and make Izuku into one of your monster!?

Ujiko: No Young lady. *Ujiko smiled again look up at the green one for all hero.* To give back what we took from him. Although it appears thanks to One for All it has quite the upgrade.

Tsuyu: *Tsuyus’ eyes widen, she knew that Izuku was quirkless until ALL might gave him his quirk but if what this mad doctor was telling the truth then she could only wonder.* K-kero? WHat do you mean... what you took from him?

Bakugo: Oh screw this! Lets Grab Deku’s dumb ass and go! *Bakugo shouts and rockets towards Izuku with Gigantomachia quickly swinging at him.*

Giganto: DO NOT TOUCH THE MASTER’S PRODIGY! *The villain roared ready to smash the explosive hero but before his hand could connect a ice spike hit his arm as well as acid and a cannon. This allowed Bakugo to get pass the villain and reach Izuku. Unfortunately, there is a price for the moment Bakugo touched the force field around Izuku he wasn’t only stopped but the explosions from his hands stopped as well. Just as Izuku’s palms started to unleash massive one.*

Izuku: AAAAAH! I TOLD YOU STAY BACK! *Izuku yelled as he is launches opposed of where his hands are pointed.*

Momo: Wha-WHat? WHat just happened?

Hitoshi: Did... Did Izuku just take Bakugo’s quirk?

Uijiko: Tell me. What do you thing would happen if you combined the quirk All for One and telekinesis? Then combine that quirk with a stoke pile quirk that his been building for over a hundred years? The answer, Perfection.

Tsuyu: All for one and Telekinesis? Master’s Prodigy? Give back what we took? *Tsuyu muttered as realization washes over her. She turned to the doctor.* Your master... All for One... What is his real name?

Uijiko: *Uijiko looked at the young hero and simply said.* Shigaraki Hisashi. Though after his marriage and taking his wife surname. Midoriya Hisashi. Midoriya Izuku is The greatest villain’s son.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #midotsu #midotsuyu #izuku midoriya #tsuyu x izuku #izutsu #dekukero #tsuyu asui #bnha #mha #FROPPY #deku

30 notes · View notes

sladedick · 5 years

Note

im just creepin on your twitter (as you do) and i wondering if u would ever write some rastim? bc 👀👀

yes!!!!! sorry this too k so long i love ra’stim owo

noncon/underage/switching/violence/black humor | on ao3

Timothy Drake stares at his American school lunch in the fuzzy security camera. His dark circles are visible under his eyes even from this height, and his hair is visibly unwashed. Equations trail their way up pale arms in smudged ink. He shovels another soggy french fry into his mouth, scratching his armpit with the other hand.

“Are you sure you want that one, Master?” Ra’s’s assistant inquires, standing meekly next to him as he watches the screen.

“You dare question the will of the Demon?” Ra’s booms.

“N-no, master, of course not,” he mutters, looking down. Ra’s turns his attention back to Timothy. He’s facedown in his applesauce, clearly snoring.

“He’s perfect.”

Share the happy news with your detective

“Happy engagement,” Ra’s says. Tim blinks at him.

“To who?”

“To you.”

“I’m not engaged,” he says blankly.

“I am pleased to inform you that you are. To me, the Demon’s Head.”

“No,” Tim declares.

“Yes.” Ra’s’s grin shows teeth.

“No!”

“This is not a discussion,” Ra’s says. “It is the respectful thing to do before I deflower you, Detective.”

Tim makes a disgusted face. “You won’t be ‘deflowering’ me. I had sex with Superboy.” It had been an ordeal. Kon’s Kryptonian dick had gained semi-sentience and tried to lay its eggs in Tim. Turns out Clark hadn’t bothered to give him ‘the talk’.

Ra’s’s lip curls. “How inappropriate.”

“No premarital sex, huh, but rape is a-okay,” Tim mocks.

“Victor’s rights, Timothy.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tim says. Ra’s wags a finger in his face.

“Language, Detective.”

Tim sticks his tongue out. “You can’t marry minors without parental consent. Your marriage is null and void. Ra’s! Ra’s, listen to me, we have to be in Alabama—”

Keep excessive amounts of alcohol away from your detective

The reception is ostentatious, of course.

Ra’s first notices the problem when Tim’s step is slightly halting at the reception, cheeks slightly redder—always red, really, given how pale his skin is even for a European. They’re even red through the several layers of makeup that Ra’s had his servants apply.

Tim gives a lopsided grin, showing off teeth that, until recently, had had braces on them. That’s the second sign something is off. Timothy has been pouting ever since he was kidnapped.

“I want — some more campaign,” he says, quite sincerely. A face, as if he knows that’s not quite right. “Clam pain.” A pause. “Sham veins?”

“Champaign, dear,” Ra’s says softly. Timothy grabs another glass from a passing server before Ra’s can stop it. The reception is ostentatious, and Timothy’s dress is no exception, in lacy whites and pale greens, showing off his body just enough to tell everyone what Ra’s has that they don’t. And how they should be jealous of Ra’s’s high school concubine.

“It’s poor taste to be drunk at your own reception,” Ra’s says.

“Your … fault,” Tim says. He sways slightly. Ra’s catches his arm. “Kidnapped me. Miss my family.”

“You’ll make a new one quite soon.”

“Fuck you. Hate you,” he mumbles. “Don’t wanna get pregnanant. Pregant. Prenengant.”

Ra’s snatches the glass of champagne from Timothy’s hand as the boy slumps slightly against him.

“I insist,” he says coldly, angrily, “that you be conscious for the consummation.”

He takes some pleasure in seeing Timothy’s skin lose its redness for the first time that night, falling away to reveal a pale face. Timothy grabs desperately for the alcohol, but Ra’s whisks it away just in time.

“Absolutely not.”

2. Keep your detective well entertained

“You can’t all be monks,” Tim tries to explain. The ninja sat in a circle around him squint at him through the eyeholes in their masks, heavy armor clinking as they shift. Tim repeats it in Arabic for the two that don’t speak English, and then switches to it for good.

“I wish to be of the shadow subclass,” Ninja No. 3 says.

“As do I,” adds Ninja No. 1.

“The point of Dungeons and Dragons is to be something you’re not. It’s escapism.” The four guards, practically brainwashed into the service of Ra’s al Ghul, stare at him. “Nobody is allowed to be a ninja monk.”

“I will be a warlock,” says Ninja No. 2, waving about the bit of paper that Tim had given him, translated from what Tim remembers of the Player’s Guide. “In service of the great Head of the Demon—”

“This is a fantastical universe. Ra’s doesn’t exist. See? Escapism!” Tim sighs. “If you don’t cooperate I’m going to tell him you were very inadequate and suggest severe punishment.” He stares sternly.

The ninja pale. Tim wouldn’t do that, really, because then they would end up dead. He knows exactly how much influence he has with Ra’s. The threat, however, is still good.

“I will be a fighter,” sighs Ninja No. 2. “In the service of nobody.”

“Perfect!” Tim grins. He feels like he should patronizingly pat their heads, but refrains. That’s the kind of thing they might only accept from Ra’s.

“I will be a sorcerer,” says Ninja No. 4, “who works for only himself, and wields fantastic power.”

Tim nods enthusiastically.

“I will be a rogue,” says Ninja No. 1, “who overthrows his glorious leader and takes his place, murdering his kin and raping his wife—”

“Wait just a second—”

“—and sending all his castles and being to endless ruin, in search of individuality.”

“I mean,” Tim says, “I’ll allow it …”

(Ninja No. 1 doesn’t show up the next week. Neither do any of the others. It wasn’t your fault, Ra’s assures him, though please do not encourage individuality, Timothy.)

3. Be assured your detective is sexually satisfied and interested

Tim sits on one side of the wooden table, idly tracing the patterned texture with one

finger. Ra’s sits stiff and regal as always, a few slips of paper right in front of him. This is obviously a Meeting. Ra’s is always around Tim, but a Meeting is different. Ra’s has something to talk about, and Tim probably doesn’t want to hear it.

“Beloved,” Ra’s says.

“Ra’s,” Tim replies. His voice is considerably cold. More tired.

“I’ve been doing some research,” Ra’s says. “You have been quite uninterested in our sexual activity.”

“It’s because I object to the rape,” Tim says.

“Ah, I think not. I think you’re simply not … stimulated enough. So I found out what you might be interested in.”

“Please don’t—”

The papers are slapped onto the table like a death warrant, and Tim is stared in the face by his last six months of search history.

man turns little brother gay big dick blowjob looks back at him like the antichrist with flaming, doomed eyes. Tim pales. He tries to think of exactly what he’d been searching on PornHero before Ra’s had caught up with him, but his mind is suddenly completely blank.

bears rail twink anal dp rimming glares accusingly at him. Tim knows that Ra’s has a perfectly neutral expression on his face. He always does. But Tim can’t force himself to meet the green eyes, not even on the pain of losing some of his pride.

“And some more enlightening content,” Ra’s adds, putting another piece of paper on the table. Tim can barely bring himself to open his eyes and look.

batman fucks robin hard in the ass, batman and robin blowjob, batmanxrobin—

Tim covers his eyes. He can’t take it.

“You’re particularly understimulated in the bedroom. Would you prefer that I don a suit in the manner of your adopted father? Would you enjoy referring to me as—”

“No!” Tim almost screams. He wants to cover his ears. “Ra’s, please. Please don’t, okay? I’ll be good, okay? I’ll pretend I like getting fucked. Just please stop.”

Ra’s makes a little humming sound. “This is not a punishment, Beloved. I am simply curious.” The rustling sound of papers lets him know what’s going on. “Though perhaps you can explain this? Superboy x reader fluffy love fanfiction?”

Tim turns white.

“I’m going to kill myself,” he declares, and he’s not sure if he’s joking or not.

4. Install safety bars on windows; learn modern youth jargon

“I’m going to kill myself,” Timothy says.

It’s something he says a lot. Quite a bit, really, typically any time something goes even a little wrong. Timothy had explained to him, a sullen glare in his eyes, that it was a joke. Ra’s had eventually been persuaded.

The fact that Timothy is crouched on the window ledge, the mountain wind making long-grown dark hair—tended to with the most expensive shampoos—swirl out behind Timothy, makes the thought of him joking much less likely.

“That is a choice you will regret,” Ra’s says coolly. He could try to grab him, but Timothy would fall out of the window and die anyways. Then when it came time to punish him properly, Timothy could attempt to childishly shift the blame.

Timothy flips him off.

Ra’s raises an eyebrow. “How rude, Beloved.”

“Yeet,” Timothy says. Ra’s assumes this also means I’m going to kill myself because right after Timothy does it, he’s falling through the air. Ra’s doesn’t hear the crack of his bones or see the blood spatter, but he sees the broken body splayed in the snow below, certainly dead.

“How inconvenient,” Ra’s says, to nobody in particular. Except, perhaps, the three guards who monitor Timothy at all times. He makes a mental note to have them executed.

6. Discourage your detective from staging coups

“Fuck,” Tim says.

“Indeed.” Ra’s’s teeth are perfect, pearly white. A wickedly curved sword at his side slowly drips blood into the oceans pooled around his feet, the corpses’ blood eking its way towards Tim’s booted feet.

Tim stomps. Blood splashes, staining the bottom of his robes. “Fuck!”

Ra’s sheathes his sword. The front of his shirt is crimson, showing that he, at least, did not escape unscathed. Tim draws some small satisfaction from that, even though he feels the guards still loyal to Ra’s grab at his shoulders, yanking his arms behind his back and holding him still.

“A valiant attempt, Detective,” Ra’s says. “Next time, I suggest purging your dissenters’ ranks for spies more carefully.” He moves forward, and Tim sags slightly in the arms of the guards.

“I’m sorry?” Tim offers.

“You’re not.”

Tim sticks his tongue out.

7. Properly reprimand your detective

“I’m sorry,” Tim whimpers, head hanging between his shoulders as he stares down at the bed beneath him, fingers curled in the sheets, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

A hand cards gently through sweaty hair. “Shh, Timothy, it will be over soon,” Ra’s murmurs. The back of the boy’s thighs and buttocks are covered in red switch marks, from the birch thing that Ra’s holds in the hand that does not hold Timothy. The skin burns red and pink and parts bleed. Timothy won’t be able to sit down for a month without remembering this.

The next one whips down with a wicked noise. Timothy chokes, spasms, arms shaking. He gasps, tears clinging to his long, pretty lashes like pearls.

“You are free to cry if you like, Beloved,” Ra’s says softly. “Forty out of fifty. You’re almost finished.”

8. Curb attempts to relate to the youth

Ra’s throws his sword. It impales the man through the gut; a wound that will leave him squirming for hours in agony before he finally expires.

“Yeet.”

(Timothy doesn’t speak to him for a week.)

9. Keep track of possessions around your detective

“Is that my cape, Detective?”

Tim wraps the green folds further around himself, his small form almost disappearing inside of it. “Maybe.”

“Are you going to return it?”

The high collar hides Timothy’s face, and slightly muffles his answer. “No.”

10. Take very good care of your detective, and give it nobody else to turn to when it hurts

Timothy’s eyes are wide, blank oceans, full of a sort of pain and sadness that Ra’s knows will pass, but he still almost dislikes seeing in his consort’s eyes. Ra’s’s arm is wrapped around him, fingers splaying dark hair around them, Timothy warm against his chest. His eyes are closed, the two of them wrapped in Ra’s’s cape. Before, Timothy would flinch away whenever he was to be held. Now, he almost begs to be touched with his eyes, even when he is too proud to ask.

A shift of him. Ra’s stays still, doesn’t move, enjoying the fact of Timothy against him. A hand slowly pets his hair.

Something is wet against his chest, where the neck of his shirt is cut down to reveal his chest. Ra’s almost has to pry Tim’s face off of him, and it comes away teary.

“How do you fair, my love?”

A hand rests on Ra’s’s shoulder, pale fingers against dark, tanned skin. The eyes look past Ra’s.

“I hate you,” Timothy whispers. It’s not an accusation. Simply a sad, broken confession.

“I know,” Ra’s says, almost, almost sympathetic.

A pause,

A long, long pause.

“I love you,” Tim whispers, and it’s even softer, barely audible. And then he’s diving back against Ra’s’s chest, Ra’s’s head tucked above Tim’s.

“I know,” Ra’s murmurs.

The look in his eyes is the stare of a man who has killed millions, and will kill millions more.

#Anonymous #asks #ra'stim #ra's al ghul #tim drake #fic recs #freak fic #prompts/requests

67 notes · View notes

philoseokphy · 4 years

Text

six degrees of separation ✻ lwt

louis tomlinson x reader x 18

hey! i’m the sender of this :

and the number stands for...

so since you picked number 18, i made this fic for you!

Hope you enjoy this imagines. WARNING : English is NOT my first language, so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

note : ____ means YOUR NAME

hope u like it! enjoy, and stay at home, folks!

you’ve read the books, you’ve watched the shows

what’s the best way no one knows yea

meditate, hypnotized

anything to take it from your mind

Louis stared at your statue. He objected every inch of your skin, your gorgeous hair—it captured your face well. And your tricky dazzling eyes, Louis always trapped on your gaze everytime he looked up at you. Your brown piercings always pulling him close and it managed to make Louis feel embraced and appreciated somehow.

Your skin, your nose, your lips…—Louis didn’t even know where to start. They are flawless. The way you handle them, are affecting. Like, when you feel the rush adjusting on your body, or when you feel every eyes are scanning your posture—you’ll bit your lower lip and hang your head down low. And…what a coincidence, now you were choosing a book on this quiet library, and there you go, you bit your lower lip with your iconic furrowed brows.

Louis walked casually to your sculpture. You still didn’t notice him at first because your eyes were glued to the fancy old-fashioned book. The older man furrowed his eyebrows ridiculously, “Are you serious, ____?”

“Shit!” You cursed and jumped slightly. You quickly looked at the innocent man. You groaned, “Do you always have to scare me like this, Louis?” The fingers of yours finally opened the cover first and the first thing you saw were the yellowish blemishes plastered randomly on the old paper. You took the book closer to your sense of smell and you nodded merely, “This smells nice,”

Louis threw a laugh, “That’s psychotic to do,” He commented. You rolled your eyes, “Now, what are you going to tell me?”

Louis took a deep breath, “Nothing! Well, I just saw you…” He took away the book from your hands, scanning it curiously, “Oh my, ____. I know what you are doing.”

You widened your eyes and snapped back your book, “What?” Your tone risen. He chuckled, carefully leaning back to the shelf, “The Wisdom of a Broken Heart? Really, ___? This is a classic cliché! I don’t even have to guess why you read this!” He laughed kind of making your cheeks flushed in shyness. You ignored him and turned away, sat down on the reading corner. Louis followed you to the seat and flew himself to the comfy seat, “Ah! Nice, now where were we?” He squinted at your nervous face. You rolled your eyes.

Louis smirked when he knew he stole the tongue from the pretty lips of yours. You closed the book harshly, “I read this because it’s a classic cliché! Satisfied, Mr. Tomlinson?” You asked sarcastically. It caused Louis to burst in a laugh. His eyes were squinting to formed a beautiful eye smile and the skin circling the eye were crumbling. You were mesmerized by this beautiful human, but you shoo the thoughts away. And hide those emotions onto a bored haze.

He stopped laughing. “I know what are your motives are, ____. Be careful,” He winked playfully. You rolled your pair of eyes for the third times, “Seriously, drop it now. You’re taking a long time to spill,” You smirked. He nodded excitedly, “Well. . . Zayn Malik.”

The name of the one who had your heart wrapped around his fingers, made your chest echoed with the sound of your heart clanking. It was very…magical. The feelings of him lingers and it scared you. To death.

The aura of your eyes changing was impulsive. Louis pulled his lips merely, “Listen,____. I know you are trying to put things on and off, make him go away,” He hesitated before continuing, “But your steps, from moving on, is clearly wrong. It won’t go.”

“How do you know?” You slashed his words. Challenging your eyes to met his beautiful pairs, you shrugged, “I didn’t even want to try! Louis, let it go, okay?” You pleaded. Louis shook his head.

you had the drink, you take a toke

‬‪watch the past go up in smoke‬

‪you fake a smile, ya, lie and say

‬‪you’re better now than ever and your life's okay‬

“Hey, hey, hey,…you read that,” He pointed at your book. You covered the cover with your hands. He chuckled, “And don’t tell me you didn’t watch those chick flick movies…Legally Blonde? You are really trying, ____.” He winked again. You groaned, “Stop it!” You protested.

“You’re doing all these things of desperation,” Louis calmly said, “You’re going through six degrees of separation.”

He smiled before he stood up and left you with your brows furrowed, and question mark all over your mind.

‪But it's not, no‬

—

The watch on Louis’s desk was showing 01:32 AM with its green light. Louis groaned, yelled on his heart. Who the hell knocked his door at this very early dawn? Lazily and sloppily, he walked towards his apartment door. With a mumble of cursing words and blabbered, he opened the door.

Before he got to yell at the person standing in front of the door, his energy quickly recharged. Oh My God. You with your ugly pajamas and a jacket? You with your crying face? You pushed him out of the way and slowly threw yourself on the couch. Louis is still on his shock position, still holding the knop and totally lose. “Are you okay?” Finally he said a sentence.

You shook your head, “I’m very not okay.” Your stare as blank as a new canvas. The different is, your stare was black and blank and dark. “This is the worst stage of my life,” You muttered.

first, you think the worst is a broken heart

Louis positioned himself beside you very carefully. He sighed, “What’s going on?” You let your lips pulled just an inch. Then a tear fell down to your face, hanging nicely through your chin and finally dropped to your lap. It’s the beginning of everything. Because in a second, you were bursting into a loud cry.

“Am I ugly?” You asked without hesitation. Louis flinched, “What? No!” His brows furrowed angrily. “Who said that?” He spat with upset confusion.

You chuckled sarcastically, “Then I’m stupid?” Your eyes wont stop producing the tears. Louis coughed, “Yes you are if you are crying over some nonsense like this. What happened?”

The trembling hands of yours covered your wet face, “Why he left me, Louis? Am I not good enough for him?”

Those question hit Louis like a sledgehammer. Your words, broke Louis’s heart in 99 pieces. Louis took a very deep breath. Why? Why couldn’t you see that you are this beautiful? And imagining things like you doesn’t feel comfortable in your own skin really suffocating him.

“_____, listen—“

“He’s a death of me,” You muttered under your breath. You laid your head and facing the ceiling. A sob never stop playing from your lips. “I love him way too much—I never dream this would happen. I wont let go of him.” You cried again. Now softer than before, but the effects applied the same to the man sat next to you.

And you’re the death of me,_____. Louis only had the courage to said that to himself.

what’s gonna kill you is the second part

“Louis…I just,” You hesitated. Chewing the wall inside your mouth, closed your eyes. “Why he could do such thing? He literally splitted my world in a blink of an eye!” You spat out, now your eyes were opened with anger. And disappointment. And selfishness. Louis took a deep breath, he let you to rant out and let every weight on your shoulders to fell down.

and the third, is when your world splits down the middle

When Louis heard you just controlled your breath, he pulled you closer. He placed his arm around you and tapped your side calmly, and very carefully. Like you were made of glass, he smiled, “You’re going to past this.” That is only a sentence on the surface. There’s a lot he was going to say under the surface.

—

After that night. A month has passed.

You looked so much healthier and happier, to be honest? But not in the same way as you did before.

Like everything pushed and forced you to smile, laugh, and did things casually. But actually, there’s a thunderstorms ruining your head. And you can only let it show in front of the mirror. And maybe the wet pillow of yours witnessed your mental health. And your sad songs playlist, one of the witnesses too. And don’t forget…the only breathing thing who witnessed your control of yourself. Louis. You didn’t have to show him, he saw it. Don’t know, maybe the third eye of him. The inside one, or maybe because he was your best friend…or maybe something else. Whenever you were zoomed out in a conversation, he would rubbed your hand to assure everything’s okay. That’s a little thing, means the world to you.

Louis always told you, “Don’t push yourself too hard. You are allowed to be sad, everyone understands.” And you would smile, “I am truly okay, Louis.”

And tonight, after a dinner with your group, Louis drove you home and he gave you a mini speech, “You fake everything! It’s not natural, it’s not healthy. You are allowed to be sad, once again. You don’t have to come to a gathering if you don’t want to,” Louis said as he controlled the wheel.

“Louis, I want to gather with you guys, don’t act silly,” You replied casually. Louis laughed. A sarcastic laugh, and ironically. “Please, you were there for…I don’t know? 5 minutes?”

You took a deep breath, “Fine. I’m trying. But really, I fixed myself. Nothing is a problem for me, not again.” Your fingers intertwined nervously into each other. Louis looked at you deeply, trying to connected the soft lights from his eyes to yours before saying, “You can lie to everyone, but at least be honest with yourself.”

Your breath stopped for a while. His words choked you up.

and fourth, you’re gonna think that you fixed yourself

—

And it happened again.

The difference, tonight or can I say today? 2:23 am you showed your slump body in front of Louis apartment. Again. And today’s cause was...Zayn finally dated a new woman.

Her name was Chloe, and she was so beautiful it stabbed you with a truth that everything on you had nothing on her. Her golden hair was every girl’s dream. Her shiny grey eyes were beautiful. And her body was a hourglass. She was every single soul’s crush. Including you.

And when you saw them from your social media, it hurts you because they went to every restaurant you went to with him. Did every activities like you did with him. It was almost like…he dated you, in another better posture and soul.

Her soul wasn’t a mess like yours. You smiled in irony everytime you saw Chloe. Their happiness really contagious to everyone. Not you, of course. Everyone shipped them, saying that they were perfect for each other. And it killed you again, am I not perfect for him? That’s why he broke up with me? You bit your lip. Weren’t we perfect? Right. We had tons of flaws. Actually, I’m the flaw. Your eyes were blurry.

Your thoughts, it was a monster. It swallowed every positive thing on your mind.

fifth, you see them out with someone else

“I can’t do this anymore, Louis.” You sobbed. Eyes were very swollen. And tears were a mess, Louis rubbed your back, “Relax, okay? You’ll be okay—“

“When?” You spat. Cutting his words in a second and dared to meet his eyes. Louis hesitated, “Someday. I bet you. I guarantee everything on that, trust me. Trust yourself—“

“Fuck it. Fuck my life.” Your harsh words shocking Louis. He widened his eyes, “No! Don’t say things like that!”

“What? Now I’m not allowed to express my life in a sentence?” You shrugged, stood up and opened Louis’s fridge. Louis shut his mouth, but focusing on your hand reaching the cold bottle of beer. You took it out, facing the cold glass to the warm air outside the chilly fridge. You poured some to the glass.

You stared at the glass for a second before you brought them to your mouth. And whispered darkly.

“I’m fucked, Louis. There’s no way out there,” Your sad dark smile was another stab to Louis’s heart. Before you drank all the liquid, and every bitter truths inside the particles.

Oh, how Louis wished he had the courage to hugged you, embraced you. Took you to all the bright places, whispered “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll always be here.” And kissed the top of your head every day and night.

and the sixth, is when you admit you may have fucked up a little But for this time, you weren’t the only one who fucked up.

The man who watched you swallowed his beer was agreeing, silently. -------

I KNOW THIS IS VERY MESSY AND UGLY I HOPE SOMEONE READS THIS IDK HOPE U LIKE IT

#onedirection #one direction #louis tomlinson #louistomlinson #1d #harrystyles #harry styles #zaynmalik #zayn malik #liam payne #liampayne #niallhoran #niall horan #one direction imagines #one direction x reader #louis x reader #louis tomlinson x reader

2 notes · View notes