#which means I feel like I’m taking a double-shot in the dark
Text
His Hoodie
You looked cold so Sebastian let you borrow his hoodie, he didn’t know how much he’d like seeing you in it.
Sebastian xF!Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names
Wc: 3530
It’s another Friday night at the Stardrop Saloon. You’re in your usual spot, next to Abigail on the couch, in the game room watching Sebastian school Sam at pool like always.
“Top left pocket,” Sebastian calls his final shot.
“No way you can sink that, man!” Sam said.
Sebastian catches your eye as he carefully lines up his shot, and with a wink he sinks the 8-ball.
Sam groans “argh you’re too good, it’s not fair!”
Sebastian chuckles softly, “Fine, fine. Y/n, are you any good at pool?”
“Um I mean I’ve played before but I’ve never claimed to be good… why?” You ask.
“Let’s say I’m evening the playing field,” Seb says with a grin.
“Hey two against one isn’t even,” Sam complains.
“Think of it this way Sam, I’m teaching y/n so if you beat us, you’re beating me and showing what a bad teacher I am.”
“Alright… just this once” Sam says.
The game starts just fine, Seb breaks. Expertly sinking two balls off the bat.
“We’re solids, y/n. That means don’t sink the stripes” Seb teases.
You blush, “I know the basics.”
You asses the table, choosing your path. You lean down, hoping to at least hit the ball. Sebastian’s breath catches. Sure he’s been attracted to you since you first moved into Pelican Town, but seeing your jeans perfectly molded to your ass as you bend over the table… the things he’d do to you if you were alone.
Seb says “Sorry I couldn’t tell you knew which ball to hit by the way you line up your shot” he chuckles. “Here, can I help?”
He leans down behind you. You can feel his breath on your ear ask he skates his hand down your forearm to adjust your hold.
“You gotta grip it a little tighter, you’re in control here,” he whispers into your ear.
It’s only with his body pressed to yours, his hand guiding your own, that you realize how phallic a pool cue can be. He must realize it too, because you feel something firm pressing against your ass.
*cough cough* Sam clears his throat.
“Today you two!” Abigail laughs.
You blush as Sebastian cooly straightens and runs his fingers through his dark hair.
“You got this y/n” he says encouragingly.
You take the shot and make it.
“Woah I actually made it!” You shout, bouncing up and turning to Seb. The joy on your face makes his heart flutter.
Sam sighs, “well this isn’t gonna be as easy as I thought”.
“I’ll grab the next round, you guys keep playing” you say.
After you return with the drinks the game and the jokes flow easily.
You make a few shots and miss a few too, with Seb encouraging or laughing it off with you.
“Middle right!” Sam calls the last ball.
He lines up his shot
He shoots
It misses.
“Oof, tough break bud” Abigail says.
“Awh sorry Sam, looks like it’s not your night,” Seb teases. “Y/n, you’re up.”
You choke on your drink, “Seb I thought it was your turn??”
He smiles at you, “nah, you’ve been doing so well for me. I think you deserve to finish this.”
You try to keep your cool, leaning over the table.
“Just breathe, you got this.” Seb says, it’s meant to be encouraging for you but it doubles as an attempt to control his hard on. The way you’re leaning, he can just glimpse your black lacy bra down your shirt.
“Top left,” you call the pocket.
With Seb’s encouragement warming in your chest, you loose your shot. The tip of the pool cue hits the ball perfectly, sinking the 8-ball right where you wanted it.
“Hey we did it!” You bounce up and pull Sebastian into a hug. He stiffens at the sudden contact and you let go blushing.
“Way to go y/n, now I guess I’ll be bench warming all by my lonesome” Abigail scoffs
“Maybe you should try playing some time Abby,” Sam says.
“Oh fuck off sam, you just want to win for once,” Abigail said.
“Think you can take me??” Sam asks.
Seb leans over towards you, “they could be at this for awhile, want to join me for a smoke break?”
You nod and follow him out of the saloon.
Seb leans against the side of the building, pulls out his pack of cigs and offers one to you.
You take it, happy to have something warm you up on this cool spring night. Seb flicks on his lighter and you lean in to light to up. You look so beautiful in the light from the flame, your eyes hooded, focusing on getting your cig lit then they flicker up at him, catching his gaze. Time slows as his can see your lips wrapped around his cock instead of that dainty cigarette. He blinks, releasing the flame. Relishing that he can hide his blush in the darkness. As he lights his own cig, you fall into a similar daze. Watching his fingers expertly flick on the flame, illuminating his face so full of focus. Your mind drifts to what that focus and those fingers could do to you. The thoughts make you shiver.
“Oh shit, y/n, are you cold?” Sebastian ask.
“Huh? What?” You shake yourself out of your daze.
“Here hold this” he hands you his cigarette and begins to take off his hoodie.
“Oh now you don’t need to…” your words trail off as Sebastian pulls the hoodie over his head. It takes some of his shirt with it, revealing his stomach and a hint of hair at his waist line in the moonlight. You take a drag on your cig to try and refocus yourself.
“Trade me,” Seb says as he holds the hoodie out towards you. Passing him the cigarettes, you pull the hoodie on. It’s still warm and smells like him, a mix of smoke, cedar and something spicy.
“I think our cigs got swapped at some point, this one is maybe yours?” He says handing it back over.
You giggle, “it doesn’t really matter, we were bound to swap saliva eventually.” You say as you lean up against the wall next to him.
He turns to face you, “oh really? And how is that?”
“Oh, um well, you know..” you stammer. “Like sharing drinks and stuff…”
“And stuff?” Seb teases.
You take a drag and blow your smoke in his face, causing him to cough and laugh. You start to laugh too, then Sebastian’s hand grabs your wrist, pulling you to him. With his other hand he tilts your chin up so your eyes meet, he can see the Cherry of his cig reflected in your blown out pupils. A dead giveaway that you want him as much as he wants you.
“Stuff like….” Seb drawls, leaning down to brush your lips with his own. “this?” He murmurs against your mouth just before capturing it with a kiss. You let out a soft moan, as you part your lips to deepen the kiss. You pull lightly on his full bottom lip with your teeth and he lets out a low groan, dropping your wrist and grabbing your waist to pull your body flush against his. Just as you begin to deepen the kiss the door to the saloon swings open and you hear your friends turning the corner. The two of you jump back, sucking desperately at your cigs to try and act natural.
“Oh there you guys are!” Sam says.
“Sam thought you would’ve snuck off to the woods or something,” Abigail laughs.
“Nah, we’re just enjoying the air” Seb says, hoping his voice sounds calm even though his pulse is hammering so hard he’s sure everyone can hear it.
“Yep, love me some air” You say a little breathlessly, shooting Seb a small smile.
Abigail and Sam share a look that says they are all too aware of what they interrupted.
“…anyway, I’m headed home. Seb, you ready to head out?” Abigail asks.
Shit, Sebastian got so swept up in you he completely forgot he’d promised to walk Abby home. She may have a tough exterior, but after her first trip to the mines, the darkness makes her jumpy.
“Yeah, um let me just finish this cig. “ he says.
“Oh, here you probably need this back,” you say, “I know how cold the walk up to the mountains can be.”
You start to wriggle out of his hoodie.
Seb places a hand on your arm, halting you movement. You look up at him.
“I think you need it more than I do tonight,” he says with a small smile.
“Well I’m off,” Sam says. “Bye you guys!”
“Alright Abby, let’s head out.” Seb says, “see ya later Sam… bye y/n.” His hand lingers on your arm for just a moment before he steps back and heads out with Abby.
You sigh, take a final drag on your cigarette and turn for the farm. You’re grateful for the warm hoodie, but you wish it was Seb walking you back to your house. You imagine him pushing you up against the wall the second you walk through the door. kissing you until you’re both panting and breathless. But it’s just you, alone on the farm.
You get ready for bed, keeping the hoodie and the smell of him on your body. As you snuggle into bed, you fantasize the he’s there with you. You grab your breasts and tease your nipples, thinking of his fingers pulling them and his mouth sucking on one and then the other…
~*~meanwhile, outside Abigail’s house~*~
Shit shit shit, Seb thinks. He just realized he left his house key in the pocket of his hoodie. He could wake up Maru or his mom but he always hates how they look at him coming home late, smelling like smoke.
Y/n probably just took the hoodie off when she got home and left it on that coat rack by the door. He could just slip in and grab the key and you wouldn’t have to know.
The thought of sneaking into y/n’s house while she’s asleep gives Seb a dirty thrill. He feels his cock stiffen as his mind floats to naughty thoughts of ways he could wake you up. He was so wrapped up in his fantasy the walk was over before it had begun. The farm really was so peaceful at night, he’d never noticed how beautiful y/n kept it. It’s almost as calming as the lake in the mountains.
“You don’t even know if she likes you like that Seb, stop imagining a life here,” he scolds himself, walking up to the door.
Reaching his hand up to brush the top of the door frame, he finds the key you keep ‘hidden’. Locking the door always makes you feel safe, but you also want your friends to be able to come by anytime they need.
He fits the key into the lock, turns it quietly and slips into the darkness of your home. Pulling out his phone flashlight, Seb searches the coat rack for any sign of the hoodie, with no luck. Maybe you took it off in your bedroom… he quietly walks down the hallway. Hearing a noise, he halts. Was that sound really what he thinks it was? He hears another little whimper.
“Yes, Sebby yes,” you moan quietly.
His heart hammers in his chest and his cock hardens painfully.
“Is this really happening?? Is y/n really touching herself while thinking about me??” Seb thinks.
He palms his hard length through his tight jeans letting out a small hiss of air between his teeth. Before he can stop himself, Seb peers into your bedroom. He sees you, glowing in the moonlight wearing only his hoodie. One hand clutching your breast and the other moving carefully between your legs. You’re so lost in the action, you don’t notice him enter the room.
“Tsk tsk tsk, you’re such a needy girl aren’t you y/n,” Seb says in a low, barely audible voice.
“mmmmm I need you sebby” You moan, thinking his voice was in your head. Wait…. That was most definitely not in your head. Your movement stops and your eyes shoot open to find Sebastian casually leaning against your doorframe.
“Don’t stop on my account sweetheart,” he drawls taking a few steps into the room. “Unless you want some help with that?”
You’re stunned into silence. Is this really happening? You’re open your mouth to reply, but quickly close it. You sit up and grab at your sheets to cover you, praying he can’t see your flushed face in the moonlight.
“Don’t get all shy on me now baby,” Sebastian croons, making his way to the edge of your bed.
“Wha-what are you doing here Seb??” You stammer.
He huffs out a laugh and sits down next to you.
“Awh, what happened to Sebby? I think I like when you moan it out of that pretty little mouth.”
He leans in capturing your lips with his own as his hand reaches into the hoodie pocket.
“Woah wha-?” You pull away with a start as you feel his hand brush your stomach through the fabric. He pulls his hand out and you see something flash between his fingers. A key.
“I realized I left this in there after I got to Abby’s,” Seb says, “And instead of dealing with Maru I figured I’d slip in here and grab the key from the coat rack.”
He twirls the key in his fingers, watching you squirm under the covers. He laughs, “Imagine my surprise to find you wearing only my hoodie while you moan out my name.”
Grabbing your hand, Seb gently guides you to feel his hard bulge through his jeans.
“Ahhh” he sighs at the contact, “See what you do to me y/n?”
You let out a whimper, biting your lip.
“And to find out you’re so needy for me, that’s just an extra treat.” He says, his voice low and gravely.
Sebastian shifts quickly to straddle you, grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them above you as he cups your chin with the other.
“How bout you be a good girl and let me take care of you, y/n?”
You nod vigorously and he leans in to press a punishing kiss to your lips. You both moan as he presses his bulge to your dripping pussy. His hands begin to roam your body, grabbing at your breasts and your hips. You reach down to grab the hem of the hoodie but Sebastian grabs your wrist and presses a kiss to it.
“No,” he says, his eyes dark. “Keep it on. I like seeing you in it.”
Your heart flutters and you caress his face.
“Anything for you Sebby,” you say.
At the sound of the nickname falling from your lips, Seb feels himself losing control. He would do anything to hear you cry out his name.
He leans back taking you in, hoodie bunched up around your waist, chest heaving and pussy glistening. All for him. Sebastian knows he should take it slow, savoring and exploring your body. But you’re both so ready any more foreplay would feel like torture.
He crawls out of bed, and unbuttons his pants. You’re practically drooling watching him pull off his dark tshirt and black jeans. Seb’s dark boxer briefs fight to restrain his erection. Then those are on the floor too. His hard cock springs out, and you shudder in a breath looking at him. Have you ever seen a boy as beautiful as Sebastian? His pale skin shining in the moonlight. He slowly strokes his cock, letting you watch him.
“You’re so beautiful Sebby,” you tell him softly.
He huffs out a rough chuckle, “You’re one to talk sweetheart”.
He climbs back on top of you. You pull him down for a kiss, tongues twining as you lose yourselves in the others mouth. You arch your back, pressing your body into him. His cock brushes your soaked pussy. He pulls back from the kiss on shaky arms.
“Are you sure you want to do this y/n? If we do this, I don’t think I can go back. I don’t think we can just be friends anymore. I’ll want all of you.” Sebastian says, looking intently into your eyes.
“Fuck being friends,” you say, “I’ve wanted to be yours since I first saw you.”
He groans, pushing the head of his aching cock between your wet, waiting folds.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” Seb says as he eases into you. Just the tip, letting you adjust to the size of him and allowing him to get his bearings so he doesn’t blow this moment by cumming the instant he feels you clench around him.
He takes a shaky breath and continues to push into you, stopping only when he is fully sheathed inside of you.
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes out. “So good and tight for me aren’t you sweet girl”
You moan and he can feel your walls clench his cock. He pulls out almost to the tip, then slams back into you.
“My good girl, so wet and ready for me” Seb says between thrusts. “You are my good girl aren’t you?” He asks.
You’re so lost in pleasure you don’t register that he’s waiting for a response. Seb reaches out and wraps his long fingers lightly around your throat. Your eyes snap up to his, you’ve never been choked in bed before.
He pushes in all the way then stills “You have to answer me baby.” Seb says, watching you with dark eyes.
“Y-yes, I’m your good girl Sebby,” you murmur, wriggling your hips.
Seb chuckles and applies a little more pressure to your throat. You moan in response and he rewards you by starting to fuck you again in earnest.
“Next time we’ll take things slower baby” he huffs, “I’ll fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.” Seb groans, his pace getting sloppier. “I’ll eat your perfect pussy until you come on my tongue.”
You cry out, eyes closing as you succumb to the pleasure.
“No no baby,” he coos, “I need to see your eyes as you come for me”.
You blink open your eyes, taking in the sight of Seb’s lean frame towering over you. Sebastian’s eyes bore into yours, so full of lust and hunger.
“Seb-sebby,” You moan “I’m gonna cum!”
His intense features break into a grin, “That’s my good girl, cum all over my cock sweetheart”.
And with that Sebastian follows you over the edge, thrusting deep into you as he spills into your pussy. His arms give out and he falls onto your chest with a huff. You giggle, nuzzling his head. Seb jerks a bit, and groans.
“What is it Seb?” You ask.
He lets out a chuckle, “I can feel you laughing”.
You giggle again, and he buries his face in your chest. “It feels good I hope?” You ask.
“Fuck baby, it feels too good,” Seb says looking up at you with a grin.
He pushes back up on he elbows, and with a hiss pulls out of you. You let out a little whine, feeling empty without him inside you.
Seb laughs shaking his head, “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”
He sits back, admiring how lucky he is. The girl he’s thought about while alone in his own bed, now sprawled out before him. Your beautiful fucked out expression, his cum leaking out of your perfect pussy. Seb leans forward and with two fingers starts gently scooping his cum back into you.
“Mmmmm” you moan, “Whatcha doin down there Sebby?” You ask with a shiver.
He looks up at you with a bashful smile, “Just didn’t want to waste any of it,” he says as he pushes his fingers into your overly sensitive hole.
You gasp as Sebastian curls his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that drives you crazy. He pumps them in and out of you in a lazy pace, watching you whimper. Seb brushes his thumb against your clit causing you to tense.
“Shhh baby, just relax” he says rubbing your thigh with his free hand. “You didn’t think I’d give my sweet girl just one orgasm did you?”
You let out a groan as Seb slowly pushes another finger into you. He fingers you lazily, skillfully drawing out your second orgasm. After bring you back down from your high, seb slides his fingers out of you and slips them into his mouth.
“We taste pretty good together baby,” he says with a wink. You can’t move, so entranced watching him clean your combined mess off of his fingers.
“C’mon sweet girl,” he says extending his hand, “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.”
You follow his to the bathroom, “Wait so does that mean…” you trail off.
“What? You think I’d take this good care of you to let you sleep alone?” He asks with a grin.
#sdv sebastian x reader#stardew sebastian#stardew valley#sdv sebastian#farmer x sebastian#sebastian x reader#stardew sebastian x reader#sdv sebastian x farmer#sdv smut#sdv sebastian smut#stardew smut#sdv Sebastian x female reader
898 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Breath Of Fresh Air ( Veracruz x AFAB!F!Reader )
Summary: you get caught outside after curfew. Luckily for you, Veracruz is open to … negotiations. (This is basically a transcription of a dream I had. Whoops.)
CWs: DUBCON / Overstimulation / Double Penetration / Impact Play (Slapping & Spanking) / Degradation / Rough sex / Anal play / Unsafe PIV Sex / Oral Sex (M!Recieving) / Squirting / Extremely dirty talk / Transactional sex / Bordering on Dead Dove.
Notes: please read the warnings and consume content at your own risk & responsibility. Credit for giving Veracruz his first name goes to @ezras--moon & @ariundercovers 🩷
You just wanted some fresh air. A breather from the stuffy house you’d been confined to with the rest of your group. Generally, when a militia takes over town, you stay out of their way.
You’ve never been the smartest; rounding the corner of the alleyway, you almost walk right into him. Not just any asshole with a gun, but the leader of the unit. Fuck.
Leandro Veracruz isn’t a patient man, not really. He saves all limited patience for his job, to keep control over his unit and appear to be the cold, calculated leader that he is. You don’t rise to the rank he holds at the age he is, without being a little ruthless.
You’ve heard of his reputation. The way he doesn’t seem to care about cutting down anyone who gets in his way. You’re certain there has to be some sort of driving motive behind how he is; it’s rare for people to be the way he is without motive, but still.
“You’re out after curfew.”
You know that he is, undeniably, a bad guy, but nonetheless, that heavily accented, dark tone sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s that stupid, primal reaction that makes you choose honesty, rather than trying to craft a feasible lie.
“I know. I’m sorry, I just. I really needed some air.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you realise how stupid you sound. It only serves to sink in further when he raises an eyebrow at you.
“You needed some air? After curfew? Did you consider maybe opening a window?” He’s tired; it’s late, and one of his people has come down with the flu, so he’s covering his patrol instead of sleeping. It’s made him a little more short tempered than usual. “You know you could be shot for this, yes?”
You visibly shrink in on yourself, and Leo almost feels bad. Almost. He knows what it’s like to be cooped up in a small space, can’t really blame you for wanting to get out, but the rules are the rules, and he has a reputation to protect.
“Are you going to shoot me?” You ask finally.
He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “If I was going to shoot you, pajarito, I would have done so by now. I am going to have to arrest you, though.”
You shiver again, thinking of the overcrowded cells in the local station, the lawlessness that goes on in there. You could be assaulted, stabbed, beaten, and nobody would blink an eye. Absolutely not. Which leaves…
“Maybe we can work out some sort of compromise?” The way you say the last word, the way you pause before you deliver it in a somewhat suggestive tone, makes it entirely clear to him what you mean.
Leandro has absolutely no trouble getting women; he knows he’s attractive, knows the right things to say and do. He’s not above paying for company, either. It’s been a while, though, given the latest operation, and frankly? You offering as a bribe is entertaining him… entertaining him and intriguing him.
He looks you up and down, then nods.
“I’m sure we could come up with some sort of deal, yes.” A lazy smirk crosses his face as his hand moves to almost caress the cuffs at his belt. “Do I need to cuff you, or are you going to follow me quietly?”
It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s armed; a handgun, a rifle, and a wicked looking knife sheathed in his belt.
“No, I’ll be good.”
“Good answer.” He nods approvingly, beckons you forward. He leads you through the alleyway, through a back gate into the little house he’s taken over as base; his people are inside, but his command centre outside is set up in a tent. It’s a durable, triple canvas layer thing built to withstand pretty much any weather.
Lit by a lantern swinging from the roof, it’s a practical, spartan, and yet somehow still cosy place. It doesn’t need to be furnished or fancy; he’s got a table, a gun locker, a duffle bag, and his bed in there. That’s all he needs.
The bed is a foam travel mattress laid out on stacked and nailed together pallets. No point carting a proper bed around on deployment. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’ll do. It serves his purpose just fine, and given the circumstances, you aren’t about to complain.
You’ve seen him shoot people in the centre of town before. Seen the way his people handle things. The fact that he’s even taking this rather than just outright punishing you for breaking the law is a good sign… you think.
He puts both the handgun and the rifle in the gun locker, then turns back to you.
“Strip.” He moves past you to flop down onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head and watching you lazily. For a moment, you consider running. You’d have a head start. But then he’d probably find you, and definitely shoot you. Besides, this was your idea.
You take your time removing each layer, trying to at least make it look somewhat enticing rather than awkward. You never quite know how people in movies manage to make stripping down for sex look enticing. Maybe you’re just clumsy.
When you’re entirely bare to his gaze, he beckons you over.
“Come here, tímida, I’m not going to hurt you… much.” A wicked grin crosses his stupidly handsome face as you nervously do as you’re told, letting him pull you onto his lap. A tiny squeak leaves you when you feel how hard he is against your core, the rough material of his cargo pants brushing against your sensitive skin.
Fuck. You’re terrified of him, yes, but you want him, you realise. Badly.
“Much?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought the deal was you don’t hurt me at all.”
There’s that wicked grin again, sinfully smug this time.
“I won’t do anything you don’t beg me for.” His fingers grip your hips roughly, making you acutely aware of how much bigger than you he is. That does absolutely nothing to curb the desire that’s starting to build in you; this was supposed to be a transaction, a way to get yourself out of trouble, but you’re starting to get the feeling that you’re going to enjoy this far more than you first expected.
“Is that right?” You manage a little smirk, lips parting in an embarrassingly needy moan when he deliberately grinds you down against the length of his cock. The very, very obvious length of him. Fuck.
His fingers wander inwards, splay across your thighs, thumbs rubbing across your skin.
“Careful…” he warns, but his voice is softer than he intended. Still, it does the trick, and you nod, pliable and submissive to his touch once more.
“That’s better…” He nods approvingly, keeps one hand holding you firmly in place while the other wanders almost lazily between your thighs, finding your swollen, aching clit and rubbing firmly. It’s not the touch of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, and briefly, a pang of envy strikes you as you think of how many other countless, nameless women have been turned to pliant mush under his touch.
“I’ll make it good for you,” he almost purrs it as he leans up so you’re chest to chest, “though it seems like you’re more than willing as it is…”
His fingers lazily drag through your slick, teasing your core, barely slipping inside. You whimper again, louder and needy at the feeling of the very tips of his callused fingers pressing inside you. You can feel your slick dripping onto his fingers, down his hand, coating his pants. Slowly, he presses his fingers in deeper, curling them enough to make you cry out, before he’s pulling them out, spreading your thighs wider, fingertips teasing your other hole, wet with your own slick.
You shiver under the touch, but you don’t flinch away.
“Knew it,” he almost mutters to himself, leaning in to drag his teeth down your throat. “Knew you were a dirty little whore. Bet you’re going to cum the second I slide my cock into this pretty little cunt.” He punctuates the last word with a sharp slap to your clit, making you cry out and flinch away. You don’t hate it, though, it just surprises you.
“Well? Are you just going to sit here and look pathetic?” His hands seize your wrists, drag your hands to his belt buckle and settle them there, leaving you no doubt as to what he wants you to do. You’d only been waiting for express permission, really, your hands making short work of the belt, unzipping his pants and reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock, freeing his length from its confines.
You have to bite down on your lip to keep your jaw from dropping. Fuck, he’s huge. Thick and curved and fuck, how is he going to fit? You run your fingers up and down his cock, thumb teasing at the tip before you meet his narrow eyed gaze.
“Stop fucking around.” He almost growls it at you, yanking you closer to him again, lifting you effortlessly so he can wrap his hand around his cock and notch it at your dripping entrance. “Montarlo, bebita.”
Ride it, baby. Oh, fuck, how you intend to.
The words are surprisingly soft as he guides you down onto him, inch by inch, letting you sink down onto him slowly. Your lips part in a filthy moan as you wriggle your hips, flush against him now. Taking a moment to breathe, you start to move, knowing he won’t just let you sit still for long.
You lift yourself up, slowly at first, then sink back down, getting faster with each movement until you’re bouncing on his cock, a string of little moans falling from your lips as one of his big hands seizes a fistful of your ass and squeezes tight, then slaps, hard enough to leave a mark.
Your cunt tightens painfully around him with each slap, knowing an imprint of his hand will be left there. Just when the slaps are really starting to hurt, he draws his hand away, settles both on your hips and guides you up and down his cock, rough and needy as his hips buck to meet you.
When he’s got you in a rhythm that he likes, he moves to rub at your clit again, clearly rewarding you for doing something that he likes. Veracruz doesn’t bother pretending he isn’t enjoying this, the way your eyes drop closed, the way you tighten around him every time he rocks his hips up.
You move your hands to brace on his chest as you ride him, lost in the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside you. Fuck, he feels so good, you don’t even care about the circumstances in which you ended up here, all that matters is the overwhelming feeling of pleasure building in you as you ride him.
“Fuck, please, give me more,” you beg him, desperate and needy and forgetting your place entirely. He’s not a good man, is allowing you to think you’re in charge because it amuses him, but the idea that he isn’t giving you enough somehow? Fine. He’ll see whether you can handle him.
He seizes your wrists in one hand, pushes you backwards and pins you beneath him, caging you in. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness where he’s pulled out of you.
“Greedy little slut, aren’t you? I bet if I cuffed you to this bed and stuffed my cock down your throat you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”
You whimper beneath him, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction on your aching clit, cunt pulsing with sheer need.
“But that’s not what you want, is it?”
You shake your head, and his open palm lightly collides with your cheek.
“Answer me. That’s not what you want, is it? So tell me what it is that you want, and maybe, maybe I’ll give it to you.” He drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, practising every step of self control he possesses not to just pin your thighs up under your chin and fuck you senseless.
“N-no, that’s not what I want.” Your cheek stings from the slap, but you love it, want him to be rough with you, want to feel him all over for days to come. And somehow, you know, that all you have to do is ask, and he’ll give it to you.
“Tell. Me.” He growls, leaning down to devour your lips in a heated kiss, knotting his fingers into your hair to yank your head to the side so he can suck a deep purple mark into the soft skin above your collarbone.
“I want you everywhere,” you tell him; he releases your wrists and immediately you move to undo his shirt, help him discard it before you drag your nails lightly up his back, “I want your beautiful fat cock stuffed inside me and your fingers in my ass. I want you to make it hurt, make it hurt so good I don’t want anyone else.”
Fuck. He practically growls at the words. Roughly spreads your thighs, hooks them up over his shoulders, lines himself up and plunges into you, making no effort to be slow, bottoming out almost immediately. The sting of your nails on the muscle of his back makes him think you’ve drawn blood, but he doesn’t give a shit. All that matters is the way your eyes roll back slightly as he fills you, the way your tight, wet little cunt seemingly sucks him in deeper, molding to every curve in his cock as your body adjusts to him again.
“Is that all?” Veracruz demands as he rocks his hips slowly, drawing another tantalising moan from your lips.
“I want you to keep going, even when it’s too much.” You reply, arching your back up to get closer to him. You don’t care whether he’s a bad man, whether he could kill you, all that matters is how he feels inside you.
“Greedy,” he pulls almost entirely out of you and slams back in, throbbing painfully at the obscene mewl you make, “fucking,” he repeats the motion, “whore.”
He slams into you, hard and fast, the tent echoing with the sound of skin roughly slapping together, your needy moans and his growls and grunts of pleasure. His teeth graze your throat, the curve of your tits, sucking greedily at your hardened nipples and biting down lightly. Almost without warning, you tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush and soak his cock, your slick dripping out of your abused cunt, down his cock, dripping down his balls as he fucks you.
“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, give me another one, go on~” he tilts his hips just so, the velvet soft head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each and every thrust, making you scream out for him, soak him again, convulsing slightly beneath him.
“That’s it,” he groans, pulls out of you briefly just so he can flip you onto your front, pausing onto to stuff a pillow beneath you to prop you up at the angle he wants you.
“Fuck,” he draws it out into a long, drawn out groan as he sinks back into you, loving the way you feel on all fours, “look at you.”
One hand fists into your hair, yanking you up into position.
“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
You’re still dazed from two back to back orgasms, but you nod as best you can. You hear the impact of his free hand on your ass before you feel it, a sharp crack that echoes through the tent.
“You answer me when I speak to you.”
“Y-yes. I’ll be good.” You almost whimper it as he starts to move, releasing your hair and rubbing soothing circles on your bruised ass.
You can feel your own slick still between your ass cheeks, unbothered when his big hands spread them gently as he fucks into you slowly.
“Does my pretty, pathetic little whore still want all of her holes filled?” His voice is slightly mocking as he teases his finger around the tight ring of muscle, making you shiver. “Is my cock not enough?”
“It is,” you whimper as he slams into you again, “but please… ‘m greedy, just wanna be filled up, please~”
You’re babbling, but neither of you care. You’re too cock drunk, and he fucking loves it.
“Such a good girl for me, you should have what you want…”
As he speaks, he presses a single finger into your ass, knuckle deep, slow enough to let you adjust. When you moan and try to press yourself back against him, wanting both his cock and his finger deeper, he chuckles low in his chest, draws his finger out only to press two back in.
You moan, loud, obscene, feeling so wonderfully, deliciously full as he starts to move his fingers in rhythm with his cock, scissoring them slightly to make you mewl and wriggle beneath him.
The hand that isn’t occupied with fucking your ass moves around to roughly palm at your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples as he fucks you, harder and faster, hand moving down to tease your clit.
It’s too much, but exactly what you wanted, tears springing to your eyes as you tighten and gush around his cock again and again, his fingers insistently plucking at your clit like a practised guitarist until you collapse on the bed, unable to hold yourself up.
“Please, I need~” you simultaneously want him to stop, and don’t, because you want him to come, want him to fill you up and make you ache with need.
“Does my little whore need something?” His voice is low, breathing slightly labored with the effort of keeping his own release at bay.
“Do you want to be filled with my cum? I’m not stupid, princesa, you can have it in your mouth or your ass, I’ll be generous and let you decide.”
Slowly he draws his fingers out of your ass, slowing his thrusts to torturously languid, giving you time to decide.
“My mouth, please,” you beg him, “I wanna taste you…”
He groans, pulls out of you and smirks slightly at the sight; your cunt is swollen from how roughly he’s fucked you, drenched in your own slick and fluids and his pre cum.
“Hands and knees.” He instructs as he gets up off the bed, beckons you to the edge of it as you obey, crawling to him on shaking limbs.
You part your lips obediently, let him feed every inch of his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking at the soft head briefly before you take him, nose brushing the soft curls at the base of him.
He moans, a loud, drawn out grunt as he rocks his hips. He’s so fucking close, you barely need to do anything, but you do, sucking him greedily, working your tongue around him as his fingers curl into your hair, roughly guiding you.
“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, my pretty little whore, you have such a filthy mouth, ‘m gonna cum down this pretty mouth, you’re gonna take it, take all of it…” he groans, trailing off into broken Spanish as his hips stutter, spilling hot, thick ropes of his spend into your mouth, down your throat.
Greedily you drink him down, make a show of licking him clean, and he groans in appreciation at the sight.
When he eventually pulls his slowly softening cock from your mouth, you look up at him with a slightly cheeky smile on your face.
“So… I’m guessing you’re not gonna shoot me?”
“No.” He agrees, and then a slightly wicked grin curves his face, “but I’m not letting you go, either.”
Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe you’re just cock drunk, or maybe you’ve never been the smartest. Either way, you look him up and down with a sleepy smile.
“Seems okay to me.”
Like you have a choice. Like you really mind, either way.
#my writing#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#comandante veracruz#Comandante Veracruz x Reader#Veracruz x Reader#Pedro Pascal Character Fics
124 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sunrise | ModernAU One-Shot
☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader
☾ Content/Warnings ➼ best friends to lovers, parental emotional abuse, FLUFF, slight hurt/comfort
☾ A/N ➼ This might be a little self indulgent, but I hope y'all like it anyways. The things the mom said may or may not be things my mother has said to me. I'm okay, before anyone asks lol. I hope this is comforting to others out there. Love you guys! Time to start of June's outline. :3
☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k
text convo made by @humanitys-strongest-bamf <3
Your silver sedan sits in the street in front of Levi’s apartment, headlights glowing on the other cars around you. Soft rock plays through the speakers as you drum your fingers on the steering wheel in impatience, the vibrant blue console lights lighting up your face. You had sent him a ‘here!’ which was left on read, meaning he was still up but still nowhere in sight. Maybe he couldn’t find his shoes? No, that wasn’t like him. He has a cubby by the door for them, which he kept immaculate. Just as you were going through other impossible scenarios, there’s a sharp knock on the passenger door that makes you jump. It’s Levi, double fisting two teas in to-go cups as you requested.
“Will you get the door, dumbass? My hands are full.” You hear muffled through the glass. It takes a bit of strain, but you lean over to unlatch the door and push it so Levi can kick it open with the tip of his shoe carefully. The internal lights pop on, blinding you momentarily but when your vision adjusts, you see Levi extending a long-sleeved arm to you with your drink.
“You remembered!” You exclaim, grabbing the warm cup from him so he can place his own down in the cup holder before sliding himself in the seat next to you.
“You asked for it.” He grumbles as he buckles himself in and then stares over at you, deadpan. His eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of you. "Is that my sweater?" You were indeed wearing Levi's thick, gray turtleneck. His favorite one, at that. You notice he says nothing about the red puffiness around your eyes.
“Well hello to you too, grumpy.” You smirk over at him as you take a careful sip of your tea, ignoring his question and relishing the flavors that Levi chose. It’s a blend that Levi had made special for you a while back, strong and smooth and a little fruity. Levi wasn’t a fan of it, but you loved it - for more reasons than you wouldn’t dare say.
“I’m not grumpy. And I’ve been looking for that all week. I’ll take it from you by force if I have to.”
“Mmm, kinky.” He scoffs but says nothing, looking away. You shift in your seat so you're facing him, linking your fingers together and resting your chin on them as you stare over at him. He gives you a side-eye, then a scowl.
"I am not driving, forget it." Levi snaps at you.
.
“So, what was it this time?” Levi mutters over to you from the driver’s side. He has the window down, hair wind-swept as he stares out into the very early morning darkness. His index finger taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing in the background.
“Hm?” You don't bother looking over you as you speak. You have your arms placed up on the door with your head resting on them, your face lighting up every couple seconds from the glow of the passing street lights.
“What kept you awake this time?” You think for a moment about how you want to word what made your heart ache today. Even after 17 years of friendship, you still struggle with talking about your feelings with him. An emotional disconnection you’ve had since before you met him so long ago. He understood though and never asked, which is why he sat so patiently while you pieced together your thoughts. Nothing coherent came to mind, though.
“I don't…" You trail off, clearing your throat in discomfort. You bring your hand to your mouth and start chewing on your thumbnail.
"…know how to word it?" Levi finishes for you. As always, he was so good at reading you.
"Look at you finishing my sentences. You know, the whole friend group thinks we're secretly dating. Hange even has a bet."
"Oh yeah? What did shitty-glasses wager on this one?” Levi quips without missing a beat. He rolls to a stop at a four-way and takes this time to give you a full exasperated stare.
"Something about cleaning Miche's and Nanaba's shared apartment if they lost.“ You laugh before taking another sip of your tea. It's sweetened just the way you like it. Levi is great at remembering the little things like that.
“Tch. Then they better start cleaning.” Levi grumbles as he pushes down on the gas pedal gently. Levi didn't press, but you knew the conversation was well from over. He would never tell you, but he always wanted to know what was on your mind, especially when you were this upset. To you, however, he didn't need to. His quick glances at you every other stoplight told you enough how present he is for you, and always would be.
You stick your head out the window and smile at the warm breeze against your face. When you stare up at the sky, your vision is filled with pale stars and a bright moon. A couple clouds float by, lit up from the moonlight. It really is a perfect right for a drive.
"Do we have a destination in mind?" He turns the volume dial up a bit, the same soft rock from before now at a moderate level. You wouldn't mind it being louder, but with Levi's question now lingering in the air, skull shaking volume would have to wait.
"I don't, actually. I was hoping you’d just drive and see where it takes us." You give him a huge grin and a finger gun, and Levi just snorts in response.
"Alright then. Let's see where this takes us."
.
Around an hour and half later, Levi and you find yourselves still in the car on a gentle incline. You have no idea where Levi was taking you but now with the faint light of the early morning, you can see you're somewhere with lots of trees. Both of you are far from tired, disposable cups now empty. You’ve been staring at Levi for the last ten minutes with glazed eyes as your mind wanders. His voice snaps you back.
“Before you say anything about the eye bags, just know you’re part of the problem.” He says dryly with pursed lips.
“Pfft, your sleep problems are yours and yours alone.” You roll your eyes at that, but you can’t hold back your smile. The car slows down before turning off on a dirt path to your left. It’s still quite dark from the canopy of leaves above, so your view is limited to what the headlights illuminate.
“Oh, is this the day? You’re finally going to murder me and dispose of my body in the forest where it belongs?? What is it, head bludgeoning or a gunshot?” You feign an excited tone, wide eyes and toothy grin to accentuate it.
“Trust me. When I get rid of you, it’ll be much more thrilling than either of those.”
“Boo.” You stick your tongue out and pout.
Levi rolls the car down the path slowly, keeping his eye out for anything that might be in the way. It was relatively safe with only fallen leaves and small twigs littering the road. There’s a light at the end of it and after a moment, the car breaks through and then Levi puts the car in park. Your breath is taken away in a mere second.
You unfasten your seat belt and throw yourself out of the car quickly. Not bothering to shut the door behind you, you run over to the edge of the cliff that you find yourself on. You’re not sure how high up you are but it’s a considerable distance because the trees that litter the valley beneath you are quite small. It’s all green, broken up by a wide river that you suspect is the very same one that cuts through town. A layer of low fog weaves through the whole valley, and you imagine how pretty the morning dew must be from it. On the horizon, you see the beginning of pinks and oranges start to paint the sky. The sun is about to break.
Raising your hands above your head, you scream with exhilaration. A warm gust of wind blows against your face, throwing your hair back and tangling in the breeze. This was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen, you think.
“Levi Ackerman, you jerk! How could you keep something like this from me!?” You yell as you turn around quickly, meeting his stormy gray eyes. He’s staring at you with a lopsided smile while he leans against the driver’s side door, arms and legs crossed.
“I can’t let you in on all of my secrets. That’s just not fair.” He shrugs with nonchalance.
“Does almost two decades of friendship mean nothing to you?” You smirk over at him.
Levi makes his way to the hood of the car and sits back on it, patting the spot next to him for you. You raise your eyebrow at him but amble over to him anyways before pulling yourself up as well. Your legs curl up under you as you cross them, noting the metal underneath you bending more than you’d like. Whatever, your car is on its last leg anyways.
You both sit in silence for a moment. Birds chirp and sing behind you in the trees, the rustling of the leaves signifies the start of their early morning routines. The sun still hasn’t made an appearance, and you gauge it’ll probably be another fifteen or so minutes until it wakes up for the day.
“So. What happened?” Levi pipes up next to you. When you twist your head to look at him, you notice a softness in his eyes; a look he reserves for when it’s just you and him. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you rest your cheek against your knee as you continue to watch Levi.
“My mother called me again.” You frown a little, now matching the one Levi points your way.
“You answered, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I told myself not to but then I got worried that maybe something happened. So, I picked it up. It started off okay…” You trail off as you reposition your head so that you are now resting your chin in the crook of where your knees met. The oranges and pinks glow brighter with every passing second.
“What did she say this time?” he asks gently.
“Oh, the usual. ‘You know how I feel about quitters’ and ‘it makes me sad to see your wasted potential’ then ended it with something along the lines of ‘being selfish’.” You laugh sardonically at that, heavy bitterness seeping into your tone.
“You know better than to-“
“Than to answer I know.” You snap. You continue to stare at an invisible airplane in the distance. The wind starts stinging your eyes, or was it tears? You blink hard to get whatever it was out.
“- than to believe any of that shit.” Levi retorts. He shifts next to you, the groaning of the metal underneath you both breaking up the momentary silence.
“I know, and it’s just so frustrating that it still gets under my skin. It’s been years since I’ve left. You’d think I’d be over it by now.” Your voice gives you away with a crack. You sniffle and rub your eyes with the sleeves of Levi’s sweater. Your tears leave dark marks against the gray. Levi mumbles your name, and you sit up and turn your head back to him. He just stares at you with his lips parted, thinking of what he wanted to say.
“Healing isn’t linear, nor is it clean. It’s going to have its moments where you feel like you’re falling back and it’s becoming too loud and chaotic. But you are healing, you need to be patient with yourself.” He says over to you gently, before bumping against your shoulder with his own affectionately. He’s a lot closer than you thought he was. “And don’t answer her calls anymore.” You continue to stare at him, this time in wonder.
“Hey Levi?” You ask softly.
“Hm?”
“You know you’re my best friend, right?”
This time Levi stares at you, but with what you’re not sure. You don’t get a moment to think as Levi leans into you, slowly. His lips linger across from yours, as if waiting for you to pull away. You don’t. Pushing yourself into him, your lips meet his and they’re so soft against yours. It starts off gentle, but then the kiss deepens as he moves his arm in a way to hold you closer to him. He tastes like bitter tea leaves and sweet honey. The sun breaks over the horizon, pale yellow now lighting up the surroundings.
When you both pull away, you notice a pink flush burning into his cheeks as he stares over at you. A laugh escapes you, loud and chest deep. A small smile tugs at his lips as he watches you. The way the early morning sun hits his face, you want it ingrained in your brain.
You grab his shirt and pull him back into another kiss, smiling into it as you do.
“Don’t tell Hange, I still want to watch them clean.” Levi mumbles against your mouth.
This moment, right here. You wanted to stay forever, you think.
taglist: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @averysmolbear @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @sckerman @secretmoneybearvoid
If you'd like to be a part of my taglist to be notified for writings like this, please go here! Your info and answers will never be shared!
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi x gn!reader#levi ackerman x gn!reader#attack on titan#aot#shingeki no kyojin#snk#modernau#modern au#fluff#best friends to lovers#friends to lovers#one shot
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bewitching Hour
Bucky Barnes x FemReader
Warnings: cursing, alcohol use, mentions of blood, spicy 🌶️ topics 👀
Hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of +18 stuff if ya know what I mean 😏
It’s weeks after your rescue mission and luckily Bucky is on the mend. Unfortunately, your actions on the field have you wrapped up in the biggest trial of your life. While the rest of the team votes on your future, you decide to hit up a bar and drink away your problems.
A/N: Someone suggested on my previous Bucky fic to write another piece on this storyline and i had some stroke of writers inspiration, which is very rare to come by nowadays 😩 So onwards with the y/n reader who has shadow powers and a super soldier for a boyfriend! 🫡
So this is part 2 of what I’m calling the Midnight Series. I will update my master list and link here.
Enjoy 🤘🏼
Clubs were not your scene. At first you tried a small run down bar you found in Hell’s Kitchen and that was packed on a Friday night with people from all walks of life. You had a few beers, but decided you needed somewhere different. Somewhere no one would notice you in a sea of people. Where you could drink your feelings away on what would probably be your last night of freedom.
You found a popular club not too far from the bar. The air was thick with the hot air emanating from the crowd as they danced to a booming beat. You sat at the far end of the bar, downing your 5th shot of vodka. The drink was horse piss compared to the stuff Stark stocked at the compound, but it would do for tonight.
“Another round miss?” The bartender asked, making her way down the bar as people clambered to get their drink. Her tank top was low cut, showing off her commodities that probably earned her extra tips on busy nights like these. “A double this time,” you respond, sliding over a few bills. The bartender didn’t bat an eye as she poured your drink and immediately moved on to the next customer.
Your hand shook a bit as you went to grab the glass. I should definitely stop. You thought. You had went out in the dance floor earlier, feeling the need to do something—anything to take your mind off your situation. Dancing had been a sort of release, letting your body move to the beat, letting yourself meld into the crowd like anyone else. Now you were flushed, sweating, and in your eyes—not drunk enough. I should stop. I will… after this…
Just as your fingertips touched the glass, a familiar gloved hand beat you to it and pulled the glass out of your reach. You looked up with blazing anger, your eyes turning dark at your thief. You had already been hit on by four guys, each one reeking of alcohol as the night progressed. You were one drunk idiot away from losing your shit. You felt a slight stream of smoke begin to encircle your closed fist until you recognized the man in front of you.
Immediately your eyes softened as they settled on Bucky’s concerned face. He still had harsh bruises scattered on his skin, most of them a pale yellow as they neared healing completely. He wore a dark baseball cap and a pair of phony glasses in order to blend in. While you were one of the few avengers that no one recognized, Bucky did not have the same luxury. The sight of him made your chest tighten. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at him sometimes, especially when he looked at you like this…
“Hey Buck,” you said softly, averting your eyes from him. You figured he would find you sooner or later. You left your phone at the compound when you left. It was a dangerous game to play, especially since you weren’t supposed to leave the compound in the first place. But you needed an escape, and telling Bucky would have complicated things. You wondered how many times he had called, wondering where you were in a panicked state.
“Hey Doll,” he replied with equal tenderness. He leaned onto the bar, fiddling with the shot glass in his hand, being careful to not spill its contents.
“You’ve been hard to find today.” The music around you boomed and his voice barely cut through the noise. You had to strain yourself to hear him, especially being inebriated, but you knew he would hear you just fine.
You shrugged. “I didn’t really feel like being around when the hammer dropped, ya know? If they decide to arrest me…” you willed yourself to look at the man you loved.
You were on the borderline of being drunk, and your vision danced a bit as you looked at him. He gave you a soft look, his eyes seemed to shimmer in the lights of the bar. “I didn’t want to make it easy for them.”
“They aren’t going to arrest you,” Bucky insisted. “Steve wouldn’t-“
“Of course he fucking would!” You yelled. Bucky did not react to your outburst, which made the anger in your core flicker even more.
“Fuck Steve! He’s the one that called this meeting in the first place. He wants to see me punished—I know he does. I mean come on Buck, I broke protocol, I defied his orders— I killed… so many people…” your memories flashed to that day.
The mission was the most important thing to you ever. You looked at Bucky again, and used one hand to remove the glasses from his face. He let you remove them and cup his cheek as you ran a gentle thumb over one of his fading bruises.
“I would do it all again. Every single fucking thing. I don’t care if they hate me for it—”
Bucky placed his hand over yours. You stood there a moment in silence as the rest of the bar roared around you. He always made it feel as if nothing in the world mattered but the two of you. As if the rest of the world sipped away into the background. You smiled at him, wondering how you could have ever been so lucky as to live a man like him. You stood from your chair, wobbling a bit as you regained your balance.
“I wanna dance,” you said, taking hold of his hand, “If it’s my last night of freedom, I want to have fun.” You tried to pull him with you to the dance floor but he didn’t budge. He just looked at you with a steady look.
“Y/n, let me take you home,” Bucky said. You frowned and let go of his hand. You began to back away from him and slip further into the group of dancing people. He called out for you again, but you had already lost yourself in the sea of people.
The music seemed to fill your senses. You danced and moved your body freely, wanting nothing more than to be taken by the moment. You let your hair down, spinning and feeling free in your drunken state. You felt Bucky’s hand on your shoulder and you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. People danced around you as you looked into Bucky’s eyes. He still had a look of concern, but there was something else in his eyes. A spark of something deeper— something wild.
“Dance with me James,” you whisper in his ear, biting at his neck as you pull him closer. He could smell the liquor on your breath and he sighed.
“You know you want to,” you teased. You slid your hands from his neck down to his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt as you swayed to the beat. He couldn’t help but smirk at you, moving his hands ever so slowly to your waist.
You smiled brilliantly at this, and he pulled you in closer, his fingers gripping your hips as he stayed there inches away from your face. He was teasing you with his mouth, his lips parted over so slightly in a grin. You wanted to fuck him right there on the dance floor. You inched a bit closer and could smell the hint of vodka on his breath. Your eyes lit up.
Got ‘em.
The two of you danced together, a series of movements that pushed and pulled the two of you part like magnets. Everything else blurred away, and all you felt was the freedom and love and heat from Bucky. The way he looked at you, eyes blown wide when you moved against him, how he touched you in public, gentle yet firm to keep you close to him. It made everything disappear—for a little bit.
Memories from that mission flashed in your head. Dead hydra soldiers scattering the floor. The image of them choking on your shadows—the feeling of their life leaving their bodies. You told yourself it was worth it—believed in the moment it was right—
You stopped dancing and swayed a bit, holding onto Bucky’s shoulder. He steadied you and looked you over, his chest rising and falling from the dancing.
“What’s wrong doll?” The images flashed through your mind again. Bucky, beaten near an inch of his life, his metal arm on the operation table. Your stomach lurched. Sweat beaded on your forehead and the world seemed to tilt a bit under the neon lights.
“I think I’m gonna be sick— I need to get out of here.”
He pulled you by the hand gently.
“Come on,” he said as he wrapped one hand around your waist, guiding you as you stumbled a bit, “let’s get you out of this shithole.”
“Just don’t take me back— please. I can’t—“
He shushed you gently as you made your way out of the club and into the cool night air. There was a cab outside and Bucky helped you get in the car. You didn’t hear where he told the driver to go, but he insisted he was not taking you back to the compound.
“I won’t take you back sweetheart, I promise. Just relax and please try not to vomit on my nice jacket,” He teased and wrapped his arm around you as you leaned your body into his.
The idea of vomiting up the cheap liquor made you almost dry heave once. You groaned a bit as You rested your head on his chest, nuzzling your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt. The smell of him was enough to calm your stomach for the rest of the ride.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled against him, “I’m a mess. I ruin everything.” Tears began to spill down your cheek and soak into the front of his shirt. Bucky ran his hand through your hair, kissing the top of your head.
“You dont ruin anything doll. You are perfect. You are wonderful. You are everything to me. I am alive because of you, you know that right? Hydra is gone because of you—“
“Because I killed them. I— I slaughtered them. I know I should feel some sort of regret for that… but when I think back to that day— when all I could think of was you—“ you shook your head against him.
“What they did to you— what they have already done to you over the years… Im sorry, Buck, but I don’t regret it. Not one bit. I would do it all again to save you. Maybe Steve is right— maybe I should be locked away for what I am—I’m no good— I’m a monster—“
“No.” Bucky said harshly, nearly growling against your ear. “Never think that. Do you hear me?”
His tone was a sharp blade in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to upset him, and yet here he was consoling you in the middle of the night—chasing after you like a damned child. You felt pathetic, but said no more. You just nodded once, wiping at your tears as he continued to stroke your hair.
Bucky also remained silent as the cab arrived at its destination. You looked out the window once the car stopped and were surprised by what you saw. You were outside of an old apartment building. You recognized it immediately as Bucky’s old hideout. Not even Steve knew about this safe house. Bucky paid the driver and helped you out of the car. He walked with you to the edge of the building, leaning up against the brick wall as he removed his hat. The night air swirled through his hair and he sighed.
“Any better?” He asked, watching you as you sat on the sidewalk, resting your back against the brick. The cool air was comforting, and the wave of nausea seemed to pass ever so slowly. You nodded and tilted your head back.
“Some hero I am, huh?” You laughed dryly. Bucky huffed out a small laugh.
“You know, I ask myself that almost every damn day.” You couldn’t help but laugh, turning to him with a sad smile.
“What a pair we make, eh?”
Bucky looked down at you, his expression thoughtful—but sad.
“Doll,” he sighed gently, lifting his head to look out into the night sky again. “I wish I could tell you—no show you— just how… important you are to me.” He struggled to find his words, but they made you freeze in place as he continued.
“I know what it’s like to do horrible things. Terrible, regrettable, and unforgiving things… To be haunted by the past—“ he looked down at this metal hand.
“To not be able to look yourself in the mirror most nights…”
He clenched his hand into a tight fist and exhaled slowly before turning to face you again. He held out his hand to you, and you didn’t hesitate to take it. He pulled you to your feet, guiding you closer until his hands were on your waist again.
“I used to believe that there was nothing I deserved more than to be punished for my sins. That I was a monster beyond saving. But then I met you, my little shadow monster. You saw in me what no one else believed existed—you saw the man, flaws and all. And you gave me something i never thought I deserved.”
His eyes glistened in the moonlight as he searched your face with the sweetest tenderness. As if he saw the world in your eyes.
“You gave me hope, y/n.”
A smile broke across your face as you cried and laughed. Bucky returned your smile and you pulled him in by his neck for a kiss. His mouth was gentle and sweet against yours. He pulled you closer, murmuring sweet nothings against your mouth as your tears fell down your face. The soft breeze tousled both your your hair, causing yours to swirl behind you like ribbons.
Bucky pulled away slightly, leaving his forehead tipped against yours.
“I love you, y/n. God, I love you so damned much.” You gave out a relieved laugh, and thumbed a stroke on the back of his neck.
“And I adore you,” you whispered. He pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his strong arms around you, kissing your cheeks until your tears disappeared on his lips.
“We are going to figure this out. Whatever comes our way. I promise.”
Your stomach tightened on the last part. You had made Bucky a similar promise. One you had failed to keep—one you were currently paying for. You thought about what kind of power this love held over you—over him. You were willing to destroy your life in order to keep Bucky safe— to prevent him from ever going back to being on the run, being hunted, being alone. As you held the weight of the world in your arms, you felt a sickening hole rip through your chest.
You knew what you had to do for Bucky—always for Bucky.
#fem reader#reader x marvel#marvel fanfic club#marvel#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky fic#bucky barnes
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bitch, You Need Therapy
Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Reader (afab)
Others: Chris Pontius, Steve-O
Word count: approx. 4.5k
Synopsis: You’re part of the crew, temporarily filling in and enjoying it immensely. You are filming something overseas. Knoxville finds out you have a crush on him and decides to fuck with your stressed little self until he gets carried away in the moment.
WARNINGS/tags: NC-17, minors DNI, adult language, alcohol (technical lack of consent), soft allusions to hard drugs, oral sex, genital penetration, THE DOUBLE MEANING OF LIPS, kinks galore (praise, rough, petnames, things I don’t have a word for)
Notes from the author: Yeah idk he just seems like a playful bastard that might be hiding a kinky streak. Not tied to any specific period of Jackass filming so reader can take some creative liberties (the least I can do when I am dictating reader’s entire personality lmao). Knoxville is single in this world; it’s all fun & fantasy. This work has not been officially reviewed apart from one of my best friends giving enthusiastic approval early on. But I’ve read over it a hundred times while writing it SO DAMN SLOWLY, so hopefully it is okay. There are purposeful tense changes and I hope they hit the way I'm intending. Is the whole thing cringe? Maybe; maybe not. Pls let loose & enjoy! I am a long time reader and I’ve had ideas here and there; finally decided it was time to fuck around and find out myself. It’s been way harder than I thought and I have even more respect for my fave fic authors out there. If you know me irl, no you don’t. WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU~~
Night has been falling earlier and earlier as weeks peel away from Autumn toward the year’s end. It is 7 o’clock in the evening but feels more like 11. Outside the darkness is interrupted by numerous streetlamps along the sidewalk. The lights glow a golden orange, reminding you of the crackling fire in the pub, and you dig your hands into your coat pockets seeking warmth.
“HEY ASSHOLE, why did we leave that cozy fucking place?!” you shout over the wind at one of your walking companions with some frustration. Only some. You’ve had a couple drinks and your speech seems to come out in demanding exclamations regardless of any real anger at that point. And you’re fairly certain any frustration stems from unmet desires directed toward this man and his stupid glinty purple-tinted sunglasses. Sunglasses, which he wore inside the intimately lit pub and which he is still wearing outside at night. What a jackass.
A different, unsunglasses’d man answered. “Because adventure calls! Sure, it’s cold out. But not cold enough to get frostbite. The call to adventure must be heeded even in the face of Ice Queen Mother Nature. Like the Russian Police, she’s stern. Stern…but fair,” he announced with omnipotence. Everyone in the group seemed dead set on committing crimes this evening. This one was guilty of venturing out in 20-some degree weather without a coat or sweater or torso cover of any kind. Just a fluffy scarf and a Santa hat. Another jackass, you thought. But that’s why you jumped at the chance to work with these people. It was an invigorating break from the mundane. And the group oozed fun; to be in the same room as any of them was to know friendship and laughter.
You smiled genuinely at him. Despite the cold and questionable decisions, he still inspired affection. “Thanks, as always, Pontius, for the exceptional pep talk but I think I was asking—”
“DUDE WHERE IS MY SKATEBOARD?!?!!” screeched a third man’s voice. He’d definitely had the most to drink out of the group so far this evening and crime was written all over him. Good ol’ Steve-O. Nothing more to be said about him.
Sunglasses finally spoke up. “I decided against anything with wheels for this and threw it in the back of the van, Steve-O. We can come back in the daytime tomorrow for skate shots. There are a lot less lights the farther in the park we go.”
“Knox, you IDIOT, I’m planning on being so fucking hungover tomorrow! I’m on my GAME now, man, you shoulda brought it!” He bent down to gather up two fists of snow, mash them together, and hurl the mass toward Johnny.
“If you want it so bad, go back an’ get it!” He grinned while dodging the poorly aimed snowball and jumped over to rap Steve-O on the ass with the back of his hand. This garnered a slow, deep, huffy giggling from Pontius. It was less of a giggle, more of a devious huh-huh-huh. It sounded like something you’d hear in the boys’ locker room but if it came from the throat of a grown man.
The little spanking sparked a quick scuffle between Steve-O and Johnny. After nearly slipping and falling, he gave up on trying to fuck with the taller man and hardened his resolve to skate in the snow. “UGH! I’ll be back…” After a beat of wily consideration he added, “Or not!” Steve-O then darted off in the direction of the pub, almost slipped again, and slowed his stumbling gait. If he was headed toward booze he was probably going to get another round. A round of…something.
Chris and Johnny shared a look and the Santa-hatted one asked, “Who’s going with him? It’s law that we use the buddy system in all foreign lands, especially when we don’t want to get arrested. More arrested than we get when the cameras are rolling. Those times are okay.”
Johnny spoke first. “I’ll stay to map out where Jeff thinks we can get the money shots. Y/N probably needs to mess with the camera settings.”
“Actually, yeah,” you uttered, reviving from a slight stupor of quiet observation and remembering your role in all of this. “This would be our first night footage of the trip and I haven’t experimented with the exposure or what type of flash I can—”
“Okay nerd on, genius, I’ll go,” Chris interrupted. He smiled and bowed himself out in the direction of Steve-O and the pub.
“Better hurry, Pontius! Something tells me the board ain’t the priority now,” Johnny called out. You watched as the smoke from his breath dissipated into the cold and the two of you continued away from what seemed like the rest of civilization.
********
The other men gone from sight, your physical awareness of Johnny dialed up. Though he was lean, he seemed to exude heat through his black peacoat. Maybe you were imagining things. But you dared to draw a couple inches closer to assess. He slowed his gait and you veered right back over and even sped up a little. You thought you heard a quiet laugh come from his side of the path.
‘Dammit, Y/N, fucking stay focused,’ you thought to yourself. You can’t give them anything to get you on; it was more important to you than any legal trouble. You were here to relieve Lance after one too many trips involving vomit-on-the-camera incidents. You had a job to do, you had creative input to offer, and you didn’t have to let on that you found one of the guys so hot you couldn’t stand it. That fact could be kept firmly TO YOURSELF. The need to keep it a secret almost hyped it up to an obsession. You found yourself stealing photos during planning sessions, when you were 95% certain that no one would notice. Since you were such a dedicated crew member, the team assumed you were experimenting with angles or compiling a look-book or something.
Sure, you took candids of everyone. But the most recurring subject by far was Johnny Knoxville. There were the obvious features that caught your eye, mostly when he laughed, all white teeth and crow’s feet. After a while you noticed how he stood kind of funny, whether that was from past back injuries, weak glutes, or a touch of valgus knee deformity you weren’t sure. It didn’t at all detract from the beauty of those long legs or the defined torso they led up to. Certainly didn’t ruin his painfully (for you) deep iliac furrows smack dab in the middle of it all. And you weren’t going to get started on his arms or shoulders or jawline. He really took your love for anatomy and smacked you upside the head with it. He was art and you were insane.
Your stupid little fangirl crush even had you calling him ‘Johnny Knoxville’ in your head instead of PJ. It was like how you still called your teachers ‘Mr/Ms/Mx’ after graduating from school, even though they gave you permission to be on a first-name basis. It was hard to get comfortable with others like that. Another reason why you wanted this chance at a different work environment even if it was just temporary. You sorely needed to relax, Y/N. Unclench your jaw, take a breath, stop the shoulders from migrating upwards, and just keep walking. Sometimes the set of Jackass was not the ideal setting to work on those goals—all of those damn pranks—but…
“Lost in thought, puddin’?” you heard in your ear. You didn’t so much hear them as felt the words slap your skin from behind, the shock of wet heat in the cold air startling you. The streetlamps brightened in your peripheral vision.
You spun around and couldn’t help the nervous fake-laugh that escaped. “Oh, uh, yeah, you could say that. Just handling a lot of little things right now. Like the jet-lag, that European alcohol hitting a little stronger, the cold being colder here somehow, filming schedule, the list goes on, man." You hoped adding 'man’ would lend the illusion of you being chill, cool, totally not in fight-or-flight mode a moment ago.
It didn’t. There was an awkward silence as he stood facing you. Behind the shades you couldn’t see the mischief in his eyes as he planned out where he was going to take this. To you it just looked like staring. ‘Fucking dammit,’ you swore at yourself, ‘I don’t know if he KNOWS knows but he knows something is up. Agh, focus on work, FOCUS ON WORK.’
You cleared your throat, pulled namaste out of your ass, and shifted the power of the interaction back on your side with, “Hey, why don’t you stand over by that statue and help me with shot composition.”
“Yes, boss, on the double!” His tone was playfully condescending as he headed over to the metal figure, an unknown man outlined in snow. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He let the last word drag out lower and slower than the rest. You had to fight your dead brain to let you breathe again. He was going to fuck with you, alright, and it was going to happen tonight. But for his own fun, no cameras in sight other than yours. There was always a chance of one of those goofy assholes hiding in a bush, but your gut told you there were none. No one else was going to be around for this, but you weren’t sure how thankful you were. You were flooded with several thoughts at once. How far would he go? How far did you want him to go? Did Jackass have HR? What was their policy on a creator/actor doing unspeakable things to a camera person with his mouth? Could the van be moved for about 90 minutes tonight without anyone knowing? Was he all dom or a switch? How easy would it be to get him to giggle during a blowjob?
Fuck. Focus.
‘FUCK,’ you thought as, for some ungodly reason, Knox put his tongue to the statue’s ear. The side of your neck began to tingle where his breath had been several minutes ago; memory is a powerful thing. You shook your head to regroup.
“Better pray you don’t end up like that kid in A Christmas Story,” you deadpanned.
He looked away and called out toward the woods at the edge of the park, “Nah, I’m too wet for that. That…that’s the secret.” You saw his back shuddering slightly, probably with laughter, and tried to see deeper into the trees. Not a soul was detected.
“You’ll be wetter when that statue comes to life and throws you in the river.”
He turned back toward you. “Naw, I think he likes it,” he grinned as wedged his body even closer to the metal and began to run a hand slowly down its torso. For the first time he made eye contact with you over his glasses and you dared not break it while his hand migrated further and further south. “And I think he’s not the only one, darlin’,” he drawled, his tone growing deeper and darker by the second. Two fingers began to lazily graze between the statue’s legs. And, as if that wasn’t enough, his hips ground into what had to be extremely cold and extremely hard metal. He let out a low sigh into the winter air.
This probably lasted just a moment but it felt like an eternity as you stood watching him, unable to do anything else, not quite believing what you were seeing. Your eyes were glued to where you thought his dick was, where you thought you saw an outline begin to show. He kept at it, grinding and sighing and caressing against that fucking statue, only averting his gaze to let his eyes roll back into his head and flutter shut. Which he made sure you could see with the shades slid all the way down the bridge of his nose. The whole thing was insane but you could not stop the cascade of heat and desire from building inside you. It’s like the more it shouldn’t be happening, the more you were into it. You wanted to look around and check for the crew for the umpteenth time but couldn’t tear your eyes from him. Johnny Knoxville was getting freaky on a statue to tease you and you were simmering in your own juices.
Like.
What the actual fuck?
Okay, case closed, he definitely knew.
Uhh… Just try to own it now?
“You know what, you whore?! It’s gonna be really fucking awkward when my underwear freezes out here!”
He finally broke, fell away from the statue, and dissolved into laughter on the ground. You hoped your boldness would recuperate a bit of your cred and he’d back off. (You hoped he wouldn’t back off.)
“The working conditions, here, honestly…” you said as your hands came to your hips.
His maniacal glee, normally adorable when it wasn’t tied up in such a stressful and sexy situation, died out and he regained upright footing. He didn’t bother to brush the snow off his coat or shake out what had peppered his hair. He took off his sunglasses and folded them into the inner pocket of his coat. He smiled down at you and you felt him gently grab your shoulders. “You’re so wound up, Y/N,” he remarked with genuine care in his voice.
The touch and proximity made you stiffen; your arms dropped to your sides. His breath smelled like booze and you wanted to drown in it.
His fingers laced together behind your shoulders and slid down to rest at the small of your back; you instinctively grabbed at his forearms. “Gotta learn how to relax, baby.” He jerked your lower half into him and you could feel that you had not, in fact, been imagining that dick. With that, you felt the last of your good sense rocket away, leaving a long-imprisoned whine in its wake.
He dipped his head down to your ear and growled, “How loud does that kitty purr?”
No words.
No thoughts.
Your head threatened to crack off of your spine but he caught the back of it with one hand, the other snaked firmly around the rest of you, as his lips made contact with your neck. Soft kisses were syncopated with nibbles, the heat of his mouth searing your skin in contrast to the chilly air. His tongue was so wet and so warm against your flesh. You all but dripped for him.
“Van,” you demand.
He takes your hand, grins, and leads you out of the park toward the town.
The two of you make it to the van and he takes space in the driver’s seat. The engine comes to life relatively quietly—thank god for hybrids—and he maneuvers it onto a darkened side street several blocks down. You seem to be surrounded by a bunch of businesses closed down for the night but you also don’t have a single fuck to give now. You slide a hand over the rod in his pants and his lips part with a groan.
Hunger takes hold and you lunge over the console to catch his mouth in a voracious kiss. Tongue and teeth everywhere. Even the smallest hints of pleasure out of this man are going to drive you wild tonight. But you want—you NEED—to savor the experience. The movements of your jaw slow and the space between your lips closes as you center yourself. His lips come together but his breath continues hard and deep through his nose. His eyes are shut tight as if he's exercising control as well. You pepper kisses across his cheek, down his neck, and back up to his ear where you sigh your contentment.
“Mmm, sweetheart, I’m gonna need to hear more of that,” he says low in your ear. Your belly flutters up into your chest and you think you might fall in love, like an idiot.
He kisses you deeply and pulls you with him into the back of the van. The heat of the exchange melts off both your coats. A sleeping bag is found, unzipped, and laid down. Not that the two of you notice the cold all that much, it just seems like the right thing to do in a van that carts around the Jackass crew. He is a bit more discerning than some of his co-stars.
He unzips your pants and slides them down your legs. You sit up to help kick them off along with your shoes. He takes off your shirt, leaving you just in your bra, socks, and panties. You love how exposed you must look and how vulnerable you feel. He looks you in the eye, smirks, looks down at your hips, licks his lips. Your thighs squeeze together with anticipation and your moan spells out your need.
He lowers himself down, still clothed, onto your nearly naked body and lays his lips all over your skin. He slides across you lazily and you can’t stand how good his clothes feel against you. You can’t wait for that dick to be out and in your mouth. It’s how you want to show him how good he’s making you feel. The way he takes the fabric of your panties in his fingertips tells you he has his own priorities.
“May I?”
“May you what?”
He smiles and toys with the bows stitched to the elastic around your hips. He takes the band in his teeth and looks you in the eye as he lets it snap against you.
“Eat out that pretty pussy of yours, doll. It’s all wrapped up for me like a present under the tree.”
You’re not able to make a joke about stealing Chris’s Santa hat. You can only reach down and start to wiggle the remaining cotton off, with which Knox happily helps. The bra and socks follow suit and a cheeky kiss to your foot garners a giggle.
Things get very serious again when he positions his face in front of your heat. He hugs your hips to him and rests his large hands down on you. You can’t help but buck up into the contact when his lips meet yours. His soft, wet tongue feels so fucking good. Your hands find his hair and you rake your nails through it. Every time you look down he’s either got his eyes closed, lids fluttering in the prettiest way, or he’s looking right back at you. Each moan from your mouth elicits self-assured hums from his and it drives you to desperately need more.
“Need you in me, Knox,” you demand.
He looks up at you again with those deep brown eyes and doesn’t say a word.
“Want you in my mouth first. I want to taste that dick.”
He pulls himself up and you all but tear the black and white KNOXVILLE belt through the loops of his Dickies. He frees his hard cock and you pause to take it in with your eyes first.
“It may not be the biggest but right now you got me harder than—aaughh..” The whole rest of him stiffens up and he bites into his knuckles as you take in the tip. He relaxes with a deep sigh as you try to swallow the shaft down and gag when your lips meet his hilt.
‘That’ll do just fine,’ you think to yourself.
You keep it slow to draw it out, slow but deliberate with licking and sucking. You work his cock with your mouth until you lose yourself in the act. You love every single sound this man is making and commit them to memory. And his taste, how the pre-cum doesn’t stop oozing. The way his head is thrown back with his mouth wide open, gasping. How he can’t touch you enough right now. Every few moments you turn your attention to his balls and thighs and that delicious V leading down to it all. The feel and scent of his skin is intoxicating and you’re biting light marks into his flesh. You get so far gone you stop murmuring his name and start to call him Daddy. His cock twitches every time.
He takes a deep, clarifying breath before taking your chin in his hand and speaking, “I’m so ready to slide right in, baby. Will you let Daddy fill you up?”
“Fuck me.”
The van space is tight but you lie down and he holds himself over you, cock at your entrance. You’re practically vibrating with anticipation.
Finally.
He drives the head of his cock slowly into your pussy and the feeling is so warm and sweet and intimate. Birth control be damned; you’ll get emergency contraception in the morning. Your arms and legs wrap around him possessively as he works into a rhythm. You rock your hips with his to catch his cock at the right angle. He finds your mouth in the dark and moans into you as he thrusts. He’s downright fucking you into the floor of the van and strangely you haven’t felt this whole and alive in a long time. Your orgasm is building and building but you want even more of him before you come.
“I wanna ride you, Johnny,” you gasp.
“Thought you’d never ask. Be my guest, doll,” he answers as he pulls out of you and arranges the sleeping bag across the van’s bench. He takes a seat and slaps his thighs with a grin, erection bobbing around invitingly.
You climb on top of him, legs quivering with eagerness, and take just a moment to pause before sinking slowly down onto his cock.
His answering groan draws you against his chest, sighing into him, as you get to work riding. It’s your turn to fuck him into the van.
You both wrap your arms around each other, but no one can get close enough. Thrusting, humping, clawing, kissing, biting, sucking, moaning—the two of you going at each other like animals. (His glutes are NOT, in fact, weak.) Your legs are tiring but you push yourself to keep going. Closer and closer your end nears. He knows it because his teeth are clenching as your pussy is tightening around him. He’s fighting to not cum before you.
“Don’t stop, baby, don’t stop. Keep on riding me. Keep grinding that sweet little thing on my cock.”
You pick up speed.
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
He squeezes your ass tighter.
“Good girl, I can feel it. Come for Daddy…”
That’s it. Your cunt squeezes up inside of you and smashes down around his dick in a primal, undulating frenzy. There’s an explosion of stars behind your eyelids. He’s yelling out your name and digging his fingers deeper into your hips as his orgasm spills hot inside you.
********
After unmeasured moments, breaths began to slow and a contented stillness fell over the van like snow upon the ground. The two of you wrapped each other up in an embrace and held on tight without a word. It wasn’t much longer until your brain woke back up and began to wander. You knew you were going to think back on this night many, many times when you were back home alone. You’d feel the ghost of his breath and his lips on your skin. You’d ache to hear him moan your name again. AND, FUCK, THE PLAN B--
Gentle laughter broke out, as if he could read your mind. He couldn’t, of course. But it was so very easy to tell when you were uneasy. And Knox was an excellent people reader.
“Just don’t think about anything right now, sweetheart,” he assured you.
“Johnny, I…” You began and trailed off, unsure of what to voice first.
“Call me PJ,” he smiled and placed a kiss on your head. “And don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll stop by a pharmacy soon as they open. The guys are gonna need some Tylenol, too, I bet. I’ll get us all sorted.” And he sealed his promise shut with a squeeze of your shoulders. Not a mind reader, but definitely thoughtful and at times very practical. Always aware of what’s going on around him.
You trusted him. Probably more than you should, but you did. And you gave whatever energy you had left over to the effort of not thinking. You had no idea how long it had been since you checked the time, when the sun was coming up, or what the two of you would do next. What this would mean for the rest of the shoot. But, if you’re gonna be dumb….
----------------------------------------------------------------
Several hours post-coupling in the van, after the sun came out for vengeance, you found yourself hanging with Pontius at a near-by café. You felt calmest around him out of all the crew and were happy to listen to his stories for distraction. Distraction from your anxiety and the various aches in your body. What you had really wanted was a diner that served greasy food and heinously strong coffee, but they didn’t have those here. Chris must share the need. He was still sporting the Santa hat and some serious bags under his eyes. There was what appeared to be lipstick smeared down his neck, but it was…stippled? From…the only idea that came to mind was another man’s stubble. But he never asked about the way you weren’t walking right, so you paid the favor forward.
His words drifted away from big cats and other wildlife, and he shifted conversation topics. “Crazy night last night, huh,” he said.
“Lord. You bet,” you answered. Oh, here we go.
“What time did you turn in last night? Or this morning?” He batted his lashes and played with the cotton puff at the end of his hat before flipping it to the other side. It invoked the atmosphere of girlies at a sleepover sharing the latest gossip.
“Oh, you know…” Your face reddened a little and you looked down into your steaming coffee mug.
He brought his up to his mouth for a sip and stared you down over it. “Do you happen to know where—"
Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you pulled it out automatically.
“Hey, doll, where did you run off to?” Your heartbeat quickened and you smirked despite yourself. You didn’t need to look up at the sender to know who it was from.
“Know where what,” you offered with no doubt a dazed look in your eyes.
You were definitely going to need a therapist after this job was through.
#johnny knoxville x reader#afab reader#jackass fanfic#jackass smut#johnny knoxville fanfic#dude tumblr WILL NOT let me use the formatting that i want wtf
279 notes
·
View notes
Text
TMA Encore #11a
The group walks timorously through the tunnels with Not-Martin. Sasha has the map this time. Jon and Tim bring up the rear with Tim holding the flashlight. Martin, in the middle, cautiously occupies the space between them and Not-Martin. He has the second flashlight.
Not-Martin recounts the day he and Not-Jon first realized they had a second chance and a duty to prevent the apocalypse. They reasoned that if they couldn’t stop what had happened to their world from in the thick of it, they would have a better shot coming at it from the outside. They had tried to be subtle at first, so as not to disrupt the lives of those involved. Despite their best efforts, it ended just as badly as before. So, they tried again and have been trying ever since. They became more and more adamant until they were inserting themselves right in the middle of things–with little more success. It took them a long time to figure out how the rules they knew applied to their situation. They hadn’t realized there was a new consequence for overtaking avatars.
NM: I couldn’t feel it until his hold over it started to slip. By then, it was too late.
Silence fills the corridor as the team studies Not-Martin. They let his story settle into the air, waiting to see what he’ll say if he thinks it wasn’t enough to convince them. He says nothing and keeps walking, not even looking at them.
Jon: But the Fears aren’t controlling him. That’s not how it works. He’s doing this himself.
NM: It’s the pain. Without an entire world of people to feed on, the Fears are starving to death. They pass the feeling on to us to motivate us. I don’t think they’re picky about which of us gets to be their avatar at this point, but Jon’s been keeping their attention on him this whole time.
Sasha: Why?
NM: To spare me and hold himself accountable for what happened at the end.
Sasha: No, I mean… I can understand pain making a person a little irrational. But this is so premeditated and extreme.
NM: That’s the problem. He thinks that he’s mastered it. So he takes warning signs as encouragement. To feel assured that he’s still himself.
Martin recalls the time he spent with his mother through her chronic illness. She had often worded it exactly that way when he couldn’t get her to rest. Not-Martin slips a knowing glance at him.
Tim: And manipulating and tormenting people is just part of retaining his fundamental character, apparently.
The words are already out by the time Tim remembers Jon is walking right beside him in the dark.
Tim: I just–I meant that he didn’t have to do it this way.
Not-Martin doesn’t reply.
Martin’s double further exposits that Not-Jon can’t be allowed to pursue his goal any further than he already has. Even if he does manage to prevent the apocalypse, the vacuum created by the consumed avatars would inevitably be too much. He would fully succumb to the need to satisfy his hunger.
Tim: And he’ll, what, become as big a fear monster as Jonah?
NM: Oh, he’s already a lot bigger than Jonah. I’m terrified to think what that much power would look like manifested. That is, if he doesn’t die first and leave it all with me.
Tim: Joy.
Sasha: So, what’s your solution?
NM: Convince him to share the burden with me and entomb the both of us in the nearest, deepest hole in the ground before anything else can happen.
Tim: So, your original plan. Which you’ve tried before?
NM: Many times.
Tim: And why will it work now?
NM: Because it’s the only option. It’s just a matter of trial and error.
Tim: Uh-huh. Then again, if you’re a Fear ghost like him, then we shouldn’t be listening to what either of you say, should we?
NM: *shrugs* I’d agree if I didn’t know that my Jon has it a hundred times worse than I do. Your odds with me are much better.
Tim: Which could be a lie.
NM: If it were, you’d have no reason to believe any of what I’ve said so far.
He answers the interrogation readily and casually, though not as if he’d rehearsed it.
Jon shakes off his precaution to ask a burning question.
Jon: Am I really what makes things fall apart every time?
NM: I’m sure that my Jon would like you to think so. It’s much more complicated than that. He’s just punishing you for things you haven’t done yet.
A little irritation creeps into his voice. It’s also the first plainly obfuscated thing he’s said so far, Jon notices.
Jon: It never made a difference to remove me from the equation?
NM: Again, it’s complicated. We ended up agreeing not to.
The group continues to ask questions about the details and history of the situation, especially things that Not-Jon prescribed to them as truth and things that he refused to tell them. Not-Martin answers all of it politely and patiently enough, giving no sign of duress or deception. There are no earth-shattering revelations. It only cements the places where Not-Jon and Not-Martin’s perspectives overlap. Whether or not he’s telling the truth, it’s comforting to get clear answers without the immediate pressure to cooperate for once. In fact, it gets Sasha’s attention.
Sasha: Are we… expected to help in your plan?
NM: No. It doesn’t really matter what any of you do from this point forward.
They ask him to elaborate. He says that their part in Not-Jon’s plan is over. In scenarios where they stay in the tunnels or the archives, they’re penned so that they can’t interfere. When they leave, they’re unable to change the outcome at all and are left to deal with Jonah’s machinations once he escapes. There’s nothing they can do.
Tim: Wait, yes we can. Don’t we still have the lighter?
Everyone turns to Jon. As he wraps his fingers loosely around the device still in his pocket, he feels the tiny piece of plastic he took from Jonah’s office. He nods.
Tim: If the fuse is long enough, we could light the dynamite on our way out and do away with the lot of them while they’re chasing each other around down there.
Not-Martin scratches his chin thoughtfully.
NM: I can’t say it’s been done before. But I won’t object as long as I’m down there with them.
Sasha: Have we tried it before?
NM: Yes.
The group’s optimism deflates.
NM: Sorry. I’m not sure what gets in the way. I don’t usually stop to talk to you guys.
Martin: Have you come close before?
NM: Very.
Martin: How? It sounds like he’d be untouchable at this point.
NM: Because he can’t scare me. None of this does anymore.
Martin studies his counterpart. It’s not just talk. He’s steady. Dispassionate, but not overly calm. The determination with which he described his task betrayed a steep understanding of the consequences for failure. Yet, he approaches the ordeal ahead as if going to do laundry. It’s kind of terrifying. Martin feels like he’s watching an alien creature walk around with his face painted on it. His memories inside it. Although, wouldn’t it make sense to need an alien to combat an alien threat? He wonders if this is how Jon felt meeting his other self.
He checks on Jon, who has his eyes turned toward the tunnels as they pass. Martin just then notices how deep and rhythmic the murmuring noise has become. Almost like chugging movement.
~
The group arrives at the dynamite area. There are still boxes strewn about with leftover materials in them–including plenty of fuse that could be tied on. The tunnel leading out is situated opposite some others that lead down to the Panopticon. The four of them nonverbally determine that it’s time to decide whether to stay or go. Meanwhile, Not-Martin examines the prison remains, looking for anomalies.
The vote is not as quick as before.
Martin, unexpectedly, is the one to pipe up first. He wants to stay and try to stop Not-Jon. He feels that the stakes are too steep not to try. Tim and Sasha argue against it, and he defends his choice. Not-Jon could easily stop the dynamite from working just as he stopped them from escaping. Whether Jonah escapes or doesn’t, they’re likely doomed if they just leave. They’re stuck no matter what. He doesn’t want to feel like he didn’t try to push back when he could have, especially after everything Not-Jon has put them through already. At the very least, it would give him another thing to have to manage.
Martin’s voice shakes even as he says it out loud, but he manages to hold himself in place.
Tim is quick to remind him that they don’t have a hearty reason to trust Not-Martin. Martin proclaims that he might then be trying to get rid of them. The one thing they can say for certain is that Jonah and Not-Jon are too dangerous to be left to their own devices.
His anxiety prompts him to keep talking, but he makes himself leave it there.
Jon quickly says that he’s staying too.
The others fall into silence. Sasha visibly wavers in two minds before letting out her breath.
Tim: Sasha, no.
Sasha: Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I’m with Martin. But just barely.
She says she’s getting tired of trying to take the safe route on purpose, only for them to wind up getting separated and nearly killed anyway. If there is no good sane way out, as Martin had said, their only way is through.
To be fair, Tim does look at them as if they’ve all gone insane.
Tim: I’m not saying we do nothing. Even he knows it--*gestures at Not-Martin* --we’re not gonna be able to do anything about this if we’re in the middle of it. If the dynamite doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.
NM: No, you won’t.
Tim: You be quiet.
Try as he might, Tim can’t convince them to change their minds. He stands there, unable to follow but unwilling to leave them behind to die.
The vague rumbling ramps up and draws close. The walls around them begin to shift, but not like in an earthquake. Stone and cement slide frictionlessly over one another with heavy clicking sounds. The floor is perfectly stable aside from some vibrations. The walls of the exit tunnel and the one they came from advance inward, herding the occupants further into the junction of passages. Not-Martin glares at someone who’s not in the room.
NM: Oh, goddamn it, Jon.
Jon leaps through a nearby passage before it closes.
Goddamn it, Jon, Martin thinks.
The others move to catch him, but there isn’t enough clearance by the time he gets there. The clamorous stone is so loud, they can’t hear each other. But they can make out Jon mouthing “I’m sorry” in the feeble light of the spider web lighter just before the gap closes.
------------
Next
Prev
First
(I forgot what I was doing and gave Sasha the second flashlight in the third page. Pretend Martin has it.)
Index
#the magnus archives#mag200 spoilers#magnus pod#tma fancomic#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#sasha james#tim stoker#not-martin#the spiral#tma encore 11#tma encore 11a#cw blood#cw claustrophobia
130 notes
·
View notes
Note
have a few questions for u! i loved your latest chapter, i believe it’s my favourite one to date together with the yule ball special :)
01. since u’re writing a (very intense) re-write of book 1 to 7 canon, how happy/sad were you about draco’s arc in the books and films? it always bugged me that him and the slytherins didn’t get to shine that much in both aspects, and that’s why we never really got to appreciate them a lot when the books and films came out. would love to hear your take on this!
02. not sure if this has been asked before, but what thing/s inspired you to write lionheart? i recall reading it was because of your love for to all the young dudes, but i’d love to hear you talk about this more
03. if j* r****** weren’t as awful a person as she was (and so terribly closed minded too) do you think there would have been a way for draco and hermione to be together in canon, or at least be some level of friends, if not together romantically?
04. i’m a narcissa black-malfoy apologist and stan, and can i just say, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for writing her in such a beautiful and heartbreaking way. i cannot wait to see how you write her arc in books 5-7.
05. an absolute, absolute shot in the dark - but since friday’s last update was sort of a cliff hanger - would you be open to a double update or an earlier than usual update this week? we aren’t entitled to anything but i swear to you, i was biting my nails and at the edge of my seat fr the minute i ran to the friday update. draco and sirius’s conversation was too real and too beautiful i sobbed so much.
i love you!!! may the universe bless you with all the good karma (is my boyfriend, is a god, is the breeze in my hair on the weekend)!!!
hello! thank you for all the questions, wow!! will probably answer some in separate posts because tumblr usually censors my craft glitches out when i write long asks BUT
how happy/sad were you about draco’s arc in the books and films?
[looks at 400,000 words of AU fic about draco's arc] oh yeah i feel normal and care a regular amount about it
Man, it makes me sad. It makes me sad that almost all the Death Eaters are also children of Death Eaters, establishing this as a familial cycle of violence and hatred, and that's just... left to sit there in the narrative, implicating.
Draco’s arc in particular is a flat downward descent from schoolyard bully into a fascist death cult, and it’s bleak as fuck. like, if these books are written from Draco’s POV, it is some gruesome and deeply cynical stuff, guaranteed. which is a shame, because I think “reluctant and begrudging reformed villain” is an amazing character type that he could have fulfilled perfectly. doesn’t even have to go on tour with the Golden Trio, either; because I lost hope for Redemption Arc after the end of book 6, my ideal world going into book 7 was just having Draco stuck in Grimmauld Place, being bitchy and ill-tempered about the Order’s witness-protection equivalent, while the others treat him like a house-elf. “oh, yeah, that’s Draco, he used to bully us but now he has to ask us to buy the tea he likes at the grocer’s,” etc. I mean, full redemption would have been great, and by far the most rewarding for him/me personally as a reader, but I kind of figured by the end of HBP that it wasn’t in the cards. JKR writes characters in a particular way when she’s interested in them as people, and Draco was just never written with that level of attention or care.
he’s not even given a particularly rewarding antagonist arc. he doesn’t follow through and kill Dumbledore, thus giving him something irrevocable and life-scarring to repent for; but neither does he join the Order (e.g., Disappearance), meaning his ultimate contribution to the war effort is just this listless, choiceless trend of enabling. he’s forced into the plot with the Vanishing Cabinet, but can't kill Dumbledore; he tries to hide Harry’s identity from Bellatrix in Book 7, but it doesn’t work; he tries to catch Harry in the Room of Requirement and fails, then has to be saved by Harry from fiendfyre his own incompetent sidekick conjured. cringe failson. it’s also hilarious put in contrast with this fanon we have of hypercompetent draco — it’s like we all saw him and were like god bless can we please get this man a skillset. jesus christ he is getting killed out here.
but anyway tbh I think the most character development we see from him in all 7 novels is when Hermione slaps the shit out of him in POA (call that spell of Shutting the Fuck Up the way he doesn't even try to retaliate). The bathroom scene in book 6 is huge, because it’s the first time we get a modicum of sympathy for him, but that’s not followed up on — we just sort of leave him with “yeah, that’s tough.” we don’t even know why the Malfoys go back to Voldemort, because by all accounts, they seem miserable. Lucius seems miserable even before he hits his Flop Era in book 6-7, but he’s also broadly miserable all the time when we see him (likely bc we only see him when he’s plotting/scheming/exploding in rage when Harry manages to yet again Scooby Doo one of his plots, but who knows). I think the seventh book subtly implies the Malfoys are so close with Voldemort because of Bellatrix, and [spoilers incoming] I myself lean heavily on that thread in later sequences in Lionheart, but in the books it’s up to the reader as to how much the Malfoys really believe in the Dark Lord versus just comply with his orders from fear.
#greenteacup asks#draco malfoy#lionheart#thank you! i hope karma is a relaxing thought <3#sweet like honey etc etc
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh my god I just thought of a character/universe crossover with Trigun that probably no one will get cause ive never seen anyone talk about the other series BUT that being said!
Trigun crossover/AU with Kino No Tabi (The Beautiful World)
(Personally I’m thinking of the first volume of the light novels English translation over the manga or anime. Cause that’s what rewrote my brain in high school. Like genuinely impacted me in a way no piece of writing ever had.)
Like truly I can see so clearly where Wolfwood has Hermes and they travel together, and then at some point they pick up Vash. Or even the other way around and there's finally a universe where Vash can drive a motorcycle.
The ideological and moral HELLFIRE that Vash would go through visiting The Land of Majority Rule or The Land of Peace! How would Vash and Wolfwood handle the Coliseum? Could Vash take that shot? Would he have even conceived of anything like that plan? Would Wolfwood have to do it instead?
There is crossover with the philosophy of both books/series in regards to how the world is a mess and sometimes a bloody horrible mess but it is still worth saving. Not to mention how both main characters are constantly traveling and dealing with both the joy and tragedy of everything. As the front page of Kino No Tabi says:
The world is not beautiful, therefore it is.
(further random info and links below the readmore including the prologue of Kino No Tabi which really will help you understand what I'm on about here)
In case any Trigun people want to join me in this, here’s a link to the only pdf I could find on where you can read the story I’m talking about. If you like the moral and philosophical discussions and implications of Trigun this will be so up your alley. The link above is a google drive link I can personally vouch for.
Here is the prologue as promised. The vibe is just. Just read it and trust me.
And then there was darkness.
There was no light. No moon, no stars. Only the sound of the wind in the trees, wafting through the darkness.
"You know… it's kind of like…" Kino trailed off. A contemplative silence followed. Or perhaps sleep.
"Kind of like what?" Hermes asked.
"I sometimes wonder if I'm really just a terrible person. Sometimes I feel like I am. Sometimes, it actually makes sense that I am. Because I can't change things; or worse – I just tell myself I can't, so I don't. But whenever I get like that – feeling terrible, I mean –everything else – the world, the people I meet – it all becomes incredibly beautiful to me. I fall in love with it. That's why I keep traveling – because I want to experience more. Because sometimes, I get to see some good. Maybe even do some good."
Kino paused to entertain another thought. "Still, I know if I keep on moving, I'll always see more sadness, more tragedy –experience more sadness and tragedy."
"But if you experience it – if you know it's tragic – how can you be a terrible person? Terrible people don't experience other people's pain… do they?"
"I don't know. I only know it doesn't mean I'm going to stop traveling. I love traveling, and even though I see so much death – even though I have to kill people sometimes – I want to keep doing it. And…"
"And?"
"I can stop anytime." Kino's tone was resolute. "So I keep going… You see?"
"Honestly? Not really."
"Oh. Well, that's okay."
"You sure? I mean, it helps if we're of one mind about things…"
"How can I expect you to understand it if I don't? And I don't. Not really. I'm still confused, Hermes. And in order to find my way out of this confusion, I keep traveling." As if there were a road that led away from it.
"Ah…"
"I'm going to sleep. We've got a long way to go tomorrow. Good night, Hermes."
"Good night, Kino."
Thick cloth softly rustled, and then utter silence filled the darkness again.
The formatting of the pdf is not the best but I double checked it against my hard copy that it is the correct translation. Specifically it is volume 1 as it was the only one to get an official translation.
#trigun#trigun maximum#trigun stampede#kino no tabi#kinos journey#random dribble#if you know Kino and get what I am saying here know I love you and appreciate you
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
OM Characters Drinks From The New Cafe I Work At!
I work at another cafe, this isnt local, it is a chain, it is a Canadian chain, but its not Tim Hortons. 1000000 points to whoever knows what it is leggo (no seasonal drinks...that I’m aware of?)
Lucifer: Just dark roast drip, black. When he’s feeling fancy he gets a triple shot flat white, sometimes with a shot of sugar free hazelnut flavouring.
Mammon: Based on colour? Italian soda with citrus flavouring. On taste? This boy is a basic bitch, but he can’t handle caffeine, so its a decaf iced vanilla bean latte with oat milk, yknow to maintain his model physique.
Levi: Elderflower lemonade! It both fits his colour scheme and I imagine he likes citrus quite a bit!
Satan: Matcha tea latte. Helps with his focus aksdkagdja
Asmodeus: Strawberry Italian soda - both in taste and and appearance lmao, it is his guilty pleasure, though a honey vanilla tea latte with oat milk is his next favourite, then the vanilla bean latte....and the list goes on and onnnnn
Beelzebub: mmmm I gotta say I struggled, but I wanna say Green Mango Boost smoothie bc we add protein to it lmao
Belphie: Just for shits and giggles, this man is lactose intolerant. He gets a lactose free mocha- just as cozy as it is an awakening.
Diavolo: Is it any surprise the the drink I invented for myself is gonna be the one I assign to him? It shouldn’t be lmaoooo. I love him and I love the drink, it was inspired by Raspberry Cordial (if you know what that is I’m kissing your head), the way I make it is a total of four pumps of raspberry flavouring, two of the citrus flavouring in a large cup. its an Italian Soda, which means it doesn’t mess with caffeine/ADHD, and this is less sweet version lmao, large Italian sodas are supposed to have a total of 12 pumps of whatever syrup, I don’t recommend getting that many aslkhdlask
Barbatos: Just matcha tea with a little splash of soy milk. If he needs more caffeine, TRUST me, you will see it, maybe because he takes it like a shot. He steeps green tea in a double shot of espresso kashdkhsa
Mephistopheles: Stumped. I’m giving him frozen hot chocolate.
Simeon: He has either green tea to focus, with honey and a little oat milk, or he has a decaf caramel latte with oat or skim milk.
Raphael: ....I don’t think he has experimented with much before, so he just...he gets white hot chocolate and very very hesitantly agrees to have a flavour added to it so long as its unsweetened. Also...he gets it with coconut milk?
Luke: Loves most of the Italian sodas! He loves the flexibility of being able to choose a new flavour every time.
Thirteen: Wifey is a chaos entity but her drink is a white hot chocolate with two pumps of strawberry flavouring because it tastes like drinking chocolate covered strawberries.
Solomon: Only a monster would drink chocolate chip cookie dough Italian soda, so he is the one to drink it.
#v talks#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me shall we date?#obey me swd#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me beel#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me mephistopheles#obey me simeon#obey me raphael#obey me luke#obey me thirteen#obey me solomon
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Caustic: An Origin Story
Caustic/Alexander Nox x Original Female Character
Rating: 18+
Chapter 4
We walked mostly in silence through the almost empty streets, it was comfortable aside from the chill in the air. My ribs and hip still ached and I knew it was slowing me down marginally, but Nox didn’t say anything at all.
As it turned out, he lived fairly well, in the quieter part of town (that usually meant the wealthier). I rolled my eyes and he chuckled after introducing me as his friend to the guard outside the apartment building. He gestured for me to enter the lift first, it was almost the size of my bedroom.
‘I could sleep in this.’ I commented.
‘I’d rather you didn’t, I believe my apartment would be more comfortable.’ Where was the cheek earlier in the evening?
‘So, are we heading to the penthouse then? Or just the top floor?’ I decided to mock him, an attempt to ease the tension.
‘I’m afraid not,’ he chuckled, tension eased. ‘I live on the twenty-second floor, several below the penthouse which is owned by the director of the Apex Games.’
‘Oh, only twenty-two, huh? Not such a big shot then.’ I teased.
‘I assure you, I could easily have chosen a higher floor.’
‘Well, thank goodness you’re humble.’
We laughed until the lift came to a stop on the twenty-second floor. Nox led me out to see a well decorated hallway with only two doors. I could just about see the view through the small window from the centre of the hallway, all that was visible were the glittering lights of downtown.
‘There’s a better view inside.’ Nox said, noting my distraction.
I followed him into the spacious and glassy living area, the floor was a dark wood with white rugs scattered everywhere. The grey fabric corner sofa seemed to sit in the middle of the floor facing a large television which was still playing reruns of Nox’s last game, the highlights were minimal, but he must have found them useful. I could just about see the open plan kitchen where a protein shake was sitting waiting to be drunk, maybe he wasn’t in the middle of a workout when I arrived.
In any case, what I had seen of his apartment was incredibly impressive.
‘Can I take your silence as approval?’ Nox suddenly said, watching me. I realised my mouth was slightly open and I wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction.
‘No.’ I said defiantly, folding my arms. Nox laughed, knowing I didn’t mean it and I was just being stubborn.
‘Perhaps if you take my offer of a shower, it might change your mind?’
‘I swear, if you’ve got a bathtub that I can swim in, I’m going to ask for a pay rise as a matter of principal.’
‘Maybe not swim…’ he said and led me towards the bathroom which again was hugely spacious with grey marble surfaces, mirrors everywhere and a tub the size of a double bed in the centre of the room. The shower itself was half the size, but easy to walk into and possibly get lost. ‘Impressed?’ Nox asked again.
‘Okay, so let’s talk about my raise.’ I chuckled, making him do the same. ‘I cannot believe people really live like this.’
‘It’s an acquired taste, I’ve found.’
‘I’m sure I can acquire your tastes, Dr Nox.’
‘I would prefer you call me Alexander in my own home, or Alex would be satisfactory.’ He was frowning. ‘I don’t like bringing my work home with me… it’s the only rule I have.’
‘Fair enough.’ I really couldn’t argue, this was his home so I may as well have gotten used to using his first name. ‘So, are you just going to watch me get naked? Or do I get some privacy?’
‘As tempting as it is, I feel there is a right and wrong answer.’ I could see the faint blush once again creeping over his cheeks. ‘I will leave you in peace. You’ll find everything you need in here.’ He gently placed my duffel bag down and left me to shower.
I wasn’t exactly sure where to start, I was desperate to get clean, but it took a while to work out how the various dials and knobs worked, one was for hot, another for cold, another for power, but another seemed to change the angle the water came out at and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would need so many variables.
The shower was to die for, it was just the right temperature, it hit my skin in the right way and it just felt so wonderful. I never wanted to leave, but I would eventually have to come out and re-join the world.
I wasn’t sure what came over me, but I decided to explore the bathroom a little and through some uncharacteristic action, I opened up what looked like a medicine cupboard and saw the usual, toothpaste, brush and suspiciously unused looking shaving tools. There was also a blank, white pill bottle with the letters ‘APHR’ in black capitals on it. I didn’t dare pick it up, or open it, but I was curious about what was in it and why it looked untouched with a very thin layer of dust over the cap.
I closed the cupboard and changed into a fresh white t-shirt and loose black joggers, tying my long, blonde hair up into a loose bun. I wandered out of the bathroom, closing the door, only to turn into the bare chest of Dr Nox, I immediately felt my face inflate red.
‘Sorry.’ I said, not really sure of why.
‘That’s quite alright,’ he said, I noticed he was carrying his black t-shirt in his hands. ‘Did you enjoy your shower?’ It was only then that I noticed the shape he was in, it was phenomenal, my boss was a specimen. His hips were narrow, stomach bulging with muscle, broad chest with a thin patch of hair layered over it, shoulders that curved into his excessively large arms and suddenly my throat was dry.
‘It was obscene.’ I rolled my eyes, once again folding my arms and trying my best to seem like my normal self. ‘Kind of like your… chest.’
‘My chest?’ He frowned, smiling somewhat.
‘You’ve got too many muscles, what the hell do you need them for?’
‘Structure, mostly.’ Nox looked down at himself, sorting his t-shirt before putting it on. ‘Is that better?’
‘I mean, I didn’t say put it on.’ I winked and made him laugh loudly once again.
‘I’m afraid this is an equal rights home, you may not want me to take my shirt off again.’ Damn, this man had banter. I just shook my head and laughed with him as he gestured for me to head back into the kitchen where he had cleared most of the surfaces. ‘Can I interest you in some tea?’
‘Sure, if you’re making some.’ I smiled and hopped up onto one of the stools while he went about making us both some tea. His shirt was especially tight and even his back muscles could be seen through it. Once again, I felt myself swallowing and trying to look anywhere that wasn’t at Dr Nox. ‘I still can’t believe you know how to take orders and make tea.’
He chuckled and turned to face me, leaning on the counter. ‘I am man of considerable talent.’
‘And once again, you demonstrate that you are also incredibly humble.’ I smiled, teasing him, but suddenly my mind was cast back to the bottle in his medicine cupboard.
He watched me curiously. ‘Something wrong?’
‘No, I’m just thinking.’ It wasn’t dishonest and he could see that, but he wasn’t exactly convinced.
‘May I ask what about?’
‘You can ask.’
‘Will you tell me?’ Nox leaned on his forearms and watched me more intently than before.
I actually debated asking him about the bottle, but chickened out last minute. ‘Why are you so buff?’ I pretended to be curious to make him laugh, but it only half worked.
‘I participate in the Apex Games on occasion, I enjoy the sport and in order to have a real chance at victory, I need to ensure my body is in prime condition.’
‘The sport of shooting other people and pretending to be someone you’re not?’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘What’s the other way?’
Nox stood up and turned to finish making the tea. He placed the black, matte mug in front of me and wandered around to sit opposite me, his whole frame dwarfing mine, not that I was particular big anyway. ‘The other way,’ he started, resting one foot on the floor, the other on the foot rung while he ran his hand over his thick, dark beard. ‘Is to understand that in the Games you can’t die, not really. To come so close to death and feel the exhilaration of holding another life in your hands is an adrenaline rush, one I like to enjoy within the safety of the Games.’
I thought on his words for a moment. He was an adrenaline junkie, everyone who participated in the Games was one of sorts, but Nox actually enjoyed the concept of death vs life to a degree I’d never thought about before. Life was precious to me. Death was fascinating to him.
‘You seem disappointed.’ Nox said, breaking my thoughts.
‘I don’t know if disappointed is the right word.’ I said, honestly. ‘Surprised maybe… I think I just never thought about it before and if I did, that wasn’t the answer I thought you’d give.’
‘What did you think I would say?’
‘I’m honestly not sure.’ I shook my head.
‘I don’t undervalue life,’ his pale eyes bore into mine. ‘Please do not think that I don’t value the life that I have or the lives around me. The question of death has fascinated many people for years, this is just my expression of it.’
Well, that made sense I supposed. It wasn’t so much that he enjoyed people dying, more the question of how, the process, the mental, the physical, the spiritual even. He wondered why and what happened after you died. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I initially thought.
‘That wasn’t the question on your mind.’ Nox could see I was no longer showing the same expression and smiled at me gently. ‘Is there something else you wish to know?’
I thought about it for a moment and decided to just tell him the truth, he never cared that I went through his stuff at work, but I figured that was mostly because I wouldn’t understand any of it, this was a bit different.
‘What does APHR stand for?’ I leaned on my hand observed him as his face suddenly emptied of all colour, had I gone too far?
Nox cleared his throat and suddenly the colour came rushing back to his cheeks as he half laughed. ‘It doesn’t stand for anything,’ he sipped his tea. ‘It’s just a shortened version of the word.’
‘What word?’ I frowned, suddenly realising I may have gone too far.
‘Aphrodisiac.’ He grinned, his face still blushing furiously.
I felt my jaw drop for a number of reasons. ‘You actually have an aphrodisiac? Wait, why do you have that sitting in a bottle in your bathroom? Have you ever used it on anyone? You haven’t secretly used it on me, have you? Did you make it yourself?’
Nox laughed and looked at the floor for a moment, fiddling with his hands. ‘Yes. Because where else would I keep it? Yes, a few times. I would never without permission. And yes, I did.’
‘Does it actually work?’
‘Yes.’ Nox was still grinning and blushing, but he wasn’t refusing to answer any questions.
‘How well?’ I narrowed my eyes at him.
‘It needed some modification in the beginning,’ he explained. ‘But eventually I found a good balance.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘The early stages proved to be… somewhat painful.’ I could see him praying for me to understand. ‘The subject would reach a state of arousal for a much longer period of time and at a much higher intensity than desired.’
‘Ah, I get it.’ I nodded and sipped the surprisingly good tea.
‘Eventually, I was able to bring the effects down enough to last only a few hours at a moderate intensity.’
‘A few hours?!’ I exclaimed. ‘Jeez, who are you shagging for hours on end, a bloody robot?!’
‘She was a little difficult at times, yes.’ I could see there was something painful sitting in his chest as Nox took another mouthful of tea.
‘I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be asking all these questions.’
‘No, it’s fine. It’s nice to see you smiling and excited about something that I can take an interest in as well.’ Nox’s gaze flickered over my face as he continued to smile at me. ‘May I ask what led you to looking inside my medicine cabinet?’
It was my turn to flush. ‘I got curious.’ I half shrugged, taking a gulp of tea in an attempt to hide my reddening cheeks.
‘You got curious?’ His eyebrows flickered upwards, so I shrugged again. ‘In that case, I would like to ask a more personal question.’
‘I had a feeling that was coming.’ I sighed and nodded.
‘I think it’s only fair.’ He reasoned and I couldn’t disagree. ‘Tell me about the last time you had sex.’
My face hurt it was so red. ‘The last time I had sex? Why?’
‘For research purposes.’ Nox shrugged, giving me a reason that was clearly not the actual one.
‘No, no, no, if we’re going to have an honest conversation, you can’t lie about why you want to know.’ I was putting my foot down. ‘All I did was snoop about a bit, I didn’t ask you anything about you actually having sex.’
‘The last time I had sex was with a woman who insisted on taking the aphrodisiac pills I created just so she could stand being with me.’ I was silent. ‘It was the same process every time, she wanted to impress another man with her skill, she used me to practice with as well as test her own limits… I had little else to do with my time.’
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything that would feel right. Nothing came to mind, I had so many questions, suddenly I was seeing Dr Nox in a new light, one I never even considered him having before.
‘She didn’t really want to be with you?’ It was the first thing that left my mouth.
‘No, she didn’t enjoy the way I look… it’s a common complaint and one I’m well used to.’
‘You mean she didn’t enjoy the hundreds of muscles you have just in your one arm?’
At least that made him chuckle. ‘That was something she could bear, but she disliked more than just my exterior. She was a very sexual being and I could provide what she needed sexually and no more.’
‘But I don’t understand.’ I frowned. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you… I mean, you’ve got a bit of a temper, but you’re not unattractive or anything… what the hell was wrong with her? Why would she do that to you? Why would you let her?’
Nox just sat smiling. ‘You seem a little upset.’
‘I am upset!’ I really was and I wasn’t sure that was being made clear. ‘You can’t just treat people like that, like they’re just playthings for you to do with as you please.’
‘Some people like being playthings.’
‘Well… yeah, I guess, but if you’re in a relationship or whatever, then it’s different.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘I suppose, sometimes, but that’s not the point I’m making! I’m trying to say that you don’t deserve to be treated like that and you shouldn’t accommodate these people just because you’re bored, they’ll only take advantage.’
Nox watched me with a more intense eye. ‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘I won’t let anyone treat me like that again.’
‘Good.’ I sighed and took another mouthful of tea to calm down a little, I don’t know why it made me so angry. Nox just continued to watch me for a moment or two.
‘Now, will you tell me about the last time you had sex? I believe I’ve revealed more than enough information to warrant something from you.’ He was back to grinning.
My face inflated red once again and I just half laughed thinking about how awful it really was.
‘Erm… we were drunk,’ I started. ‘It was just after I was treated and diagnosed, I was just upset and needed cheering up.’
‘Did it help?’
I shook my head. ‘No… it’s not like either of us were really into it, he didn’t really want to… do anything and I just wanted it to be over.’
‘What did he not want to do? Specifically?’
‘Specifically?’ I laughed, shaking my head. ‘Anything that I liked or wanted really.’
We sat silently for a moment, both of us just taking everything in. I felt his hand come up to my face and gently wipe away a tear that I barely knew had fallen.
‘Why did you want to know?’
‘Because, I’m curious.’ At least that made us both smile.
‘You know curiosity killed the cat.’
‘What cat?’ He frowned.
‘I don’t know, its just old saying.’ I shrugged and he left it there. ‘Wait a second, you asked if I like being someone’s plaything!’
‘I did.’ Nox grinned again. ‘And you said, sometimes.’
‘Well, then, as per equal rights, you can answer the same question.’ I demanded, not quite knowing how this conversation had actually started and why we were being so upfront about these things.
‘I prefer to be the one playing.’ He admitted, thoughtfully.
For just a moment we both stayed silent, watching each other. His pale eyes scanned me a few times, making my cheeks blush.
‘Are we flirting now?’ I asked, still not able to rid my face of a smile.
‘I believe we have been for a long time.’ Nox nodded and finished his tea. I frowned. ‘Your personality is refreshing and we’ve never had a dishonest conversation. We make each other laugh at the other’s expense, I don’t mind being myself around you, I believe I have learnt far more from you than I anticipated as well.’
‘Well, I’m a great teacher, so that’s no surprise.’
‘That’s true.’ He nodded.
‘Out of curiosity,’ we both chuckled. ‘What have you learnt from me?’
‘That tolerance is not a precursor to love.’ He said, almost immediately. ‘Passion and joy are the only factors that matter.’ Nothing could have prepared me for what he said next. ‘I certainly feel joy when you are around.’
I felt my mouth open of its own accord. I was only half sure of what he was saying, was he saying what I thought he might have been saying? Did he know what he meant? Did I know what he meant? Was he simply saying he enjoyed my company? That I was a good assistant? Was there another reason I was in his home?
‘You’re thinking very fast.’ Nox observed and brought me out of my panic. ‘I said something that you’re unhappy with.’ He concluded and I could see a small amount of sadness creeping into his expression.
‘Not… not unhappy.’ I said. ‘I don’t know what I think… I never considered the possibility before.’
‘That I could enjoy your company this much?’ He clarified and I nodded. ‘Would you consider it now?’ Did he mean that very second? It was a lot to think about! ‘Perhaps we could discuss it together?’
‘Wait… just wait a moment.’ I stopped him. ‘I just want to clarify what you’re saying before I think about anything.’
He took a deep breath, before speaking, thinking on each word he was about to utter. ‘I am quite certain that I’m falling in love with you.’
Well… it was clearer at least. I stayed silent for far longer than I intended, just thinking about every conversation we’d ever had where I might have picked up on hints or subtleties or anything at all that may have indicated that he felt that way.
Almost every conversation where we had been social, was one where he laughed, but that was just because he was relaxed, he was in a place where he didn’t have to be anyone but himself and his work was either being taken care of, or not a concern at that moment. Was that what he was talking about? Or was it something else?
And how did I feel about him? I liked him, he was a likable man as far as I was concerned, sure he had a little danger in him, but he was a six foot four man who competed in the Apex Games, of course, he was dangerous, he needed to be. Was I attracted to him? He was handsome, sure, an absolute specimen as I’d recently discovered, he had a nice attitude towards me, I never denied that. But was it attraction? I looked up at him and observed him for a moment or two, his expression seemed to be one of patience and confusion.
‘It worries me that you have remained silent.’ He stated gently.
‘I’m sorry.’ I half smiled. ‘I’m just thinking.’
‘I can see that. May I ask what it is that is confusing you?’
I thought about it for a moment. What was confusing me? ‘Is it physical?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded and I felt something drop in my stomach.
‘Right.’ I said, much more quietly than I intended.
‘It’s also emotional,’ he added and my gaze shot up to his. ‘I suppose spiritual as well, I find it all consuming and intoxicating.’
‘Right.’ I breathed again. What was I supposed to say to that?
Nox bowed his head in disappointment. ‘Can I assume that you do not reciprocate those feelings?’ I could see a flash of anger building, but it didn’t seem to scare me. The anger wasn’t aimed at me, it never was, it was more internal than that. ‘I apologise if I have made a misjudged step, I believed that with our previous discussions and your willingness to talk about sensitive subjects, that you might have found the same comfort in me that I find in you.’
‘You’re not comfortable around anyone.’ I pointed out, half in attempt to joke.
‘No… I’m not.’ His pale eyes flickered up to mine. I watched as he began going through the process of what to do next.
‘I just don’t understand you sometimes.’ I half laughed, startling him slightly.
‘In what way?’ He frowned curiously.
‘You love science, you love your work, no one has the passion that you do for it,’ I could feel the emotion building behind my eyes. ‘I always thought the best I could be for you was someone who let you get on with that work. I didn’t think you were interested in people like that.’
‘I’m not interested in people,’ he shook his head. ‘I find them predictable and hardly noteworthy. I find you intoxicating, Jessica.’ I felt a sudden flush overwhelm my skin, it almost stung.
‘That’s a strong feeling to have.’ I raised my eyebrow, playfully.
‘It is.’ He agreed and once again, waited for me to say something else.
‘When… how did you reach that conclusion?’
Nox sucked in a deep breath and sat up a little straighter, thinking on his answer. ‘I suppose five months ago I had a feeling that you might not have been as other assistants, another month of watching you work and do your best to allow me the room to do as I needed to… I was fascinated by your work ethic as well as your strength to overcome personal issues.’
‘And then what? You just decided it was love?’ I wasn’t taking a shot, I was just trying to understand him.
‘I decided it was more than tolerance,’ he smiled. ‘More than simply acknowledging and accepting your existence, I actively sought out to protect it and enjoy it.’
‘That’s why you threw a fit when those guys attacked me.’ Suddenly his rage made a lot more sense. I watched his fists suddenly clench and his knuckles began to turn white as the anger started bubbling beneath the surface.
‘It was not as irrational as you thought.’ His voice was tense growl and it made me fear slightly. ‘I never wanted you to leave my sight after that, I still don’t.’
‘And that’s why I’m here.’ I nodded, understanding everything a little clearer now.
‘Yes.’ Nox seemed able to calm himself down and I felt a sudden urge to touch his fists in some effort to loosen them before he did himself an injury. I slid my hand over his soft skin and listened to him exhale in relief, like all he really needed was a little physical contact to finally let the anger leave him.
Before I really knew what either of us were doing, Nox had turned his hand over and allowed me to glide the tips of my fingers over his palm. I couldn’t help but watch his eyes close as he absorbed the feeling, his breath shallowed and I could have watched his expression all night. I had never known Nox to be so exposed before, to let his guard down this much in front of another person. It scared me for a moment, I needed to stop.
I took a breath and removed my hand, once again seeing that flash of anger before his eyes connected with mine and it quickly faded.
‘Why did you stop?’ He asked, voice low and relaxed.
‘Because I got scared.’ I replied honestly.
‘Scared of what?’
‘Of how willing you are to let your guard down in front of me.’
Nox was quiet, he just watched me, on occasion his eyes darkened before growing pale again.
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything at all.’
‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘I’m glad you told me. To be honest, I know I’ve fallen in love with you, but I just don’t know if it’s in quite the same way. I need to think about it for a while.’
‘Very well.’ He nodded. ‘If there’s anything you require of me, please ask.’
‘I will.’ I smiled gently, before knowing how to ease all tension. ‘Maybe you should have just slipped me one of those pills and just taken what you want.’
It made him smile and shake his head, not the reaction I was expecting. ‘I believe that experience would be more satisfying with your permission and no external stimulants.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, sometimes that stuff can be fun,’ I felt my face blush at the sudden image of Nox and I together in bed. ‘But I think you’d need the pills more than I would.’
Nox leaned forward and frowned. ‘You’re giving me mixed signals.’ He said, eyeing me curiously.
‘I have another question.’ I stopped him from looking at me too closely. He nodded for me to ask it. ‘When I was hurt and you were helping me, putting the ointment on… it looked like you enjoyed what you were seeing, the bruises on my ribs.’ I watched a new expression appear on his face, one I was unsure I understood. ‘I don’t know if I could really fall for someone who enjoys that kind of thing. Why do you like it?’
Nox stood up, I saw the flicker of rage and suddenly I felt like I needed to run away, like something very bad was about to happen. He walked to the centre of the living room and I watched his whole being tense and his fists once again clench so tightly he was at risk of injuring himself.
‘It wasn’t the bruising.’ He said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. I listened to him taking deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. ‘I didn’t enjoy seeing you in pain, Jessica.’
‘Then what was it?’ I asked just as quietly.
Nox turned around and sighed. ‘Do you really want me to tell you?’ He took a careful step towards me again. I nodded and watched him swallow nervously. ‘Before I applied the treatment, I couldn’t help but notice your body… I enjoyed the shape, the way it felt when I applied the ointment. The bruising extended below your belt and I imagined…’ he was suddenly unable to finish the sentence and looked away, ashamed. ‘But now, I know that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t wish cause you any discomfort.’
I thought for a moment. What the hell was wrong with me? I had a really hot, sexy, powerful and intelligent man telling me that he loved me and I wasn’t exactly rejecting him, he wanted me, probably for perfectly legitimate reasons and I was treating it like a normal conversation.
‘It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.’ I said quietly. Nox took another step towards me, somewhat hopeful. ‘I don’t know if I feel the exact same way, but I know that I like what you’re saying. I just think the rest of me would disappoint you.’
Nox grinned and his shoulders sank in relief. ‘I think the chance is worth taking, I don’t believe you could disappoint me.’ He took the last step towards me and I felt my breath stutter. ‘You’ve stopped shaking.’
I looked down at my hands to find he was right, the shaking from when we were in my flat had stopped and I felt a lot more settled. Maybe I did feel something more for him. I felt his hands slide over mine, caressing them gently, not intrusively, just suggestively, like the promise of more was just a question away.
‘Jessica,’ he said, before I could speak. ‘As much as I would love to do this tonight, you’re exhausted and still in pain.’ His hand moved to my jaw, gently bringing me up to face him, his eyes were dark, but it was clear he wasn’t about to do anything I didn’t want him to. ‘Will you allow me to assist you?’
‘Okay.’ I breathed, the temptation to reach out and touch him was overwhelming for a second.
Nox never looked away, he gently pulled me to stand up and for a while, I thought he might kiss me. I certainly wouldn’t have rejected him, but he didn’t kiss me, instead he took my hand in his and led me down a corridor, past the bathroom towards the end of the hall where another two doors were, one leading to a bedroom, the other I had no idea.
He opened the door to reveal a bedroom with a low bed almost twice the size of my own, dark, blue sheets were half on the floor, half on the bed. The floor was warm, dark grey wood with a white rug that surrounded the bed and a door that sat off to one side.
‘Is that a walk-in wardrobe?’ I raised my eyebrow and watched Nox grin and look a little bashful. ‘Why do you need a walk-in wardrobe? Why does anyone need one?’
‘It’s not need, it’s want.’ His voice was lower than I remember. ‘However, I’m surprised you didn’t notice the view.’ He gestured behind me to where a window stretched the length of his entire room, it was like a sea of glittering lights. I felt my legs move of their own accord towards the window to watch the nightlife of downtown. The vehicles moving through the streets, making the lights look like one continuous line of light, the flickering of building lights going on and off and the black sheet of sky covering everything.
‘It’s so peaceful.’ I breathed.
‘It is.’ I felt Nox breathe behind me and we just spent a moment watching the silent night in front of us.
‘Do you feel better for helping me tonight?’ I asked, unsure of where the question came from all of a sudden.
‘I do.’ His voice penetrated my core and I felt myself lean back ever so slightly. Nox was much closer than I realised because I felt the exterior of his t-shirt brushing my back, I wanted to keep going, something about his body pressed against me was alluring me in a way that I had never felt before. ‘Would you like me to check your injuries?’
I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded, clearing my throat, pretending like I wasn’t suddenly aroused by Dr Nox.
‘Lie down on the bed.’ He commanded and at first, I was hesitant, but soon I found myself walking towards his bed, watching him move the duvet to make room for me. The bed itself was incredibly comfortable and the second I lay down, I found myself wanting to fall asleep. Nox sat beside me and opened up the drawer beside us. ‘Lift your shirt.’ He said, taking the bottle of ointment out and pouring a little in the bowl that I didn’t realise was there. When did he get that? ‘You seemed to be enjoying the view, so I decided to leave you to it.’ He grinned and suddenly the Nox I knew was back.
I chuckled and tried my hardest to relax, but it was difficult being in his bed, with my shirt lifted, knowing he enjoyed what he was seeing. I felt the warm cloth touch my skin and suddenly my eyes shut and a new sensation washed over me, one that filled me with warmth and comfort. I felt the cloth run over my ribs, close to the hem of my t-shirt that was just about covering my chest, all the way down to the top of my joggers that hung a little lower on my hips than usual.
I felt the cloth suddenly stop when I inadvertently let out a low hum. My eyes flew open and I could see that Nox had a very dark look to him indeed, he was waiting for something. Permission? I swallowed thickly and he looked away, frowning slightly and removing the cloth from my ribs.
‘I’m sorry.’ I whispered.
‘Let me kiss you?’ It was the low commanding voice that came immediately after my apology.
I felt myself nod, not quite of my own accord and suddenly his lips connected with mine and a low growl was passed between us, neither of us quite knowing who it was that was making the noise. His hand slid up my jaw as he deepened the kiss, using his tongue to fully explore my mouth, his teeth to draw out moans wherever he saw fit and I couldn’t help but let my own hands drift up his body, feeling each muscle in his torso, his bulging stomach, narrow hips and broad chest. Nox groaned deeply the second my fingers traced the skin across the bottom of his t-shirt.
He brought his hands down to my wrists and gently pulled them away from his body to the side of my head. ‘Not tonight.’ He whispered, grazing my lips. ‘Jessica, not tonight.’
‘Why not?’ I frowned, not sure why after kissing me and making me ready for him, he would want to suddenly stop everything.
Nox chuckled lowly. ‘My saying no should be enough.’ He pulled back just a little to look down at me, his grip on my wrists loosened as his thumbs traced the sensitive skin on the inside of my forearms.
‘You’re sending me mixed signals.’ I echoed from earlier in the evening. Making Nox chuckle and place a chaste kiss to my mouth. He brought his hand down to my ribs, again stroking his thumb over the sensitive skin, before curling his large hand around my waist. He put the faintest amount of pressure on the still bruised skin and my eyes widened, while my own hand came down to stop him.
Nox sighed and smiled gently. ‘Not tonight.’ He repeated and I suddenly found myself agreeing. I slowed my breathing and kept it steady, while Nox continued to stroke my ribs and place the softest kisses to my mouth. It was both keeping me at a low level of arousal and relaxing me enough to go to sleep and he could feel it. ‘I’ll leave you to rest, Jessica.’
‘Stay.’ I breathed, not quite knowing if I really said it or if he heard me as my eyes closed and remained so until morning.
If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Colors in Never Let Me Go - the Discordant Colors
I’ve listed some of the discordant color(s) against the more regular color palette(s) in the show here. Now I’m going to add some of my thoughts on those color(s), focusing on the scenes of my interest. When I need to interpret the possible meaning of the colors, I will do so based on this reference.
1. Shades of red/orange. So many instances of the reddish shade were found throughout the first three episodes. Some of them emphasize the presence of someone or something (e.g., the teacher, Neung’s books), while others probably imply an event (e.g., the red protest texts). And we also have these few shots, which I thought might tell us something.
Neon red on the (emergency) exit signage, amidst the blue lighting, can automatically assumed to mean ‘danger’ (why would you go for an emergency exit otherwise). Now, this scene actually bothered me for two reasons. My inner architect itched a little. The first one is the outdoor placement of the exit sign (as it is more commonly used inside a building to guide people out). The second one is why they would exit the building through the back area, not the front (except taking into consideration that they stayed until pretty late).
This one here is pretty obvious: red symbolizes power. Thanya was in red outfits as she declared stepping up to the CEO position in place of Phiphop. The red straps directed our view to Thanya. Now, on the left, we also note a woman in a red outfit/dress. We know from the episode that nothing had happened involving the woman. So, it could be just a random additional drop of red in the scene, or maybe something will happen in future episodes that would refer back to this part of the episode.
This scene catches my eye as the lamps behind Neung gave a more reddish vibe compared to other scenes whenever he was in his room (and the light was more of pinkish vibe). However, I feel the spectrum of Nueng’s emotions here was quite complex and not necessarily associated with the color red. It could be ranged from worries, fear, stress, frustration, and to some extent, maybe also anger. Truthfully, I’m not sure. What I know, they put Nueng in the center, giving a sense of double ‘pressure’ from all sides.
Another I’m not sure. This is the scene where Khit learns about Palm, and also where Chopper knows Palm lives in Neung’s house. The muted red (the car’s rear lamp and Palm’s sleeveless shirt) might indicate a possible future relation between Palm and either or both of them based on their power dynamics and/or connection to Nueng and his family. But again, as of now, I’m not sure how it will turn out.
2. Red/orange + blue.
I think the second picture above, the ‘scoring board,’ is more of a reaffirmation. It shows the combination of muted red and blue as a complementary color scheme representing an opposition, as it was in a basketball game. Now, taking this reference to the first picture, does it suggest that Palm and Chanon would eventually end up as opposition? (By “opposition”, I don’t mean a normal fight between father and son with differing views.) Or maybe the colors are there as a contrast, for a composition purpose. We need to see further into the next episodes.
3. Yellow + blue (darker or lighter).
At its first appearance, this room feels like Nueng’s safe space in the school. It uses a different color tone compared to the other parts of the school. More specifically, the combination of muted yellow and blue is another set of complementary color schemes. Some keywords that match the colors imply different sides of Nueng. Yellow represents insecurity, naivety, and, to some extent, obsession. Blue represents isolation and melancholy. They might not be 100% accurate, but briefly, Nueng might have given off those vibes.
4. Shades of green.
The green here is subtly placed between Thanya and Khit and seems to blend well with the dark colors of their outfits. Green is another representation of danger, which also implies corruption and darkness. Another thing to note, while plants (or nature in general) generally lean more on representing softness, it serves as a clear divider between Thanya and Khit here. We already see the hostility between them, yet we might need to wait some more to see where that ‘competition’ will lead to.
#never let me go#never let me go the series#nlmg 🧡#never let me go colors#cinematography#color#color palette#color scheme#color interpretation#why am i so last minutes into the new episode
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome to the Thanatology Anthology, Danny Phantom AU/Rewrite FAQ THREAD--
With me, your host, theplanetprince.
SO, I suppose the first question should be--
Q: What is the Thanatology Anthology?
A: The Thanatology Anthology is a series of fics/art made by me, theplanetprince, based around the 2004 nickelodeon superhero Paranormal SciFi cartoon Danny Phantom.
Simply put it's the name for how I would reboot the show. Including designs of certain characters, characterization, aspects of world-building, redos of moments in the show, etc. Truthfully, told I'm unsure what label to put my series of fixes and nitpicks under-- I've heard some people call it an outright rewrite/reboot of the continuity which I'm more willing to agree with.
Although I am borrowing a lot of aspects from certain aus, ecto-hunger, the core stuff, though they don't really bare a lot of resemblance to the original material or I simply can't find sources to double check if I'm getting all the details right. There are a lot of differences from the canon that I'm incorporating that some people might want to borrow and use for their own writing like for example Danielle (AKA Ellie) being Danny's future daughter rather than a clone. I guess I use the au label as well, in case people like my ideas enough to use.
I'm probably making it sound a bit more complicated than it actually is, but the idea is that I'm rewriting the show from the perspective of an older fan influenced by horror movies who wants to give the characters a bit more nuance and life.
Q: Okay, but what does 'Thanatology Anthology' mean though?
A: Ah, Thanatology is a word that comes from Thanatos IE the greek spirit of Death. Thanatology means the Study of Death. I thought I was clever. A few other work-shopped titles were "In the midst of our lives we die." "Pine box parables" "Six Feet Shallow" and "Death via Misadventure"
Q: When does this rewrite take place?
A: It can really be whenever you want it to be, but I've always shot for the late 90s, or early 2000s.
Q: Do I have to read these in order?
A: I mean, I'm not writing it in order! I'm writing the story as it comes to me. One piece might take place in the character's Freshman year and the very next I release might be their Junior year. I've done my best so far to cobble together some kind of order as well as catagerize stories via the series function on AO3 by the character arcs. Like for example Wes's arc is under the series label "That Messed up Thing That Happened To Wes When He Was A Kid." Each story in that series is ordered by every appearance of Wes that pertains to his character arc. You don't have to read these stories in order if you don't want to! I'll try to put enough context in each piece to make it approachable.
First Year (Freshman):
Amity Park Anomalies
Cherry Flavored
Second Year (Sophmore):
Pick Your Poison
Schrodinger’s Adolescent
Q: You said you were making changes to the canon, what kind of changes are there going to be? What are you keeping? What are you mixing around?
A: For the most part the concept is still the same, Half-Dead teen antics. ✨Now gayer✨
I'm mostly removing world-building concepts that no longer mesh with how I think the story will flow. I'm mostly trying to rework the appearances of the Medieval Ghosts Eudora and Aragorn. That is strictly a personal preference of mine, I just don't find high fantasy concepts that interesting-- and they're kind of confusing when you open them up in a more SciFi setting like Amity Park. It feels more realistic for aliens to mesh into the setting than medieval ghosts/dragons. I probably won't be including the likes of Pariah Dark either. However, I do have plans for the Fright Knight that I hope people will find interesting. The furthest back in time in setting I'll go is probably to the witch trial days because I find that setting is not only easier to write for, for my skill set, I just find folksy/witch horror oodles more fascinating. Also with the villain set, I wanted to incorporate more Guys in White lore and more original ghost hunters. Making the humans in Amity Park just as threatening as the ghost threats. I'm putting more of an emphasis on technology, ghost weapons, and characters versus high fantasy elements.
Q: With characterization, how do you plan to change that?
A: Truthfully, I don't plan on changing much except fulfilling character arcs to iron out the main character's flaws from the original run of the show. It never felt like they grew or evolved much beyond simplistic stereotypes. I plan on getting into the heads of our teenage protagonists to really bring out their best and worst aspects so they can grow. Not to mention conclude Valerie Gray's arc from the original run-- as well, as giving the fan-created character Wes Weston a villain arc in tandem.
Q: What Ships are endgame?
A: TeddyGhost. I wish I could be more blunt about it (LMAO)
but Teddyghost or some poly quartet of the Main Trio + Dash. This started with Schrodinger's adolescent a Danny/Dash fic, and I would like to keep it that way. But I promise not every fic in this series will be centered around a romantic pairing. Some of them will just be good, clean, bad one liners and fights. Other ships that will probably get some spotlight are VeggieBurger (Sam/Tucker) and PunkPoet (Ember/Ghostwriter). I'm not too sure what the official name decided on Val/Wes is but DeceasedDesist is my personal label for it haha.
Q: I want to help/I want chapters and releases to come out faster-- Where can I find more stuff?
A: I'll be real with you, I am just one person and I am just making it up as I go along! But if you would like to help contribute, maybe consider checking out the stories I do have on my AO3, Under the Thanatology Anthology Series. What really helps motivate any author is comments and asks. Share my work! I don't mind. But as long as there's still work to be done I'll be here doing it.
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
I kind of want to feel bad for targ stans and how the finale made them feel...but then I remember how vicious they were (and continue to be) against Sansa fans, Elia fans, Aegon is real fans, etc.
Did the heroic music in her scenes duped them? Did they miss the H*tler cam shots during her “badass” moments? Booh, booh, let me get the smallest violin 🎻 out.
Honestly, tons of bloggers in this hell site, Kelsey and others on Quora said for years she was headed this way...and they wouldn’t listen. They mocked everyone, specially Jonsas, and when the last episode came instead of being ashamed of their ignorance and inability to read the clues in the story they doubled down on it and attacked Stark fans, Dorne fans, and everyone else viciously. They harrased the actors irl (specially Kit and Sophie) for something a fictional character had done and signed a petition asking for a reshoot. 🤡
Now they have all these “hot takes” where they find Martin’s writing to be subpar and r*cist and misogynistic but if their fav had won they would be praising him to the skies.
Sorry, but I thank D&D for fooling them and exposing them as the tyranny apologists that they are. 🤷🏽♀️
I still remember one of their “theories” was Sansa would die a horrible death at the hands of her own sister and that’s why I reserve my sympathy for the side of the fandom that was actually paying attention to the narrative and minding their own business.
The North is free. Ding dong the witch is dead.
(about my tags on this reblog)
The North is free. Ding dong the witch is dead.
lmaoooooo. I do like that! I didn’t mean to say let’s forget everything what happens/happened in the fandom because yes, the Dany stans were awful. Kelsey wasn’t into shipping and she made very good arguments for Dark Dany for years and suffered horrible abuse. She finally spoke out after s8 and said that Targ stans were far and away the worst part of the fandom and had sent all kinds of threats to her and she had to delete all personal accounts because of doxing fears etc. And I know Sansa fans and Jonsas have received the same kind of treatment. It’s appalling and no one should ever harass people online, let alone send rape and death threats which at one point were routine in this fandom. So I certainly don’t want to minimize that, and I’m not suggesting we pretend that didn’t/doesn’t happen. I have hate sitting in my inbox right now even though I have hundreds of accounts blocked. They’re relentless. That part of the fandom is beyond the pale.
I simply meant, I was blindsided by what D&D did to a favorite character too.
I grieve too.
So, I do not understand or condone their behavior, but I do understand their feelings regarding the finale. Bewilderment, disgust...I felt it for totally different reasons, but I did feel that way too. I understand the rage, and reading posts by nontoxic fans, what Dany meant to them as survivors of abuse, well, it made me more disgusted with D&D’s choice to mislead the audience than with the fans who didn’t think too deeply and weren’t reading metas that explained the visual story that D&D repeatedly undermined with their dialogue.
Anyway, I’m not saying anyone needs to feel differently about the rest of the fandom. I’ve said recently I find everyone else except our corner pretty abhorrent, but in this, in my anger about the finale, I relate to them.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sync Pair Retrospective - Summer 2022
Summer alts in gacha terrify me. Maybe it's because I'm from FEH, but it always signaled the coming of the most uncomfortable art for your favorite female character you could imagine. Thankfully, Masters is still a Pokemon game, and my initial encounter with Summer alts was pretty mild. The realization that the first ever summer alts, Lyra and Steven, were literally just normal clothes, was refreshing. And 2022 followed suit, basically giving N and Hilda a focus on festival clothes. I appreciate it...so much. So glad they continued this with Tate and Liza.
N (SUMMER)
N and Zoroark is absolutely hilarious to me. Dark-type damage at this point felt...underwhelming. At least to me. You had Sygna Suit Cyrus, but very little else in the type's favor, what with most tools being really bad (Grimsley, Karen at the time) or good DPS in exchange for dying (H!Hilbert, BP Karen). Sygna Suit Cyrus was the first significant encounter with a good Dark-type damage dealer, and he was mostly sync and sleep focus. N was the first to feel like he was really taking advantage of Dark as a limited damage type. What he offered was big damage in Night Daze, and utility in the form of Snarl. His sync wasn't the best, but as a DPS unit, he's pretty nice!
Unfortunately time took a bat to the back of his skull.
Night Daze can miss. Yeah, somehow N's kit doesn't solve for the accuracy issue. Moreover, while his DPS is good, it's not exactly life-changing. The accuracy debuffing was nice, but didn't lead into much of note for him, being too inconsistent without On a Roll to matter much. And to top it off, a four-bar move means you need gauge control, which he doesn't really have. N wasn't quite bad, but he's one of those pairs I've never had a good time using.
Which makes the following events worse. Karen got a grid expansion and it was unreal, offering a fantastic 60% flinch rate on her Dark Pulse, better self-setup with double debuff Snarl (N himself only had a 50/50 shot, Karen was guaranteed), and much improved sync damage. Nanu got his grid, and went from mostly a utility bot, to a legitimately astonishing sync nuker of his own. Champion Serena showed up and covered Dark in addition to her natural Water, and while not carrying the same DPS, her sync was unrivaled. And of course, we then got Champion Marnie, who just obliterated anyone's attempt to keep up on Dark-type DPS, and the illustrious SC Zinnia with an absurd Buddy move and some really nice utility for a team.
N was top dog for a very brief moment in the type, and hasn't really kept up with the shifting of the tides. I'd argue Karen is legitimately just better than him at everything he wants to do. Better gauge control, better debuffing, better secondary effect on solid damage and much better sync. And considering Karen is like fourth best in the type now? Yeah, N stands very little chance. I'd say he got the benefit of Lodge Dawn, whose Team Sharp Entry and speed buffs salvage a lot, but she's not exactly a reliable answer to CS, you know? And so, N just kinda...exists. Sadly.
But again, it makes this next part hilarious.
HILDA
I love being right. I love it more than anything. And once again, my love of supports does not steer me wrong.
Hilda, by contrast, has done pretty alright for herself. Despite being reviled as one of the worst sync pairs of the last year, Hilda was always pretty good at her job. She's a tank, taking hits wonderfully, and at full investment offering some clutch debuffing of the foe's defensive stats. Among other useful options. The main reason to dislike her is really just...no pop healing. First Aid 4, that's it. She doesn't recover well, and as a pure tank, that's a problem.
What she does have, however, is Topsy-Turvy, inverting a foe's buffs to debuffs. Which some may ask, is that really that good? Yeah dude! Have you never played Gauntlet before? Sudden shits in stats occur on the regular, and do you know how valuable it is to invert the early Bar 1 +2 accuracy to a -2 accuracy? Do you know how sick it is to press a button once and have Latias go from a major problem to bleeding out? This skill was great! Sure, some people considered it niche, but I've always thought it held tremendous weight.
That said, this never caught on as a gimmick, despite being delightful, and Hilda does not offer nearly what SS Morty did as a support. If anything, many would consider her primary competition to be BP units, which isn’t good as a seasonal. BP Morty had the same buffing trainer move, but had Potion and Astonish. BP Clemont would show up with the same trainer move, but also accuracy buffing and Screech for better defense debuffing potential. She absolutely couldn’t keep up with powerhouses like Morty, so what possible chance did she have against a nightmare like Aura Cynthia? There was just no reason to even look at Hilda.
Hilda was largely relegated to Gauntlet, being quite good there, but languished in CS. A little unfairly, I might add. I feel like there were enough stages that Topsy Turvy still had merit, it’s just that no one else agreed.
But as a wise man once said, true genius is never recognized until it’s needed, and I am vindicated once again. The 12.5k Master Mode meta added a few new tools to select from, and one of them was the "All Stats +3" condition for foes. While generally not selected for anyone, Summer Hilda suddenly pops off, able to hit the foe for -3 in every. Single. Stat. Suddenly, you're halfway to a full sync nuke multiplier. Need Relentless support? Great, just pack a Leer ally and this condition, and you're at max performance for sync 1. Devastation? Same deal. Power Play is now 83% charged in one action. Anything is on the table now. To say nothing of fights like Glacia, where she comes in with +2 accuracy and the heavy-hitting Blizzard, and you can just...invert it and laugh.
Hilda and N are great examples of what makes a sync pair good long-term. Sure, N was temporarily a great DPS unit, but without some key elements, he's just waiting to get outdone. Comparatively, Hilda's traits are fully unique. Someone may come along and do it better, like how Lucian now outclasses P!Dawn in every meaningful way, but P!Dawn isn't useless because of this, you know? She's just not the top dog. Hilda will always have this niche. Despite being disparaged as a bad support like so many others, she's just another in an extensive list of sync pairs that showed up with something unique and valuable, and has stood the test of time. Sure, neither of these two were like...meta defining options. But man, you can't always be pushing boundaries, and we just got done with Jotho VA and Sinnoh E4, let people breathe a bit.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something new - one-shot
Words: 3127
Content: Boy meets boy, no smut! Drinking and smoking
—-----------------------------
Flicking back the faded, heavy curtains, Toby glanced up at the sliver of grey sky visible above the etched window panel. It had been sunny when he left the flat, but now the clouds had returned and it looked like they were in for another typical overcast and slightly sticky summer’s day in the city. Oh well, if it rained that would mean more customers as the tourists opted for refreshment indoors rather than at a pavement cafe. Generally he worked evenings, but had been landed with yet another double shift due to the habitual flakiness of Greta, who was meant to open on weekdays but seemed to find it difficult to fit her actual job around her busy social life. He didn’t really mind; nothing but one measly audition in weeks and money was getting tight.
As usual, Steve turned up at the pub not long after the barman had flipped the sign over to ‘Open’. He only lived over the road and treated The Front Page pretty much like his own living room.
“Hi there. Your usual?”
“Please. And one for yourself.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. Maybe later.”
Steve settled into his customary spot at the end of the bar with his newspapers and cigarettes, exchanging pleasantries with a few regulars but otherwise, as always, keeping mostly to himself. Toby knew he was in a band, though he had no idea which one beyond that it must be a successful one judging by the pocketful of crumpled fifty-pound notes that the man used to pay his bar bills. Usually he looked the part - leather jacket, cowboy boots, and long flowing hair, dishevelled but debonair - but over the past few months he had begun to look distinctly seedy, the golden mane lank and showing dark roots, crumpled shirts, dark circles under dulled blue eyes.
At 2.30pm, when he’d politely ushered the final few patrons to the door, Steve was still sitting there, lost in his own reverie. A couple of weeks ago, once again covering for Greta, Toby had felt a pang of sympathy for the dejected-looking man at the end of the bar and let him stay through closing, telling him ‘You’re practically part of the furniture anyway’. He’d made him a sandwich and they’d had a casual conversation about the contents of the newspaper. Steve had kept his quiet and self-contained manner, but seemed to appreciate the company. The one-man lock-in had been repeated twice the following week, and now Toby didn’t even bother asking the other man if he wanted to stay before bolting the door and starting to clear up around him.
Dumping a handful of glasses down on the bar, he simply asked, “Ham and tomato okay?”
Steve looked mildly startled, blinking in that spacey way of his, but then he smiled. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”
Toby thought he looked a bit better today, still crumpled but less hollow-eyed, and he’d shaved. And when he slid the sandwich across to him, he picked it up and started eating straight away, rather than leaving it to curl up at the corners before taking a few scant bites.
“You must let me pay. For the sandwiches.”
“Nah, you’re alright. I’m entitled to lunch, and they don’t care how much I eat.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” Steve smiles again before dropping his eyes back down to the countertop.
The room has been getting increasingly dim and now raindrops start to splatter against the windows, a heavy summer shower. Toby switches on the lights over the bar. He ejects the cash drawer from the till and puts it on the bar in front of Steve.
“Since you’re here, I’ve got a job for you. Do you want to count the takings? Earn your keep as it were.”
He half-expects Steve to demur but in fact he immediately starts assembling the coins into neat piles. He leaves him to it while he stacks glasses in the washer and empties ashtrays, reasoning that a man with pockets full of cash is unlikely to steal anything.
Surprisingly quickly, Steve pipes up, “£78.32 in coins. And £185 in notes.”
Toby feels obliged to check, but a quick examination of the money stacked by denomination along the bar confirms that Steve’s total is indeed correct.
“Maybe you should have been an accountant!” he jokes.
“Too many sums,” replies Steve with a wry smile. “I just like… organising things. I wish everything was as easy… to sort out. I don’t… understand…” he stutters to a stop.
“Don’t understand what?” prompts Toby, but Steve just stares down at the bar, carefully turning all the fifty pence pieces in their stacks so that the corners match up exactly. The barman hands him some of those little plastic change bags for the bank and instructs, “£20 float for the till in mixed coins, and the rest in these, okay?”
Steve nods and, with something to do with his hands, starts to talk again. The sound of the rain beating down outside and the single pool of light over the bar area seems to create a small intimate space, cut off from the rest of the world.
“I don’t understand people. Relationships. My girlfriend… left me. Came and moved the last of her stuff out on Monday.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Steve waves his hand, “No. My own fault. I did… something stupid. Lots of things stupid. Just… women.” He sighs. “I don’t understand women.”
Toby smiles half a smile. “I can’t help you there I’m afraid. Really not my area of expertise.”
“Ah. Oh. Right.” Steve drops his eyes back to the piles of coins.
To Toby, it looks like he’s blushing, but that would be an odd reaction? Must just be the poor lighting.
They pass the rest of the mid-afternoon break mostly in companionable silence, Toby learning lines for his next audition and Steve doing the cryptic crossword. Steve’s kind offer to run through some scenes turns out to be less helpful in practice than in theory, especially when he is informed that the play was originally written in Russian and proceeds to read every part in an exaggerated Bond villain style, making his co-star laugh so much he can’t complete a single line of dialogue! When 4:30 rolls around, Toby finds himself reluctant to put his brewery-branded apron back on and unlock the door. As the pub starts to fill up with a more boisterous post-work crowd, the amateur thespian, always more reserved around people he doesn’t know, retreats to an out-of-the-way table and once again buries his head in his newspaper.
At 11:30, as Toby is encouraging the last few stragglers out the door, he spots Steve still there in the corner with his head leaning against the wall, eyes shut. He flips the sign to ‘Closed’ and, with a sigh, heads over in that direction. From a publican’s perspective, Steve is basically a perfect customer - genial, generous, always pays his bills, and, usually, leaves without argument at chucking out time (Toby always feels compelled to watch him go, just to make sure he makes it across the street to his front door safely, but other than that, no trouble at all). But, after a long and stressful week including an argument with his step-father and his landlady threatening to evict him over whatever imaginary rule-breaking the mad old bat has dreamt up this time, he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with someone who looks properly out of it. He just wants a sit down and a large brandy and not to have to put on his obnoxiously-pleasant customer service face and cajole a resistant drunk out of the establishment. Steve is snoring gently and does not react at all to pointedly-loud chair scraping or glass rattling, but startles awake when the barman shakes his shoulder.
“Home time. We’re closing now.”
Steve just blinks at him.
“You alright there? Do you need me to… call someone?”
Steve shakes his head, “No... yeah… I’m fine. Not drunk. Ha! For once.” He rubs his face. “Sorry. Just… tired. I don’t sleep good.”
Toby’s mood softens. “I’m having a brandy, would you like one? Just as… on me?”
Indecision shows in Steve’s face. “Yeah, please, but put it on my tab okay?”
“No, I…”
“I owe you one from earlier… can’t have you… I know what they pay you guys, that’s like an hour’s worth…”
“Well okay, if you’re sure.” He’s happy to keep the day’s pay packet intact, but a little disappointed that his friendly gesture was rebuffed, albeit for the kindest of reasons.
When he gets back to the table with the two glasses, Steve says, “I hate money… I mean, I suppose I’m grateful to have it, but it makes everything awkward… transactional.”
“Better than not having it, I can tell you that.”
“Oh yeah, I didn’t mean… I remember… I didn’t always… until the band and everything…”
Toby takes this opportunity to finally find out what band it is, and is surprised when the answer is not only one he’s heard of but one that is literally everywhere. He’d always imagined that someone with that level of success would live in a mansion in LA or something, but when he shares that thought, Steve just shakes his head and says he likes it here. Fascinated, the barman asks more questions about the rock star life, but it feels like he’s just getting a practised spiel that Steve has given many times before to journalists and fans. Until he mentions the parallels between acting and playing live, when Steve becomes animated in the discussion of stagecraft and performance, then moving on to exchanging stories of life on the road. There’s obviously a huge disparity in scale and finances but, to Toby, the most surprising difference is between the actor experience of life in a touring company, full of community and companionship - almost too much community, almost enough companionship to make you scream - and the musician’s experience of isolation and being just another cog in a vast machine, feeling no more significant than the instrument he plays. Steve’s tone is light, but Toby sees glimpses of the deep pools of loneliness that his words are skipping across and, moved, he reaches out and pats his shoulder in sympathy. Steve’s head jerks up and his face flashes a look of… what is that? Alarm… but mixed with… something else? Just as quickly, he turns away and the expression, whatever it was, is gone.
In an effort to steer away from that apparent faux pas, Toby changes the subject to his wider acting career, if you can call it that, drawing humour from his six years of audition failures and ridiculously tiny walk-ons.
Steve laughs in the right places but still seems a little distracted, and then, out of the blue, he asks,“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not at the moment. Do you?”
It was a totally flippant response, but instead of the laugh he’d expected, Steve just gives an awkward half-smile and shakes his head. Oh. OHH. Suddenly the conversation, the whole day, actually the whole past few weeks, shifts in meaning. Into the heavy silence, Toby drops the offer of another brandy, which Steve gratefully accepts. The two men stare intently into their drinks for a few moments. Toby is still not sure where this is going - it’s not uncommon for people to spill their guts to the person serving their drinks, treating the bar as something between a confessional and a therapist’s couch. But most often it’s a one-way, often slurred, monologue. Toby doesn’t usually find himself so interested, so… invested… in the conversation. Steve’s biting his lip, like he wants to say something but is stopping himself, like he’s waiting to be asked.
Adopting a casual air, Toby asks, “So… ah… no boyfriend, and no girlfriend anymore?”
Another shake of the head, no eye contact, no clarification.
“But… you’d like one?”
A shrug.
This is like pulling teeth. Right, one last, more direct, prod and then he’s going to revert back to polite small-talk. “And… either would be okay?”
Another shrug.
Exasperated, and with the last vestiges of his customer service persona evaporating, he snaps, “Oh come on, you’re not making this easy! Do you want to talk about the weather? Or football?”
Steve gives a hiccuping laugh, but just shakes his head again.
“God, straight men are hard work!”
“I’m not -” says Steve in a slightly strangled exclamation, “straight!”
“Finally!”
Having said it, he looks faintly horrified at the revelation, but then, when Toby clinks their glasses together in a congratulatory salute, he grins with relief. “You’re only the second person I’ve ever told that. Not as bad as I thought actually.”
“I feel like I’m welcoming you to the neighbourhood! So, guys and girls? You’re bi?”
“I guess. I’ve always… known. Since I was a kid. Both just… there wasn’t a difference. Just didn’t know there was a word for it ���til much later. But I’ve never… with a bloke.”
“Never?” queries Toby, raising one eyebrow.
“Well… there was this one guy… someone I went to school with… saw him a few years later… after we’d left… at a gig. And walking home we… just a bit… in a doorway.” He rubs his hand across his eyes, the embarrassment still palpable even after ten years. “Scared the shit out of myself… terrified that someone saw us… that he’d tell people… that my dad would find out. So… not since then.” He smiles down at the tabletop, “I just look… and imagine.” He glances up at his companion, before darting his eyes down again.
Emboldened by the brandy and shared confidences, Toby takes a chance he wouldn’t risk when entirely sober. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Dunno. I’m not sure I know how.”
Feeling his heartbeat suddenly speed up, Toby reaches out and, with one finger under his chin, tilts Steve’s face up. Once again that same look of trepidation mixed with… is it… want… longing even… in those expressive sky-blue eyes?
“Like that.”
Steve holds his gaze for a few moments before the intimacy of the moment becomes too much and he shifts his head slightly to escape the supporting finger. Returning to his demure Princess Di pose, his lowered face almost, but not quite, hides the flush of pink across his cheekbones.
“Um… well, I… I need a smoke. Do you mind if I…?”
“No, no, go right ahead.”
Toby accepts a cigarette from the proffered packet, and Steve puts one in his own mouth. He offers his lighter to the other man, expecting him to take it. But instead, Toby puts the cigarette in his mouth and leans forwards. It takes Steve four clicks to get the flame to light, he’s concentrating so hard on keeping his hand steady. Toby lifts his hand to guide Steve’s, and at the shock of the sudden touch, Steve’s mouth drops open and his own cigarette falls onto the table! When he picks it up again and manages to light it with a still-shaky hand, he looks relieved to be able to hide behind the smoke.
Much as he is enjoying seeing Steve increasingly flustered, Toby charitably gives him a chance to regain his composure by offering a new, less fraught, topic of conversation.
“So, Blues or Whites?”
His companion just looks at him with a blank expression.
“Team. Football team? Chelsea or Fulham?”
Steve shrugs. “I don’t really follow football. Well, Sheffield Wednesday I suppose, from when I was a kid, but I only know how they’re doing if Sav tells me.”
“Better be the Whites then. Also known as the Cottagers…”
Another blank look.
“Aww, you really are a newbie.” Looking at Steve’s sweetly uncomprehending expression, he has an idea. “You need to get out more. I could take you out, show you a bit of the scene, clubs, bars, that kind of thing.”
“You mean… gay clubs?”
“No, knitting clubs. You must have been to a gay bar? Even by accident?”
“Well, yeah, the girls - Lorelei and her friends - liked to go dancing, so there was a club we went to a couple of times. But… I don’t think it’s really… my thing. Can’t dance for starters. And what if someone saw me? It’d be in the papers. Mensch would actually murder me!”
“Okay, I can see that.” He takes a final pull on his cigarette before depositing it in the ashtray, breathing the smoke out slowly, considering… “It doesn’t have to be a club. We could just… go somewhere… out somewhere… if you’d like?”
“You mean, like a…?” Steve can’t make himself say the word.
“Yeah, like a.” Toby smiles at the look of anticipation, and just a tiny bit of apprehension, on the other man’s face. “If you’d like to?”
“I… um… well… I… it would… I think…”
While Steve’s prefrontal cortex vigorously battles desire against caution, he plays for time by reaching once again for his cigarettes, absently lighting one before remembering his manners and offering the packet across the table.
Toby declines, shaking his head and trying to stifle a yawn, “Sorry, long day. Ugh, and I’ve still got to count out.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Sorry. You’ve been here all day haven’t you.”
“And unlike some people,” points out Toby with a smile, gently tapping Steve’s hand with his knuckle, “I didn’t get to take a nap!”
Either the brief touch or the teasing triggers another bloom of pink across Steve’s pale skin. He starts to haphazardly gather the possessions scattered on the table, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette and balancing Marlboro packet, lighter, pen, and keys on top of the pile of newspapers.
“Sorry about that. I’ll leave you to it. Go and sleep in my own bed instead of yours-your chair-this chair-you know what I mean.” He cringes as his brain finally gets ahead of his mouth and brings the babbling to a merciful halt.
Toby pretends not to notice. “No worries, you’re always welcome. Let me get the door for you.”
They pause in the doorway, standing close enough to touch, but not touching. Steve is a little taller, but he slouches, so they are pretty much eye-to-eye.
“So…”
“Can I… I need to think about this.”
“Of course, of course.” The barman takes a step back. “I’ll be here… tomorrow… whenever…”
“Tomorrow.” says Steve, and turns to leave. Then he turns back and, so quickly that Toby barely registers it happening, drops the smallest, lightest of kisses just at the very corner of his mouth. Then he’s gone, crossing the street in a few long strides and vanishing behind his front door, leaving Toby staring after him, unsure if he imagined it.
—-----------------------------
This came from when I was trying and failing to write a more-confident Steve meeting someone he likes. So instead I wondered what would make him the most blushing and babbling, and this was the result.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
OUAT Thoughts Pt.36--Episodes 8-9
I have watched through S4E9; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.
—Elsa planning a whole chocolate dinner for Anna is adorable! 💖 these girls.
—I love the Arendellian soldiers’ uniform. Red and bluish-grey go well together, and I’ve loved the cut of the coats since the movies came out.
—What is it with Ingrid and not wearing shoes? I don’t care if her feet don’t get cold, they’ve gotta be seriously gross. She spends all her time in a forest, for Pete’s sake.
—It’s cool that Hook gets to advance the plot by not trusting Rumple. I’d never believe that Hook trusted him completely, and having him be the one to figure out that Emma is trouble because of it is a neat way to utilize him.
—Ingrid is a big ol loony. Her obsession with finding new “sisters” really freaks me out.
—Also, the big-ass crystal on her ring is ugly. Once jewelry reaches a certain size it starts to lose its charm.
—Anna is serving some major Pinkie Pie vibes and I’m loving it. She’s kinda dippy, but in an endearing way, not a stupid way. I also like that she and Elsa are socially awkward in their own ways; Elsa is bad at relating to people, and Anna is pretty blunt.
—Elsa looks so elegant when she’s using her magic *sighs wistfully* it is literally impossible for me to be more in love with a Disney princess than I am with Elsa. LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE.
—Emma’s lack of control over her magic feels really out of left field. I get why she needed to have that story, but it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. At least that got resolved quickly.
—I might have to quit the show. Rumple stealing Hook’s heart cannot in any way have anything but a bad ending. The odds of both of them surviving are slim to none, and I will be terribly upset by either death.
—Maybe they’ll both die. Go for the double whammy.
—Regina owes Snow a quarter! Hope worked!….Until we find out that somebody was playing a mean trick on her, which would not surprise me. Or maybe I just need to give that whole hope thing a shot.
—I’m enjoying the aura of darkness that the Sorcerer is getting (and I haven’t seen a hair of his hide yet!) He sounds like he’s not a light sorcerer, which could be an interesting take on him. I wonder why it is he loves the hat so much—besides it being his.
—I love Elsa and Anna for sticking together until one of them was under a curse. Elsa would never believe Anna was against her because that’s not who Anna is, and although we haven’t seen this yet, Anna would never believe that Elsa was against her because…that’s not who Anna is. Reminds me of that unused thing from Frozen 2 where one of the parents said “her love could hold up the world.”
—I’m pretty sure this stupid Shattered Sight curse is going to emotionally annihilate me as much as it is the characters.
—Getting a little bit upset about Rumple’s villainy now. It was alright before, when it looked like all he wanted to do was ascend beyond the dagger, but now that it involves hurting/killing people like Hook and Emma I’m not so thrilled with it.
—Seeing Elsa’s gloves *with* her ice dress tickles me. They’re such a paradox together.
—I adore Robin for being the kind of guy to go to bat for Regina. She got upset about not having a happy ending in the book, so he stole it to see if he could find her a happy ending. That’s love.
—Emma doing fun things like an aurora and fireworks with her magic (yk, before it all went to hell AGAIN) was neat.
—I like the satiny shirts Regina wears with her suits. I mean, I love her Enchanted Forest riding habits, and some of the other outfits she wears there, but I also like elements of her Storybrooke clothes too.
—Currently I’m leaning towards either 1) the Apprentice is actually the Sorcerer, he’s just trying to safeguard his identity, or 2)—and not mutually exclusive—the Sorcerer wrote the book.
—Yeah, Anna was under a curse, but I appreciate that they’ve acknowledged some of the trauma from her and Elsa’s childhood. Obviously Elsa has had a crappy life, but I think the effect all of that had on Anna is often overlooked. Course, when it comes to the movies, I’m biased in favor of learning more about Elsa, even though it relegates Anna to the back burner, but in a TV show with wider scope, I’m glad I get to see more of both of them.
#once upon a time#ouat#queen elsa#princess Anna#snow queen Ingrid#Captain Hook#rumplestiltskin#regina mills#Robin Hood#the sorcerer#the curse of shattered sight#martianbugsbunny reviews
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
bookguide
“Books May Well Be The Only True Magic.”
dbergantin
Devis Bergantin
godstaff
Godstaff's Oasis
alexanderthegreats-darksecrets
WORK HARD/PLAY HARDER