#-state of mind right then. where he was engaging in a desperate attempt to save his casino via stopping teruko by any means necessary- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dear-mrs-otome · 2 years

Text

Silvio Ricci - PRETEND LOVER Event - Another Terrible Summary

(Yes, he is blushing. And yes, you'd better get used to his red-faced dumbstruck look because it's happening. Often.)

Here is my absolutely irreverent and chock full of hyperbole, only nominally-guaranteed-accurate rendition of Silvio's event story.

****************

Please always bear in mind that 1) I claim to be no expert in JP and there are and will be mistakes in this so show mercy on this amateur - and if you see any obvious mistakes, kindly let me know so I can improve 2) I didn't even TRY to make Silvio's dialogue as rude as it is. Always, at all times, assume this man is talking like a foul-mouthed sailor.

Aaaaaand 3) I made this so fucking long. Why did I feel compelled to be so detailed idk - this isn't even really a summary anymore it's just the whole damn event. FML

****************

So our story starts with Emma walking down the hall and being stopped by a very persistent aristocratic man she’s been dodging for days now - almost a dozen times now whenever she’s found herself alone he’s popped up, ‘coincidentally’, pestering her to have tea or spend time with him.

He tries again today, stating how beautiful it is outside and how she should join him for tea. She tries to make her excuses, apologizing and saying she has a prior engagement, but this stalker says no, he knows that’s not true - she doesn’t have anything on her schedule, he’s already checked with the servants in court.

She’s dismayed and also more than a bit wtf internally, when he presses her and says she doesn’t have any reason to hesitate so they should go. Takes her by the hand, making her skin sort of literally crawl, and tries to pull her off - only to be interrupted by a voice.

“Found you.”

Someone’s hand comes from behind and snags her, hauling her in…and she turns around to find, to her horror, that it’s Silvio there behind her. The tyrant himself, the last person she probably wants to see or have anything to do with because he is patently The Worst.

She can tell already that today is going to be rough.

He’s got his arms around her from behind, caught up too in his fancy schmancy exotic cologne, when he scolds her for making a hassle of herself. She’s one part relieved to be rescued from the creepy aristo guy…and one part full of dread because it’s Silvio that’s saved her and she knows he is far faaaar from a nice man.

He says with a smile how she’d already make a promise to him for the next while, and she’s blankly like….promise??? Prompting him to scowl at her before she’s all OH RIGHT RIIIIGHT THAT PROMISE RIGHT NOW YEP YEP. Realizing that maybe he’s trying to cover for her excuse to the aristocrat earlier.

Silvio’s grinning, but then he turns to the aristocrat and brushes him off, stating he doesn’t know who the guy is but he shouldn’t dare touch someone else’s woman - specifically, this woman is his.

Cue the aristocrat nearly pissing himself with terror, and Emma wondering wtf??

“Isn’t that right, woman?” Silvio prompts, and she’s left scrambling to say that maybe? That might be true??

She’s wondering if this is some attempt at protecting her, but her gut is telling her WARNING WARNING you in danger girl. Silvio’s got a wicked look and is clearly up to no good, but she’s pretty desperate here.

The aristocrat hastily apologizes, saying he had no idea that was the case, before he scampers off like a terrified rabbit.

Silvio scoffs at the guy in his absence, before turning back to Emma and telling her they should go. They have a promise to keep, no? She’s just silent, wary, and he grins.

“Come with me to a negotiation, woman. You certainly can’t refuse the invitation of your benefactor….right?” he presses.

She’s just YEP, had a feeling this was coming…but she forces herself to say it’d be her pleasure, much to Silvio’s great satisfaction.

—---

They end up at a fancy dressmaker’s shop, where the clerk who seems utterly unsurprised to see them sets about bustling Emma into a changing room and dressing her up in clothes and jewelry as if she were some kind of doll, much to her bemusement. Complete with a lavish jeweled necklace that makes her nearly sick at hearing the price.

Silvio points out that he can’t have any woman of his looking poor, and she asks if he’s insisting they stick with that scenario. She’d assumed it was just to put up a front for that aristocrat.

“Just for the day. Consider it an honor - there are countless women out there who would love to be my girl,” Silvio says with a smirk.

“And if I refuse?” she asks.

He threatens to hand her over to that perverted bastard, and she knows he’s talking about that aristocrat from before, so she has no real choice other than to silence her protests. But then something occurs to her and she asks him why, if he’s got alllll these women just throwing themselves at him, why doesn’t he ask one of them to play the role of his lover??

She doesn’t get why, but she has the distinct feeling he was searching for someone to attend this business talk with him in the role of his paramour.

He states too that it doesn’t make any sense if it’s not her.

“Why?” she presses.

“It just doesn’t,” he insists.

She points out that that’s not an answer, and he’s clearly getting frustrated, telling her to just quit her yammering - she can keep the clothes and the finery, just come with him. In a panic she tells him she can’t accept that, thinking to herself in horror how much money it is worth and how she’d have to work for years and years to make that much to pay him back.

She’s shaking her head when Silvio, his expression all a sour frown, grabs her chin and leans in. “Then I’ll buy you at whatever price you name.”

She’s flailing now because GORGEOUS MAN TOO CLoSE she’s gotta look away from those pretty pretty ocean eyes as she tells him it’s not a matter of money. “You helped me out today, so I’m going along with you as a way of saying thanks. So I don’t need to be paid for it.”

He just stops to stare at her all wide-eyed and wordless, and she starts to wonder why he looks so stunned.

Finally, she asks him to let go of her face…and he bitches that she shouldn’t try to order him around but he does so immediately anyways.

Moving on, he asks if she’s ready to go with him then and when she says yes he scolds her to smile then - she looks so glum she doesn’t exactly look like his lover. She feels a little bad she made it so obvious, and she promises to try her best - but despite that promise, he still looks displeased.

—---

They end up at the home of a prominent merchant in the Rhodolite jewelry business, the head of one of the largest and most famous in the country. Silvio and the merchant exchange business pleasantries, catching up on the past few years since they’ve met, and Emma sits silently and listens - realizing he was being legit, it really is just a business meeting.

The merchant expresses thanks for Silvio introducing them to many trade channels, even those outside of Benitoite, and he tells the man his good are so quality it’d be a shame for them to never make it out of this small country.

He’s there today to discuss a new opportunity with the merchant, one the man is very eager for since he claims it’s certain to be a success if Silvio is involved. But the man first makes note of how rare it is for Silvio to bring a woman along with him to a business endeavor, turning his attention to Emma.

He seems impressed that any particular ‘lovely flower’ of Rhodolite has caught Silvio’s eye, and Emma knows that is an oblique way of referring to a mistress in Rhodolite. She realizes she’s meant to act more as his mistress or arm candy than a true girlfriend, but she hides all those complicated feels behind a pretty smile.

But at that moment she hears something crash and everyone looks at the doorway to the room where Emma sees a woman standing, her face in her hands looking as if she were on the verge of crying.

“Ah, you’re up, woman,” Silvio prompts Emma.

She’s not sure what he means by that, looking back and forth between a frowning Silvio and the woman starting to cry. There are broken tea cups and such around the woman’s feet, a tea set she’d clearly been bringing them, and brushing aside whatever Silvio seems to want from her she turns to the teary woman.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, running over to her, and through her sobs the woman declares that she was serious about Silvio.

It all finally makes sense to Emma, who looks back at him and sees him scowling, though he’s as haughty as ever, as she says his name.

He insists he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, they had a meal and he gave her a little gift - clearly he doesn’t think it was any big deal. But Emma realizes there might have been a misunderstanding.

“Prince Silvio, is that woman really your paramour?” the woman asks him.

“That’s right,” he says. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

The woman is stammering denials and clearly distraught, and Emma realizes she seemed to have really liked Silvio, as she succumbs to her tears at last.

Emma tries to hold her up as she sags, but the woman shakes her off, and her heart is breaking at the sight - wondering if she can confess it’s all a lie and fake. She doesn’t know what Silvio’s up to here, but she doesn’t want any part of stomping all over some woman’s love. “Please, don’t worry. I’m -”

But that’s as far as she gets before her words are cut off by Silvio clapping a hand over her mouth and offering that if she doesn’t like being his mistress, he’ll bump her up to full-fledged lover. He’s smiling but clearly pissed, though that makes two of them - she tries to claw his hand off her but he holds on tighter.

“What, you’re that pleased?” he asks, to her muffled noise of protests. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided that the only woman in Rhodolite for me is you. I’m not in the mood to play the field much now.”

She’s incensed, raging to herself over how much of a skeezy lowlife this man is, flailing and fighting as he holds her even tighter still, pressing them even closer together. (Hon hon hon 😉)

Until with a wail, overcome at last, the poor woman runs away in tears without Emma ever getting the chance to set her straight.

“Don’t go running your mouth, stupid,” Silvio hisses in her ear as soon as she’s gone, finally letting her go.

She rounds on him, catching her breath. “Go after her and apologize right now!”

He’s totally baffled, frowning as he insists he doesn’t have anything to apologize for, but Emma is furious as she tells him he DOES, for what happened just now. Silvio just insists he doesn’t get what she’s saying, and she’s about to let him have it again when he stops her mouth again.

“More like, you’ve got some nerve talking to me that way, don’t you?” he sneers. He’s not hurting her but her mouth is blocked again, his stupidly handsome face leaning in to give her a once-over. “And don’t give me that defiant look. You’re doing this to thank me, right?”

She’s thinking how she did want to thank him for helping her out of the blue, but she’s got lines she can’t cross. Rather, she grips his hand over her mouth hard - knowing she’s not gonna win any strength contests against a man but wanting to make it very clear to him she was defiant.

He scoffs that she’s not being cute and they’re glaring at each other, sparks practically flying in the air, when they’re finally interrupted by the poor merchant who’s still there just….UHHHH SCUSE ME…?

Silvio apologizes for the fuss, and the man apologizes in return for his daughter’s behavior, Emma realizing the tearful woman must be the merchant’s own daughter. They go back to their discussions as if nothing’s happened - she’s still got PLENTY to say to him, but can’t interrupt now.

—---

The moment they’ve left the meeting, she’s pouncing on him again, saying how awful that was. She still feels wretched and wracked with guilt. Silvio asks if she's STILL going on about that, and tells her to forget it - he’d brought her here to get put an end to all this from the start.

She had a feeling that had been his purpose all along. “Do you have no heart at all?”

Even if he can’t return a woman’s feelings, there has to be SOME better way to turn them down than what he did here, she feels. But the way he took that woman’s heart and crumpled it up and tossed it aside, like trash into a wastebasket, infuriates her beyond reason.

“A heart? That’s got nothing to do with business,” he says, to her further outrage.

“Besides, I don’t act like that towards every woman.” He says that profitable ones are worth paying for, but not that particular woman - and he had to find some way to break things off without being rude because she’s the daughter of a business partner.

“You had to treat her with consideration, so you set me up as your lover and tried to get her to give up?” Emma rephrases.

“Yeah…so what the hell’s with the attitude just now?” he demands, warning her that he’s not going to just let it slide the next time she puts him in an uncomfortable position.

He literally doesn’t think he did anything wrong here, she realizes. She’s never thought of him as some kind of saint or anything but she didn’t think he was bad enough to just walk all over other people indiscriminately. “I see, it’s all very clear now.”

He turning around when he realizes she’d stopped a few steps back and asks what’s with the sudden honesty.

“It’s all very clear now - that you are the scum of the earth, the sort of person who stomps all over other people’s hearts!” she accuses furiously.

Angrily he asks if she’s looking for a fight and she retorts he’s already gotten himself one, taking him aback.

“Do you honestly think you can do whatever you want to something that doesn’t make you a profit?” she asks.

He says that it’s just a hassle and a waste of time that could be better spent elsewhere. “If it’s not worth money, it’s not worth the care.”

It’s a fundamental different of opinion, she realizes. “Money isn’t everything.” She reiterates to him that that woman seemed to really like him, regardless of money or anything like that, but he counters that he’s not buying that - there’s plenty of women who are underhanded gold-diggers.

She vehemently denies that that was the case here, thinking to herself that nobody cries the way that woman had over money, and asks how he doesn’t seem to get that.

Silvio still maintains he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You must lack some basic part of humanity.” She knows she’s being outrageously disrespectful to the prince of a foreign country but she’s too far gone to care right now, not with the memory of that woman’s tears still seared in her mind. “If you keep thinking like that…I don’t think anyone could ever love you.”

She’s half ranting when she suddenly senses the change in the air.

“You….”

CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER ENDING HERE: Premium

Silvio’s got a thunderous frown as he closes the gap between them and grabs ahold of her hand, dragging her to a nearby alley. “I can't stand women like you.”

“What a coincidence, the feeling is mutual,” she fires back.

He half scoffs, saying she’s got cajones to take on the prince from another country, and she retorts that just being a prince isn’t any excuse for stepping all over other people’s hearts. He tells her that he can alway fix things with money, and she starts to protest -

Only for it to be cut off before she’s barely started by his hand hitting the wall beside her with a loud bang, his handsome face close enough that their breath is mingling as he offers to just buy her, at whatever her asking price.

She realizes this is all pointless…nothing she says is going to get through to him. “No thank you!” She shoves at his chest and he doesn’t fight her as she pushes him away - but he still grabs ahold of her hand.

Irritated, he says they’ve wasted enough time here and they’ll be late for his next appointment, insisting that he’s not done with her yet despite her protests that she has zero interest in going anywhere else. “Denied. No matter what you say, you’re my woman for the day.”

She’s half dragged back out into the streets proper - but if he wants to be like that, she decides, he’s given her an idea.

—---

Next they find themselves at a nobleman’s mansion, and Emma can’t miss the woman on their way in who’s clearly thrilled to see Silvio, realizing it’s set to be the same scenario all over again. Silvio reminds her warily that she’s she’s just gotta keep quiet and sit next to him, nothing else unless she wants him to get back at her.

They’re cooling their heels, waiting for this business partner of his to show up, and she decides it’s now or never if she’s going to put her plan into action. As they’re seated, taking their tea, she waits until Silvio’s set his teacup back down after taking a sip, and the moment he does she tosses any shame aside and hugs his arm as tightly as she can.

He’s startled, and she launches into her attack. “It’s so lonely just sitting here in silence, Prince Silvio,” she pouts, and demands that he pay attention to her and not his business deal, or else she’ll never let go. Dredging up the recollection of a wicked woman she’d read about in one of her book and assuming the role, shoving aside embarrassment as she wriggles and clings to him even harder.

She figured, if she made herself enough of an annoyance, he’d kick her out of the meeting. But in actuality…

He’s completely nonresponsive, no reaction whatsoever. She’s been braced for him to chew her out but all she’s getting is crickets and she wonders - did she piss him off SO MUCH that he can’t even form words??

She lifts her head with all sorts of trepidation to peek up at him…and is completely gobsmacked to see his wickedly handsome face is just awash in flaming red.

“...Prince Silvio?” It doesn’t seem like he’s red in the face because he’s angry, and she’s just thinking NO NO WAY HE’D BE ALL SHY, pfft not Silvio -

“...Let go of me, you idiot!” he sputters as he comes back to himself, trying to pull his arm free of her grasp when he freezes all over again and his face somehow manages to turn redder and redder.

Totally baffled, she’s asking what’s wrong as he accuses her of doing this on PURPOSE, but she’s just echoing that in bemusement. He’s half shouting she IS, before he covers his face with his free hand and heaves the world’s biggest sigh, then glances down at her.

Or more accurately, down at his arm, as he manages (still blushing furiously) to point out that she’s touching him. She’s just ??? before it finally clicks, to her horror.

He’s talking about her tiddies, mashed onto his arm as she’s hugging it so tightly.

She lets go in a bigass hurry, just stammering. “N-n-no, I didn’t mean to do that!!”

He’s still totally silent, eyes closed and face still en fuego as she keeps flailing and insisting she didn’t do it on purpose.

When they're rescued (?) by the nobleman coming in apologizing for keeping him waiting. And in an instant 180 Silvio’s recovered, cool as a cucumber, his blush gone so fast as he greets the man that she half wonders if the whole thing was some kinda illusion…but she has the recollection of it seared into her brain.

No WAY….she’s thinking, trying to wrap her brain around what just happened. So stunned she can do little but sit there the entire rest of the meeting.

—---

Afterwards, they're sitting in the carriage in WORLD'S AWKWARDEST SILENCE. Silvio's seated himself diagonally across from her, as far away as he can possibly get in the carriage, and she wonders if he’s still on edge because USUALLY Silvio’s got no problem with them casually touching but he’s clearly making an effort to be out of reach.

She starts to say his name but he cuts her off. “You say one more word, you’re gonna get it.” He’s still got his arm propped in the window, staring out it all moody, refusing to make eye contact with her.

She’s just OHOHO how fascinating…and she gets up all casually and takes a seat next to him, watching him flinch when she does. She can’t help but laugh a little at the sight.

“You…” he warns.

She manages to get out an apology, still amused, and says it’s just too much of a surprise. “Maybe you’re actually terrible with women?”

“No, no way,” he insists, and turns to wrap his arms around her waist suddenly. She realizes though it seems he’s fine with it when HE’S the one instigating the touching, and she’s surprised by the fact that her heart pounds a little with his fancy cologne surrounding her.

Back to his usual cocky self he grins and offers to take her right here and now if she wants.

“Dream on, you gaudy sleaze,” she scoffs.

Still smirking he says he’s going to remember that - and he’s going to make her pay for that, plus the stuff she said to him earlier that day. It seems he’s back in fine tyrant form, she realizes.

He undoes one of the buttons on her blouse, and she’s reminded that she’s got a beast that doesn’t understand the first thing about hearts on her hands here. She’s flailing in disbelief that he was actually serious, and she says his name all alarmed.

She grabs his face to stop him - only to find he’s immediately red again, looking flustered and uncomfortable, frozen in place again at the touch of her hands.

She points out that if this is how it’s going to play out, she doesn’t think he has to force himself to threaten her (she’s clearly about ZERO PERCENT THREATENED hahaha)

He’s just grumpy scowling again. “Quiet - don’t you get the situation you’re in?”

“Yeah. I’m quite certain you can’t do anything more than undo that button,” she challenges, and he’s left to just stare at her wide eyed.

“Bullseye, right?” she crows.

“It’s just that the mood’s been killed,” he blusters, shoving them apart.

He’d totally denied being bad with women, but she’s beginning to wonder - is THAT the reason he’s so dense when it comes to their hearts? He’s got a certain sensitivity that’s completely contrary to his outer appearance, and she realizes she might have accused him without understanding the whole picture. Clearly it’s a shitty thing what he did to those women that loved him but she can’t quit thinking about his whole mindset that ‘money solves everything’.

There must be some reason why he got that idea in the first place, she figures.

And without understanding the why, she regrets having said something like the fact that he would never be loved by anyone.

Silvio's moaning and groaning about how everything is The Worst and he needs a drink - and she offers that if so, she knows a good bar near here.

“You drink?” he asks, and she says she enjoys it somewhat, and he’s back to his usual arrogant grinning self as he tells her to come with him then. “It’s your fault I feel this crappy anyways.”

But she notices he’s put distance between them again, even though there’s not much room to escape each other ina small carriage no matter how much he seems he might want to. It’d be easy to write him off, just tell herself she’d never understand him…but she finds she doesn’t want to. And those sudden feelings confuse her a little.

Meanwhile, Silvio’s in his corner of the carriage grumbling that this wasn’t worth it - not even getting to see Rio’s expression will put this whole fiasco back in the black. (Sir plz just admit you're pissy beyond belief she's got the dirt on you now) But when she asks him what he’d said just now, he brushes it off as nothing and turns away without saying anything else.

Today was a rough day, but in the end she’s glad she got to know the real face of this man. And now that she knows the SQUEEEISHY UNDERBELLY OF SILVIO, that impression she’s always had that he’d be hard to get to know has begun to fade.

THE END (if you made it this far, bless you)

The Sweet Ending can be found here.

The AU epilogue can be found here.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #spoiler #spoilers #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #it says summary up top but it is a lie #in which mrs o shows herself to be a masochist in probably more ways than one #if you ever wanted the ultimate 'arguing counts as flirting right?' couple than boy do i have a pair for you #they're gonna either fight or fck it just depends if they both live long enough for the latter #seriously guys this is so long make sure you have water and provisions before you sit down to it

251 notes · View notes

kodzumie-archived · 3 years

Note

hi! sorry, i think my request was too specific so lemme rephrase: poly! nagito x reader x kokichi, with a loving and considerate reader -💙

❝SWEETHEART’S CONVEYANCE❞

Synopsis; What are the the antongnistic duo like in a polyamorous relationship with a loving partner?

Featuring; Kokichi Oma x GN! Reader x Nagito Komaeda

Warning(s); Polyamorous, romantic relationship, self-degradation (Nagito), and suppression of vulnerability (Kokichi).

Kodzumie’s Note; Ahh, the original request wasn’t too specific, don’t worry, dear! But thank you for being so considerate! And also, thank you for being my first polyamory request! This request makes me so happy, I felt obligated to do it as soon as possible, hehe. And of course you can be our beloved 💙 anon! I’m so happy to have you with us! <3

➤ KOKICHI OMA & NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ Contrary to bystander belief, this relationship would be as boisterous as it is philanthropic; built upon a foundation of veiled compassion.

⤷ Whilst your boyfriends contradict traditional conveyance of affection, there’s no doubt they truly do appreciate you. But neither could compare to the benevolence you’ve granted the duo.

⤷ Albeit in rather old-school conveyance, you persistently seek forms of portrayal for your affections. Whether it be the occasional handwritten notes left beside the plates of breakfast you’d left behind for the two, each expressing your fondness and wishing them a wonderful rest of their day.

⤷ Or even the splurge of gifts for the two, purchasing trinkets you believe they’d enjoy. And, for every dollar spent, it’ll all be worth the million-dollar gleam that brushes upon their eyes.

⤷ Nagito infatuated with the idea that someone would dare spend money on scum like him, much less buy him something they insisted he’d be interested in. It’s a foreign sense, an exotic appreciation in which you’d taken the time out of your schedule to even think of him.

⤷ And as he’s about to spout his gratitude and disbelief upon such devotion to trash such as himself, he’s cut off by the infamous trickster himself.

⤷ “Save that crap. What about me? Where’s my gift? Huh, huh?” Kokichi’s petite stature leaning to the right as he attempts to catch a glimpse of what you could possibly have in store for him.

⤷ Paying no heed to the interruption of his valuation, Nagito smiles fondly as he eyes the amethyst-haired male eagerly bounces on the balls of his heels, awaiting his gift, though impatiently.

⤷ One would assume you’d get fed up at his persistent antics but, in all honesty, it was one of the many things you―along with Nagito―had appreciated.

⤷ Even amidst moments in which the air is stilled, tension doused in the form of metaphoric clouds above your heads, he’s bustling with a rowdiness that shows no hintings of dissipation.

⤷ And as you reveal the gadget hidden behind your back, presenting it to your practically vibrating-in-anticipation boyfriend, you swore not even the stars could capture the illumination of glee that brushed upon his lilac eyes. His hands reaching forward with such fervor that he was seemingly a blur within that very moment.

⤷ “You didn’t!” He professed in disbelief, lips split into a grand smirk as he eyes the gift you’d presented him; a water gun.

⤷ Albeit an inkling of concern swirled within your gut upon his sinister cackle as he testingly aims at Nagito, in which the taller male’s eyes widen in surprise as he raises his hands in surrender―his own gift within his left hand.

⤷ Upon Nagito’s reaction, Kokichi’s cackles morphed into wicked chuckles as he feigns to reload his water gun with imaginative ammo.

⤷ “That’s right, put ‘em up.” He jests. All the while, you rolled your eyes with an amused visage of your own at the sight of your shorter boyfriend’s antics.

⤷ A Pavlovian reaction from the younger male, eagerly jumping the gun—quite literally—and pestering Nagito to engage in his games, claiming he’d be the perfect companion. (Though, by this, it usually meant the perfect individual to carry him piggyback due to his tall stature.)

⤷ Nonetheless, the sight of your boyfriends joining forces against you with the gift you’d bought is undeniably one you cherish. Even as you sprint full speed through the household, dodging the blasts of water aimed towards you.

⤷ Despite Nagito’s persistent insistence that you’d be better suited to entertain Kokichi than a mere nobody like him, the aforementioned amethyst-haired male that assures him he’s the only one capable.

⤷ It isn’t the common occurrence to be of witness to Kokichi’s considerate moments; withdrawing himself from his playful nature to build another’s esteem.

⤷ And thus, it’s even more satisfying to bask in Nagito’s united laughter with Kokichi’s manic cackles as you narrowly avoid a blast of water. The former carrying the ladder on his back—rather easily due to how light Kokichi is—and dashing after you.

⤷ It’s a laugh so carefree—so riddled in unhindered joy—you almost couldn’t believe this was the same, unabashed laugh of your self-degrading boyfriend.

⤷ Not even Kokichi was immune to the flurry of butterflies within the encompass of your stomachs as he, too, smiled giddily upon the melodic laughter, a roseate decorating his pallid cheeks in momentary euphoria.

⤷ In the beginnings of your gifts, Nagito struggled immensly to accept them. Even as he blushed a hue so fiercely—face burning with awe as sweat began to dampen his rosette skin—he insisted he couldn’t accept any gift from someone of your ethereality.

⤷ He swore up and down that he was already taking far too much of you and Kokichi by intruding on the relationship, much less, garner your affections.

⤷ Though, with time, he steadily learned to see past the hindrance of his self-loathing, it was still rather difficult to bear witness to the one who’d claimed both of your hearts to avoid your conveyances due to their poor views of themself.

⤷ Much to your delight, he’s now discovering value within himself as he peers through the lens of you and Kokichi’s combined love. It’s a gradual process but one that you’re more than willing to wait for to see the treasure of Nagito truly loving—if not love—than tolerating himself.

⤷ With every conveyance of your affections, you hope that your love can be transferred to the two, and assist them in melting through the walls of their hindrances; their shields in which they’d desperately hid their vulnerabilities from the world.

⤷ Whether it be through the gifts in which your taller boyfriend would insist that he was undeserving of and promise to return the favor with a gift of his own whilst the shorter would use your gifts against you, similarly to the water gun incident, comically; love letters; domestic care; reassuring consolation; service.

⤷ Anything that could possibly provide insight of the affectiom you’d withheld for the two, you’d committed to with a fiery passion. Not a trace of hesitancy or delay.

⤷ Typically, within the day-to-day, you and Nagito would withhold a majority of the materate responsibilities. Though Nagito eagerly offers to take the workload upon himself entirely, there’s no denying the softening of his eyes as you reject his offer and, rather, offer to take the workload off of him.

⤷ He appreciates your insistence, especially the way you’d put his wellbeing within the realm of priority. A hierarchy he’d never considered himself within, so to think that you could do so much as care for his state is more than he could ever ask for.

⤷ Truth be told, one of Nagito’s favorite domestic activities to complete alongisde you is laundry. The intimacy of being able to sit alongside you and fold the articles of clothing whilst chatting, blissfully distracted, is serene.

⤷ More so, the lighthearted, momentary comedic relief of revealing that your underwear was within his clutches is always a treat. Especially when you’d rapidly swipe the garment with the inklings of embarrassment within your grin.

⤷ Though he does have quite a habit of sniffing the fresh clothing. The extent to which he does so is—by bystander perspective—questionable, but he promises that he merely adores the cleanliness of the warm clothing. (And that even after the garments trip through the washing machine, there still is the lingering of both his lovers’ scents.)

⤷ Kokichi has offered to help at times—though usually with an intentional entirely other than to actually do laundry. The petite, amethyst-haired trickster sedentary between you and Nagito as he sloppily folds the clothes.

⤷ It’s blatant that his mind is elsewhere as he appears less than pleased whilst assisting. Even offering to “spice things up” and tosses a pair of socks at you and Nagito with a wicked giggle.

⤷ Sometimes he’ll even steal some of your—you and Nagito’s—clothes and wear them while working, claiming they make his Ultimate Supreme Leader senses at top-notch. To which Nagito agrees with, mindlessly, as he mumbles something about wanting to appease the wishes of a leader.

⤷ But, of all the domestic activities Kokichi has taken part in—not much but still—he claims that cooking together has to be his favorite.

⤷ Not only because he adores being the taste-tester—of course, as the Ultimate Supreme Leader, he must test it first to assure that it’s adequate for his beloveds—but because he’s enamored with the teamwork; the collaboration.

⤷ Not within a lifetime will Kokichi ever explicitly confess such, but he admires the notion of teamwork. To make a collaborative effort and genuinely place dependence upon one another to reach an end goal... he finds the idea to be so far from the encompass of his will that he adores the conception of it.

⤷ He, himself, struggles with depending on others. Opting for completing everything on his own and taking charge in the form of claiming stake upon the workload.

⤷ So being able to ask of you to grab something and to be able to complete the order asked of him—he’s usually the mixer—it’s euphoric for him. And, along with this, he truly does enjoy cooking.

⤷ Though his skills are rather questionable due to only being able to properly create a selective variety of dishes. But when he does succeed, it’s an absolute delight to be able to taste it. Nagito sometimes claims the dishes to be something akin to that of an Ultimate Chef.

⤷ A love delievered through the swan-sunken eyes of sensuality, fingers brushed upon one another as you go about your daily lives, is a love in which your two lovers value above all. To be cared for even when there are other priorities, it’s empowering.

⤷ However, amidst the serenity of the closest of affections, nothing can counter their equally preferred time of day; the nighttime cuddles.

⤷ Laying atop the mattress that could just about fit the three of you, entangled limbs drawing each of you closer as the warmth of the blanket barely rivals that of your bodies. Each of your breaths rhythmic of one another.

⤷ Kokichi’s form—by his drowsy request—between your bodies as he rests his back against Nagito’s chest, gazing up at you with a rare yet genuine grin riddled with the inklings of slumber.

⤷ The aforementioned male coiling his arms around the waist of your boyfriend, too, has his arm extenting outwards towards you, pulling you into the spooning as well. Much to Kokichi’s delight, the ladder instantaneously latching his legs around your hips, pulling you into his arms.

⤷ Yet the most blissful of these moments in which true adorations lie is the most miniscule of all. It’s so peaceful; such tranquility to be within each other’s arms as each of you is gradually lulled to sleep.

⤷ And yet, it’s as uneventful as it is impactful. Perhaps it was the nights in which each of your boyfriends felt sleep come easier? Perhaps it was the warmth of your collective bodies that brought upon the savory bliss?

⤷ Or perhaps it was the way that as each of them gazed upon—meeting your eyes with each of their infatuated own—there was a fire alit. One in which, after the periods in which you’ve all spent together; learned together; changed together, had never seemed to fade.

⤷ Not even as they, too, know they’re pushing your limits, irritating you to no bounds. Not even as they find their moment sin which they’re far too sluggish to be of decent assistance. Not even during the meltdowns in which they’d shut you out of their heart and recline to their suppressive defense.

⤷ There was never a moment in which the flames of had dwindled; an eternal ember of compassion. Not even throughout the sabotage of their demeanor. And not even as you flutter your eyes shut, enveloping slumber within your embrace.

⤷ The searing of love within your eyes had never faltered and that, on its own, is enough to reign over each of their hearts—assuring them that they, truly, are lovable without condition—and lull them to sleep as well.

#sdr2 x reader #dr2 x reader #ndrv3 x reader #drv3 x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #kokichi x reader #kokichi oma x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito hcs #nagito imagines #kokichi headcanons #danganronpa hcs #danganronpa scenarios

296 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Without a Path - Chapter 2 - ao3

Warnings: adult content - please mind the other tags on Ao3!

Morning came far sooner than Lan Qiren would have liked.

Unsurprisingly, he woke first, the habit long ingrained by his sect’s rules. Instead of rising, he twisted to look at Nie Mingjue, who had at some point wrapped himself around him like an especially warm blanket, his chin tucked in against his neck.

In the pale light of predawn, he looked calm and undisturbed. He looked young, and vulnerable, and like he shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that.

Lan Qiren let out a shuddering breath and wondered how he would ever justify this to – anyone.

Lan Xichen, for one. Himself, for another.

Nie Mingjue.

A moment later, far too soon, Nie Mingjue started stirring. Lan Qiren suppressed a moment of panic; he’d only had enough time to briefly clean himself, nothing else – for some reason he’d thought he would have more time to collect himself, to make a plan for their next steps. They would need to arrange an engagement, even if they didn’t go through with the actual marriage – Wen Ruohan hadn’t seemed like he would publicize what had happened in order to force them into a corner, since he was clearly still angling to get Nie Mingjue himself, but having something prepared would put them in a better situation, reduce anxiety…

“Teacher Lan?”

Lan Qiren flinched.

“Sect Leader Lan,” Nie Mingjue corrected himself quickly. He sat up, the blanket Lan Qiren had tugged over the two of them falling off to reveal the fact that he was still naked. “Thank you.”

Somehow, that was the thing that went too far.

“Don’t thank me,” Lan Qiren said, voice harsher than he meant it to be, unwelcoming and unfriendly. Nie Mingjue’s cultivation was high enough that he’d healed away most of the marks from the day before, but his lips were still red and Lan Qiren couldn’t stop seeing Wen Ruohan’s fingers slipping between them, violating him despite Nie Mingjue’s specific request that it not be allowed. Couldn’t stop hearing Wen Ruohan’s offer to share him, his suggestion that he would’ve invited Lan Qiren to join in, his expectation that he would have accepted.

He’d promised to help Nie Mingjue, and what had he done? He’d failed him. He hadn’t been able to think of another way out of their dilemma, which he should have – instead he’d used his former student’s body for his own pleasure, taken advantage of his youth and desperation, had him submit to him, had him call him teacher…

He might as well have been Jin Guangshan.

“There’s no need for you to thank me for what I’ve done to you,” he said, averting his eyes, hating himself.

“There is,” Nie Mingjue said. “Don’t get some stupid idea into your head or anything. You saved my life. You made it –”

He choked, and Lan Qiren turned to look at him again. Nie Mingjue’s cheeks were flushed, but he was looking straight at him, fierce and determined to say his thoughts no matter what.

“You made it better than it might have otherwise been,” he finally said. “It was – good.”

“That would be the drug,” Lan Qiren said, feeling his own cheeks burning. “Two drugs, in fact; you were right about that. Wen Ruohan admitted it.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his nose when Lan Qiren looked at him sharply. “I remember some of it. I was…supposed to, I think. You drove him away.”

He had. Through sheer bravado, but he’d managed it.

At least he’d done that much.

“You’ll need to be careful of him in the future,” he warned, and Nie Mingjue nodded, his expression grim. “He won’t give up easily.”

“I’ll be careful,” Nie Mingjue promised, but then his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject. It wasn’t just – because of the drug. You…” He flailed a bit. “You made it good. I liked – when you –”

He shook his head.

Lan Qiren cleared his throat, embarrassed and unsure of why Nie Mingjue continued to dwell on the point. He appreciated the younger man’s attempt to comfort him – another failing on his part, as he was the elder, the experienced one, and he had chosen freely, while Nie Mingjue had been coerced – but they really ought to focus on the more practical realities of –

“Can we do it again?”

Lan Qiren choked on air.

“Just – once more,” Nie Mingjue said. He was staring at the bedding. “I know I’m not – what you would want. You’re a Lan, you only want to be with your ‘one’, and I’m not…well, anyway, it’s not a situation where I can exactly let people know, is it? But since we’re both here already, we might as well. Right?”

If Lan Qiren had been Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue would already be pressed down, Lan Qiren reflected, and he couldn’t deny that certain parts of him were interested in that. But a lifetime of restraint gave him the discipline he needed to think the request through and see that it was not so clear as all that.

“What’s driving this?” Lan Qiren asked, crossing his arms. “You are not a man who succumbs so easily to lust.”

“I’m not,” Nie Mingjue acknowledged, meeting his eyes. “But I want there to be no mistake about what occurred between us.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I should think it was quite clear.”

“It is, to me. I was in desperation, and you aided me, and it was good. The circumstances were not what either of us would have chosen, and perhaps not the partner, either, but I will not have you going home and torturing yourself into seclusion because you think that you took advantage of me. Xichen would never forgive me!”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “I would not!” he squawked, thinking to himself that he didn’t need the reminder that he’d bedded a man who was friends with his nephew.

Besides, Nie Mingjue was wrong: yes, he’d been feeling guilty, even agonizingly guilty, but there were limits to such things. Lan Qiren still had two nephews and a sect to run; he couldn’t follow his brother’s example and abandon all his responsibilities no matter how badly he felt.

Nie Mingjue did not appear convinced.

“Even if I did have such an inclination, you don’t have to have sex with me to disprove it,” Lan Qiren insisted.

“Maybe I want to,” Nie Mingjue said stubbornly. “Maybe I’d like to know what sex is like when I’m not drugged to the gills, and this is my only opportunity.”

“But it isn’t,” Lan Qiren argued. “Sect Leader Wen made it clear that he wouldn’t press for a marriage, and no one else knows – you’ll be able to return to your sect, continue as Sect Leader. You could take another lover –”

“Oh, because that’ll work,” Nie Mingjue said, and now he was the one with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed in a glare. “Even if Wen Ruohan won’t press the matter now, he’s only doing it because he still thinks he can do better. If I were to go to bed with someone else, someone neither you nor him, you really think he’d hesitate? And then I’d be an adulterer as well.”

That was – a very good point.

“It was my first time, Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said, pressing his advantage the moment he saw that he was gaining some ground. He was a fearsome opponent, whether in battle or out. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe I had some ideas of my own, things I wanted to try out…”

“Like what?” Lan Qiren asked, cutting him off with an arched eyebrow. He didn’t actually think Nie Mingjue was pushing this idea for his own purposes, even he was making a solid argument; this was all a roundabout means of ensuring that Lan Qiren wouldn’t go into seclusion over his guilt.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue spluttered a little, and Lan Qiren smiled, intending on pointing out that neither of them were in any state to be having this discussion – that surely after some time and sober reflection they would be able to come up with a better way to deal with the threat of Wen Ruohan and societal expectations both – except he never got the chance to say it before Nie Mingjue blurted out, “I want to suck your cock.”

Lan Qiren stared.

Nie Mingjue looked back at him, defiant. “Well?” he said, challenge clear in his voice. “You’re not going to let the only memory I have on my tongue be Wen Ruohan, are you, Teacher Lan?”

Lan Qiren should refuse him. He should insist on them both pulling back – on Nie Mingjue getting dressed, he was still without a stitch of clothing on him – on taking some time to think before doing anything he couldn’t get back.

He shouldn’t be leaning back against the wall and waving his hand in implied permission.

He definitely shouldn’t do that, which is why he was so surprised to find that he was, in fact, doing it.

Nie Mingjue rose up on his knees and bent down with the recklessness aggression that was more characteristic of him than the hesitation of the day before, pushing aside Lan Qiren’s robes, and Lan Qiren was struck by a sudden, visceral memory of the day before, his cock shining with traces of Nie Mingjue’s own slick on it.

He didn’t have time to think about that too long, though, before his cock, already hard enough to ache, was disappearing into Nie Mingjue’s eager mouth.

It took Nie Mingjue a few tries to figure out what exactly to do – at first he let Lan Qiren’s cock into his cheek, and then to his throat, nearly choking when he did, and finally helped himself with his hand to Lan Qiren’s balls as if to steady himself, and he seemed uncertain as to whether he ought to be sucking or using his tongue or simply letting Lan Qiren’s cock sit on his tongue, trying one after the other without much distinction.

It was awful.

It was amazing.

Nie Mingjue’s hair was entirely loose now, falling over his face and onto Lan Qiren’s thighs, his expression intent and focused as if he were training his saber, his mouth full of Lan Qiren’s cock.

Lan Qiren found his hands drifting up and over towards him and restrained himself, forcing them back to his sides, but Nie Mingjue saw him and pulled up, wiping the drool off the corner of his mouth with the back of his palm.

“Teacher Lan,” he said. “This unlearned student humbly requests his teacher’s guidance.”

It was a lot harder to hide his interest when his cock was twitching in Nie Mingjue’s grip, Lan Qiren thought. He reached out and ran his fingers through Nie Mingjue’s hair, making the other man shiver.

“Students should not be impertinent,” he said, and Nie Mingjue swallowed hard. “If I agree to teach you, will you be obedient?”

“Yes, Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Qiren guided his mouth back to his cock.

Nie Mingjue was, as always, a fast learner, even if the subject Lan Qiren was instructing him in was something he himself had little experience in beyond his fantasies. He avoided using teeth, cleverly applied his tongue, and sucked him enthusiastically, eagerly taking more into his mouth as soon as he could, tears springing into the corners of his eyes. He even obeyed Lan Qiren’s order to put his hands behind his back, hands clasping onto wrists, and allowed Lan Qiren to fuck his face, his fingers dug into his hair and scalp as his hips set a bruising pace.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth?” Lan Qiren asked when the possibility seemed close by, releasing him enough to pull off.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, and his voice was a little hoarse. Hoarse from the use Lan Qiren had made of his throat, Lan Qiren thought, and noted that it was his cock that was shiny with spit this time, not Wen Ruohan’s fingers. A much better mental image. Perhaps there was something to Nie Mingjue’s idea of moving past yesterday’s events after all, though that might just be Lan Qiren’s libido making retroactive justifications. “Can I…on top?”

“You want to ride me?” Lan Qiren asked, and Nie Mingjue nodded, looking shamefaced. “You may.”

He said it as if he were granting Nie Mingjue a favor, but he watched avidly as Nie Mingjue clambered over to him, straddling him and kneeling above him, and swallowed when he realized that Nie Mingjue had yet to release his hands from behind his back – he hadn’t been given permission, so he hadn’t.

“Good boy,” Lan Qiren praised, and Nie Mingjue bit his lip. “You may use your hands to guide me inside.”

Nie Mingjue ended up having to finger himself open first to get him in there, grumbling about his healing speed, but Lan Qiren didn’t object to the delay – not when it gave him the front row seat to such an appealing show. Not when Nie Mingjue grunted as if struck when he finally pressed down in just the right way and Lan Qiren’s cock slipped inside of him.

“You’re so fucking big,” Nie Mingjue hissed, clearly not meaning it as a compliment as he put one arm on Lan Qiren’s shoulder to brace himself. “This is ridiculous. Other people aren’t like this.”

Lan Qiren was aware that he was above average in that particular regard, although not monstrously so. “Have you seen others?” he asked, curious, and was surprised when Nie Mingjue nodded.

“The Unclean Realm has common baths,” he reminded him. “Hot springs.”

Lan Qiren had known that, of course – had even taken advantage of them several times when visiting on discussion conferences or otherwise – but somehow he hadn’t expected that Nie Mingjue would have shared the baths with other men. He supposed that was his own failure of imagination and his unfamiliarity with the whole notion of misalignment, despite having disciplined his thoughts to accept it - after all, Nie Mingjue might be misaligned, might have the body of a woman, but he was a man of the Qinghe Nie, and the penalties for sexual misconduct in that sect were even stricter than the Lan sect’s. If he was recognized as a man, then surely he was a man, with all that entailed, and of course it would presumably have been even more inappropriate for him to go to the women’s baths…

He lost the train of thought entirely a moment later when, apparently impatient to get to it, Nie Mingjue proceeded to shove himself halfway down, impaling himself open on his cock. Lan Qiren caught his hips before he did himself any damage. “Slowly,” he snapped, then reined himself in. “Please recall that it is also a sensitive area for me.”

“Right,” Nie Mingjue said, flushing. “Of course. Slowly?”

“Slowly.”

Nie Mingjue gingerly settled himself the rest of the way down, sliding until he was fully seated, his cunt stretched wide across Lan Qiren’s cock. In the light of dawn, hair a mess and body still sticky with yesterday’s sweat, he looked beautiful as he started slowly working his hips up and down, his hand sliding in between his legs to rub at his clit as he started riding Lan Qiren in earnest.

“You’re doing so well,” Lan Qiren said. “Taking me so well. Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue panted. “Yes – yes. Like this. Like yesterday. It’s good.”

Lan Qiren brushed his hair back and touched him, ran his hands over his cheeks, his swollen lips, over his shoulders and down his sides, put his hands on his thighs and his hips, slid them back to cup his ass.

“Good,” he said, rocking his hips up to meet him. “I want you to feel good.”

“Can I –” Nie Mingjue started, and then hesitated.

Lan Qiren couldn’t help feeling a stab of humor. “Is there really something you’re afraid to ask me?” he inquired sternly. “Now?”

He squeezed Nie Mingjue’s ass with his hands, fingers kneading the firm flesh, one even slipping back to rub across his hole, and Nie Mingjue flushed.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out, and Lan Qiren stilled.

Had they not…? No, he supposed they hadn’t. They’d fucked several times in several positions, Nie Mingjue had even gotten on his knees and put his cock into his mouth, and Lan Qiren hadn’t once kissed him.

“You may,” he said, his voice softening, and Nie Mingjue surged forward to press their lips together. It was a bad kiss by any objective criteria, too hard and noses bumping into each other, and Nie Mingjue had no idea what he was supposed to do with his tongue, whether to stick it into Lan Qiren’s mouth or simply jab it at him; after a moment he tried to pull back, looking embarrassed.

Lan Qiren caught him by the chin and drew him back in, trying to show him with his own lips what to do.

They kissed for a while, long, wet, slow kisses in the light of the morning dawn, Nie Mingjue in Lan Qiren’s lap with Lan Qiren’s cock seated firmly in his cunt, their hands in each other’s hair.

Lan Qiren felt something a little strange, a pulling sensation and then something falling, and then a moment later Nie Mingjue pulled back with a small exclamation of surprise: he’d accidentally tugged Lan Qiren’s forehead ribbon free. While it was bound tightly, its position reinforced with magic, Lan Qiren hadn’t rearranged it since the evening before, when it had undoubtedly become loose during their activities.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, watching as the ribbon fluttered down, twining with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to –”

Lan Qiren rose up in a sudden movement and pushed him back onto the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he announced, suddenly giddy – like any good Lan, his ribbon was his self-restraint, and must never be touched by any but his parents, his children, or his lover. It belatedly occured to him that per that last exception, Nie Mingjue was at the moment unquestionably permitted. “Put your hands above your head.”

Nie Mingjue looked confused, but obeyed at once – such a good student – and gaped when Lan Qiren looped his forehead ribbon around his wrists, tying him to the bed.

“You can hold onto it if you like,” Lan Qiren told him kindly, and then set about fucking him as enthusiastically as he might have ever imagined doing to a lover. Nie Mingjue did end up clutching at the ribbon as if for balance, yielding completely to Lan Qiren’s whims as he fucked him in multiple positions, pushing his body around as if it was his own personal doll.

They ended up side by side, with Lan Qiren penetrating Nie Mingjue from behind and Nie Mingjue having freed one hand – with Lan Qiren’s permission, of course – to frantically touch himself as Lan Qiren fucked him. He came first, body shuddering, and Lan Qiren took advantage of his suddenly slack body to curl up against him and use him mercilessly before he, too, reached completion, spilling into that warm, wet heat.

“Fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, panting as Lan Qiren pulled out and sat up. He sounded impressed. “I see why you keep those on.”

Lan Qiren retrieved his forehead ribbon from where it was still looped around Nie Mingjue’s other hand and settled it back in place on his forehead before starting to gather up the rest of his clothing, discarded at some point in the morning’s proceedings as it had not been the evening before. “You did too well in my classes for me to think that you don’t know that that is not how that works,” he said primly, and was rewarded with Nie Mingjue’s smile.

Truly a handsome young man.

His lover. Apparently.

The last few days had been full of terrible decisions, this morning’s almost certainly among them, but he was suddenly having trouble feeling regret. It was difficult to think of himself as another Jin Guangshan, careless and ruthless with the bodies of others, when his own lover looked pleased as a smug cat and just as satisfied. When only moments before he’d been whimpering out pleas for more amidst moans of pleasure that Lan Qiren had himself wrung from his body.

Perhaps Nie Mingjue had had a point, about the seclusion. He would not have actually retreated from the world as his brother did, but he might have tried to punish himself in other ways, withdrawing from the things he liked best – teaching, for one – without considering that Nie Mingjue was, unlike his actual students, an adult capable of making his own decisions, having his own calculus of what was acceptable and what was not.

“I’ll call for baths to be prepared,” he decided. They really did have to discuss their next steps, even if his own forward thinking was currently restricted to his intense need to clean himself thoroughly.

“Excellent idea,” Nie Mingjue said, sitting up himself and rubbing his wrists. “I feel absolutely filthy – sticky all over. I’ve ended night-hunts, good ones, and still been less sweaty than this…”

Lan Qiren made the mistake of looking at Nie Mingjue as he stretched himself and swallowed abruptly when he saw the place between his thighs, still reddened from their joining, and the trickle of fluid that slowly seeped down and dripped onto his thigh.

His first reaction was a smug feeling of pride and possession.

His second –

“I shouldn’t have finished inside of you,” he abruptly realized. He’d been thinking of Nie Mingjue as a man, and one could sow seeds all one liked with a man without concern that one of them might take root - but even if Nie Mingjue was a man in his mind and soul, his body was not. “The storm has passed, but the hill is likely to be still impassible for some time yet. I don’t know if there will be appropriate medicine available…”

Nie Mingjue stared at him briefly, then abruptly sniggered. “You’re worrying about that now?” he asked, eyes curved up into crescents. “Teacher, how many times did you come inside of me yesterday?”

It had in fact been rather a lot.

He resisted defending himself by arguing that even if it might not have been strictly necessary as a technical matter, it was surely unavoidable because they wouldn’t have been able to tolerate a few more rounds; Nie Mingjue wasn’t even accusing him of anything.

“Aren’t you concerned?” Lan Qiren asked hesitantly. “About the possibility of a –” He choked a little. “Of a child?”

“I’d resigned myself to the risk from the start,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug that was, in Lan Qiren’s view, taking things far too casually. “Medicine taken after the fact is notoriously unreliable – there are plenty of children in the world that owe their births to that! There’s nothing to be done about it, so don’t panic unnecessarily. It’ll be what it is, and at least the child, if there is one, won’t be surnamed Wen.”

It would serve Wen Ruohan’s purposes very well to ensure that Nie Mingjue was impregnated, Lan Qiren thought, panicking a perfectly reasonable amount in his opinion. What better way to show off his power and dominion over the powerful Nie sect than to force their sect leader to bear him a child? There were medicines to increase fertility as well, even if most doctors recommended against them, and of course Wen Ruohan wouldn’t care about the increased risk, even though even the strongest female cultivators often died in the birthing bed…

Even putting aside the risks, he’d never really thought too closely about having a child of his own. What would his nephews think of all this? They were still young, especially little Wangji – would they think he was seeking to replace them? Would they –

“– teacher? Sect Leader Lan?”

Lan Qiren blinked and forced himself to pay attention to Nie Mingjue, who was now fully dressed and standing in front of him. He looked much as he always did, tall and powerful, indominable – it was far too early for there to be any signs if he was pregnant, of course, but Lan Qiren couldn’t help but examine him with his eyes, wondering. Was it possible that even now…?

“Did I break you?” Nie Mingjue asked, and waved his hand in front of Lan Qiren’s eyes.

“You did not,” Lan Qiren said, finally recovering some of his dignity. “I was merely distracted. The baths –”

“I’ve already asked for them,” Nie Mingjue said, smirking. “You may need to have a conversation with your attendants regarding discretion – I doubt they missed the smell – but baths will be ready soon. We rose early enough that we’ll be able to bathe, change clothing, and still make it to the first meeting of the day, though I expect that will be cancelled on account of crisis.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Crisis? Are you planning…”

He trailed off, abruptly disappointed in himself. He’d been about to ask if Nie Mingjue were planning on confronting Wen Ruohan for what he’d done, and to counsel against it – they could not afford to start a war, his sect would never support a war – but then he hadn’t been the target of Wen Ruohan’s scheme, even if he’d been involuntarily pulled into the mire. Who was he to tell Nie Mingjue that he couldn’t even vent his frustration?

“Oh, not me,” Nie Mingjue said, his thoughts clearly not following Lan Qiren’s at all from the faint smirk on his face. “Collateral damage only.”

“…oh?”

“Your attendants brought gossip as well as breakfast,” Nie Mingjue said, looking positively smug. “And I had time to send my own attendants to do the same for Sect Leader Jiang.”

Now Lan Qiren was truly lost. Nie Mingjue looked like a cat that had just brought home some murdered prey and wanted to be praised for it, but he couldn’t figure out what it was that he’d done. “Sect Leader Jiang?” he asked, bemused and deciding to put aside his attendants’ behavior for the moment. “You sent him – breakfast and news?”

“Breakfast, and a tonic to help ease any side-effects of the drug he, like the two of us, was dosed with,” Nie Mingjue said. “I imagine he’ll be very relieved to know he has something to blame for his conduct last night.”

“His – oh no,” Lan Qiren said. “One of the dancers?”

“One of the dancers,” Nie Mingjue confirmed.

“Yu Ziyuan –” Is going to cut off his balls and wear them as earrings. “– will not be pleased.”

“No, I imagine not.”

Lan Qiren studied Nie Mingjue. “Did you, by chance, happen to mention who was responsible for putting the drugs in his food?”

“Naturally. I even mentioned that the bottle I found in the kitchens appeared to be stamped with the mark of a Lanling glassmaker.”

Lan Qiren pinched the brow of his nose. Jiang Fengmian was a very easy-going man, most of the time, but his extremely vicious wife was his bottom line – he would undoubtedly kick up his version of a fuss with both Wen Ruohan and Jin Guangshan, and his version of a fuss, while not violent, was extremely time-consuming. The morning and, very likely, the afternoon, were almost certain to be a complete waste of everyone’s time.

“A bath first,” Lan Qiren said, deciding not to think about it. “And then we should discuss out next steps.”

“A bath for sure,” Nie Mingjue said, and scrubbed his face, satisfaction at sending a disaster to his enemies’ doorstep fading in favor of his habitual scowl. “As for next steps…I don’t think there’s anything to be done. We’re not prepared for a war and I can’t beat Wen Ruohan in a duel, so there’s no point in calling him out, especially as most of the cultivation world would say that nothing actually bad came of it.”

They would, too, and probably imply that Nie Mingjue had brought his fate upon himself by being born the way he was born and then not conforming himself to the accepted behaviors of the sex of his birth.

They would also then proceed to congratulate Lan Qiren and he would be forced to murder them to make them stop (and then he would need to retreat to seclusion), so it was probably all for the best that Nie Mingjue wasn’t being reckless.

“If he’s not going to press for a marriage, then we write up an engagement contract and sit on it,” Nie Mingjue concluded. “We carry on as we always have, each of us in our own sects, and, with luck, no one finds out that it exists except for the two of us.”

“For how long?”

“Until Wen Ruohan is defeated,” Nie Mingjue said, then amended, “Or until you find someone else you wish to marry, of course. I would not stand between you and your ‘one’.”

Lan Qiren had his nephews and his sect to care for; he had precious few opportunities to leave his sect to meet new people, and even fewer people would be interested in him, knowing that he was only a stand-in with all the responsibilities and none of the privileges. He had already resigned himself to not even thinking of marriage until his nephews were old enough to inherit the role of sect leader.

“I do not expect that to be an issue,” he said briefly, then glanced at Nie Mingjue’s midsection. “What if…?”

“We’ll find out in a month or so,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging. “No point in worrying about it until then, is there?”

It was times like this that Lan Qiren appreciated and also despised the brutal practicality of the Nie sect.

“Very well,” he said, and tried not to wonder if the child would be surnamed Nie or Lan, assuming it even existed. Though perhaps it was a cruelty of him to think of it, given… “How old are you?”

Nie Mingjue gave him a strange look, which Lan Qiren supposed he deserved, knowing as he did that the Qinghe Nie did not share that information.

“Just – you’re of age?” he tried. “An adult?”

“I’m old enough,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “There are younger than me that have been mothers safely.”

That wasn’t entirely what Lan Qiren was asking, but he knew he wouldn’t get a better response, and in all truth he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know, either. Knowing wouldn’t change what he’d done – what they’d done together – and shamefully it probably wouldn’t make his desire to do it again any less.

He vaguely heard a distant crash.

“Oh, good!” Nie Mingjue said. “Sect Leader Jiang woke up.”

Lan Qiren grimaced and went to bathe. He would deal with this – with all of this, up to and including his emotional reaction to everything that had happened in the past day – later.

For now, he would carry on.

Everything else could wait.

It did.

Years later, when the war they had tried so hard to prevent was won – when Lan Qiren had been nearly crippled by Wen Xu, who Nie Mingjue later beheaded – when Nie Mingjue was the war god of the cultivation world, and Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren’s nephew who had once been so young, was now renowned as a heaven-sent bringer of mercy, when the two of them had sworn brotherhood along with the man who had (finally) killed Wen Ruohan and brought an end to the cultivation world’s long nightmare – Nie Mingjue came to the Cloud Recesses on foot through the mountain path.

This was, of course, the most irritating way to get to the Cloud Recesses, so it was no surprise that Lan Xichen was waiting patiently for him by the gate, an expression of curiosity writ large all over his face to those who knew him well enough to read it.

“Is something the matter?” he asked the moment Nie Mingjue made it to the gate. “Is Baxia…?”

“Baxia’s fine, I’m fine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, I may be thinking something terribly rude about your ancestors in relation to that last hill, but I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

He wouldn’t be the first, or the last, to think such things. There was a reason some of their more reasonable ancestors had invested in stairs for the main entrance, strong cultivators or not.

“Can we speak in private?” he added. “In your study, perhaps – and you should invite your uncle.”

Lan Xichen looked even more intrigued. “Of course, da-ge. At once.”

It was a little presumptuous of him to promise such a thing, given that Lan Qiren might have been busy, but he wasn’t. He certainly wasn’t skulking around the entrance gate along with far too many others in his sect, wondering why Nie Mingjue hadn’t ridden a horse or taken the easy way up along the stairs that had been put in place for just that reason, although one might be forgiven for thinking that that was what he was doing – at any rate, there was no conflict, and so they all three of them went to Lan Xichen’s rooms.

The sect leader’s rooms, now. It was still a little strange.

“I’ll have someone fetch us tea,” Lan Xichen said, but Nie Mingjue shook his head. “No?”

“Don’t preempt me,” Nie Mingjue said, and pulled a qiankun pouch out of his sleeve. “Tea is part of the gifts I brought.”

“Gifts,” Lan Xichen repeated, his eyes going wide and a little worried. He knew, and Lan Qiren knew, what that might mean. “You brought gifts?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Walk on a road with no path, bearing gifts,” he recited, and Lan Qiren felt his heart try to stop in his chest at the confirmation of Nie Mingjue’s intention. “That’s how proper wedding proposals are done in the Lan sect, aren’t they?”

“Under…certain circumstances,” Lan Xichen admitted. He put his hands behind his back to hide his anxiety. “Da-ge…you’ve always been a – very good friend –”

“Of many years running,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “I’m not going to lie; I’m hoping to capitalize on that to get your approval.”

“My…approval?” Lan Xichen asked, astonished, and rightfully so: he was no one’s father, so his approval would only be required for those whose parents had already died – a function of his role as sect leader. Yet, sect leader or not, no one could grant their approval over their own marriage, and that meant that Nie Mingjue was not, as Lan Xichen had so clearly feared, here to propose to him – poor Lan Xichen, who was exclusively interested in women and who had on account of that already needed to subtly turn down the advances of his other sworn brother. “You want my approval?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m here for your uncle.”

“My – shufu?!”

“We’re already engaged, so that should make it easier to get it through your sect elders,” Nie Mingjue said. “I still wanted to do it right, though.”

Lan Qiren covered his eyes with his hands as Lan Xichen exclaimed, far too loudly, “You’re engaged?! To shufu? Since when?!”

There were several audible thunk sounds from outside the hanshi. Several people would need to be punished for eavesdropping, and by morning they would probably need to discipline the entire sect for breaching the prohibition against gossip.

“Oh, ages,” Nie Mingjue said blithely, and Lan Qiren resisted the urge to try to wring his neck. “I think you were something like fifteen? It was something of a matter of circumstance at the time, though I like to think we’ve reached an understanding in the ensuing years.”

Lan Xichen’s mouth kept moving, but no sound was coming out.

“Are you intending on me marrying into your sect?” Lan Qiren asked, deciding to move onto the practicalities while his nephew processed his shock.

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Obviously you can come to the Cloud Recesses as much as required to assist Xichen with his responsibilities, but your reputation as a teacher is such that I’m sure you would be able to teach just as well from the Unclean Realm.”

“Statements like that may lead my sect elders to think that you’re trying to poach me.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on starting my pitch to them by pointing out that the Unclean Realm has more surfaces we can fuck against, was I?”

Lan Xichen made an extremely high-pitched sound from the back of his throat.

“I would advise against making that argument, yes,” Lan Qiren said with a sigh. “However, it would be more helpful to point out how this would mitigate their concern regarding additional collateral branches in the main lineage of the Lan clan.”

“I’ll take your advice,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ll also read your agreement to the entire concept into it. Well, Xichen? You going to let me steal your uncle away or what?”

“I would hardly term it as stealing –”

“You had sex?!” Lan Xichen shouted. “With my uncle?! And – uncle! You! With Mingjue-xiong?!”

“This may take a while,” Lan Qiren said to Nie Mingjue, maintaining his dignity.

“I’m going to tell Wangji!”

“Possibly a long while,” he revised.

“I’ll go wait in your quarters then, shall I?”

“You will,” Lan Qiren said testily, “wait in the guest quarters to which you will be assigned, as is appropriate.”

Nie Mingjue grinned at him. “Oh, all right,” he said. “Maybe I’ll go to the library and read up on interpretations regarding your sect’s rules on promiscuity between engaged couples.”

“Da-ge!”

“Sect Leader Nie, don’t make this worse. Go already.”

“I’m going, I’m going…”

Lan Qiren would not start his married life by strangling his intended, no matter how much of a troublemaker he was being. Though he might put him over his knee later on.

Something to think about.

#mdzs #lan qiren #nie mingjue #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #without a path

94 notes · View notes

rosaliestark01 · 3 years

Text

Moral of the Story

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Requested by @itspetitfantomestuff: There's this amazing song called "Moral of the Story" by Ashe ft. Niall Horan, and in one of Niall's lines he says "Talking with your father he said that you could be mine" which gave me huge PeterXStark!Reader vibes, i was wondering if i can request an angsty story with Peter Parker and Stark!Reader based in that song pretty please?🥺❤️

Warnings: Angst, swearing, unhealthy relationship, the song made me cry 😢

So I never really knew you God, I really tried to Blindsided, addicted Thought we could really do this But really, I was foolish Hindsight, it's obvious

Peter Parker was a shoulder to cry on after your father sacrificed himself to save half the population. Neither of you had been particularly close to one another. You both went to different schools, had other friends, but you did have one thing in common. You were both mourning your dad.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asked as he sat down next to you on the dock at your father's eco-compound. The funeral had just officially ended, and the majority of guests were staying for the "reception."

"Numb," you mutter to him, not wanting to raise your voice in fear that he'd be able to hear how much pain you were really in. "You?"

Instead of answering, he began to tear up. In all the times you've interacted with him, he was always cheerful and happy to help anybody who needed it. For some reason, seeing him like this simply added to your pain.

"None of this should have happened," he finally exclaimed. He let his head fall into his hands, and you resisted the urge to hug him. You didn't have that kind of relationship with him. "If I'd been stronger, I could've-"

"You couldn't. He cared about you too, you know," you cut him off. You instantly looked away from him, not wanting him to see the tears welling up in your eyes from your sorrow and embarrassment that he heard the crack in your voice. "He did this for all of us."

"I know. I just wish I could've done something. It's not fair," He croaked. This time, you let yourself place your hand on his.

"Nothing ever is."

Talking with my lawyer She said, "Where'd you find this guy?" I said, "Young people fall in love With the wrong people sometimes"

You could still remember the way his lips felt against yours as he kissed you for the first time that night. You both needed something to cling to, so you clung to each other in hopes that you both could dull the pain at least a bit. By the end of the summer, you were dating, but it felt more like coping.

You still wonder if it was compassion that led to that kiss or if it was just the fact that nobody understood your grief better than each other. Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it as much as you feel you should. You couldn't get yourself to care that it didn't feel like love.

Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay You can think that you're in love When you're really just in pain Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay In the end, it's better for me That's the moral of the story, babe

"I'm sorry, it just reminded me of him too much," Peter cried into your shoulder as he recounted what had happened. Apparently, he was going through some old photographs when he came across one of him as a child wearing an Iron Man mask. Your dad had been his hero, his idol.

"I know what you mean," you tell him, resisting the urge to cry yourself. You'd think that after a few months that it'd have gotten better. "It's like, no matter where I go, there's always something that reminds me of him. I don't know how to stop it."

This time, Peter was the one to comfort you. He knew that he'd been conflicted on whether or not this could be called love, or if it was even close, but he felt a need to tell you the one thing that kept playing in his mind at this moment,

"I love you."

"I love you too."

It's funny how a memory Turns into a bad dream And running wild turns volatile It's not funny how it changes Ended up like strangers We burned down our paper house

Peter couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't what love was supposed to feel like. Compared to other happy couples, the way that the two of you "love" each other didn't seem right. You were a shoulder to cry on, but he doesn't remember a single time since the two of you had gotten together that either of you had a memorably happy moment together.

Every single day, he worries that you'll realize this and end things with him. To everybody else, this probably doesn't seem like the kind of thing that is meant to last, yet he hopes to god that it does. He wants things to get better because, at one point, he believed that he really did love you.

Talking with your father He said that you could be mine But some people fall in love With the wrong people sometimes

Mr.Stark was well aware of Peter's growing crush on you. Although he had mixed feelings about you dating a superhero, he felt as though Peter would do right by you if only you weren't so oblivious.

"M-Mr. Stark!" It was funny to Tony how flustered Peter got after being caught staring at you as you work on some new tech with Harley Keener, one of your friends.

"Parker, you do realize that if you talk to her, you might actually have a shot," your dad stated, hoping that Peter wouldn't chicken out like last time. It was funny, but your happiness was more important than his entertainment.

"I wasn't-"

"Please, I've known about your little crush on her since the moment you met," Your dad sighs as he thinks about what to say next. He wanted to help Peter, but he didn't want to be too involved. "Look, I know I'm her father, and I'm supposed to scare boys off instead of encouraging them, but I figured I'd let you know that there's a ninety-three percent chance that she won't turn you down."

"I- You- she- she likes me?" Peter stutters at his idol, hoping that this wasn't some lie to get him to man up. He wanted you to actually like him before he asks you out. What Peter hadn't counted on was his feelings for you changing by the time he actually did.

They say it's better to have loved and lost Then never to have loved at all That could be a load of shit But I just need to tell you all

"I know things haven't been ideal between us, but you do mean a lot to me," Peter stated. The two of you were visiting your dad's old cabin for the weekend in a desperate attempt to grow closer to one another since you both started college.

"You mean a lot to me too," You sigh as you look out towards the lake. You began thinking about how you and Peter had sat in this exact spot as you comforted each other after your dad's funeral. "You've been there for me in ways nobody ever has."

"I thought that- I don't want to lose what we have," Peter didn't know why he thought that this was a good idea. Neither of you seemed happy together, yet you both cling to your failing relationship like your lives depend on it. "If- If you continue to have me, will you- maybe, marry me?"

"Yes." That was the answer that Peter had dreaded, yet he pulled you into a passionate kiss anyway.

Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay You can think that you're in love When you're really just engaged Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay In the end, it's better for me That's the moral of the story

You saw the way that he looked at her. It left a strange ache in your heart and pain that he'd never looked at you that way. Although another part of you felt relieved, you didn't feel ready to say goodbye. You were just starting to feel as though things were getting better. Like the two of you were getting better.

Michelle Jones wasn't broken like you were. She didn't need time, effort, or comfort. Maybe that was why Peter seemed to like her so much. Perhaps that was why you made up your mind on what you needed to do.

When Peter came home from college for the day, you ended your engagement. You were doing this for him, after all. He deserved to be happy. You'd move into the compound; he could keep the apartment and everything in there.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, not being able to look you in the eyes. He thought that this was what he wanted, but he felt a hollowness in his heart as you said those words.

"I'm sorry too."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #angst #peter parker angst #angsty peter parker imagine #this really made me cry #peter parker x reader angst

140 notes · View notes

ethrenisnotthehero · 3 years

Text

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (final)

If you haven’t read the other parts of this callout, I encourage you to start here. As in both previous posts, the normal tags are not included in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed.

TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Originally, I intended to craft this final part to you, the reader, as an emotional appeal. To be wholly honest, there’s only so much evidence that can be utilized without either forcing Jill to relive unnecessary trauma or exposing deeply intimate or personal parts of her life. Until now, everything I’ve told you and everything I’ve shown you is what was enough to convince me when Jill first reached out to me. If you, the reader, don’t believe the factual information that’s been presented so far, then I don’t think that you will. If you, the reader, believe Jill and her story, then no further evidence is going to magically make her story more true.

However, I don’t have to. Instead, I can let the friends-- the family--that Ren created on his website speak for themselves, and show you with their own testimony just the kind of person he was. Jill wasn’t the only person that Ren hurt. Jill wasn’t even the only person Ren preyed on as a sexual predator. Many people on staff, and many people outside of it, knew Ren and grew to have what they thought was a close relationship with him. People regarded him as someone to look up to, to find comfort in, to aspire after, to lean on; people thought of him as a friend and a hero in his community.

On April 12, 2021, at 9:57 AM Greenwhich Mean Time, the current administrators of Advanced Scribes issued a statement addressing Ren’s actions and his faked death. An additional announcement was made the following day. While the announcements themselves and the replies (including moderator statements) are publicly available, I have saved a print-to-PDF versions on Google for you to browse at your leisure.

I intentionally waited until the initial panic and outrage died out a little to let the most important statements come to light. Included in the PDF are sentiments that I personally thought were the most important sentiments; edits have been made and pages have been deleted, so you can see the current state of the conversations by visiting them directly. You can find the first discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42100#p1454263 and the second discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42107#p1454361.

Before you continue reading, please look over the statements and replies. The words of former staff former friends say more than I can ever hope to about Ren and the kind of reality that he stood for. Additionally, Jill herself has added to the conversation (username Rakuen), so you can read a bit from her perspective by looking into these announcements. After you’ve taken a look, continue below and I will sum up my final thoughts on this predator and his legacy.

Advanced Scribes • Our Statement (PDF)

Advanced Scribes • Change (PDF)

The Act of Grooming, Part 3: Entrapment

One of the reasons that predators get away with their crimes for so long is because they trap their victims. When they gain access to and successfully lure in their prey, they then engage in entrapment behavior to separate victims from other people and build reliance. The reason why kids are so prone to predation is because of how vulnerable they are. Young people just want to belong. They just want to have community, security, and affection. When they can’t get those things in their lives, they seek it out and take it where they can get it even when the situation is obviously bad. Kids can’t be held accountable for being smart because they’re kids. Jill was vulnerable. She wanted belonging and support. She fell into Ren’s lures, and he trapped her. He used his affection as a tool to solicit sexual favors and pictures from her, but never shared his face with her. She was always chasing his love, and all the while he was simultaneously preying on other individuals in the community. For God’s sake, this man had a selfie thread where underage girls would send pictures of themselves publicly on the site for him to look at, and he even intentionally disabled the website’s COPPA features.

Before Jill, there was Buttercup. Buttercup was also an admin, and she was also 13 when she met Ren. While Ren was a minor during he and Buttercup’s relationship, his behavior with her was just as predatory and Buttercup attempted to warn Jill via PM before she ended her relationship with him.

The picture he sent Buttercup wasn’t even him.

The entire time that Ren was convincing Jill that Buttercup was evil, and jealous, and a spiteful, hateful person, he was manipulating her the same way he was manipulating Jill. Ren is a predator who knows what he’s doing; he always has. He draws in his victims and makes everyone hate them so that he’s the only person they have. He makes them so desperate for his approval that they let him screw them over time and time again, and for what? Just to see his face. Think about what you read. He didn’t just do this to Jill and Buttercup. He did this to every person he cheated with or got close enough to get a grip on. Even if he didn’t sexually exploit someone, he emotionally did. An entire community of people suffered through this over and over and over again. Read the statements again. If you only read the live version, read the PDF.

I also want you to bear in mind that everyone on staff was equally a victim as they were an enabler. It doesn’t erase their responsibility, but their roles in this story or more nuanced than “moderator bad, burn the witch!” Some of Ren’s supporters were as young or younger than Jill when they met him. The two people most notorious for standing at his side right now were both “rewarded” with a relationship with him in the fallout of his faked death.

At some point, this man looked at his behavior and not only decided that he didn’t need to take responsibility, but that his victims daring to try and claim some kind of ownership over their own story was a personal affront to him.

Ren is a monster of his own creation. He chose to be that monster again, and again, and again.

What makes his enablers equally to blame is when they became adults and made a conscious choice to ignore what was happening, which brings us to the next topic.

Finally... How Old Was Jill?

Despite everything I’ve said and shared so far, I still get this question in my inbox.

How old was Jill? Did she lie about her age? Is she free of guilt because she was a kid? Did he know how old she was? Was she legal in her country?

I gave you all everything I had. There were some things I just couldn’t confirm because there was no proof either way. However, all of that changed when the announcements were released. I now know exactly how old Jill was when they began dating, exactly how old she was when people knew about their relationship, and even that Ren was public with all of this information. I also know that staff knew everything, and chose to do nothing.

As you can see in the screenshots above of Buttercup’s message, it was sent on Jun 17, 2015. At that time, Jill was 14 years old. By Buttercup’s estimation, they had been dating for around a few months, which is how I was able to discern the previous exact age of 14 years old at the time they began dating.

However, Ren himself refutes that fact in a Valentine’s post for Jill. As pointed out in the “Our Statement” thread, the post that user amnesia. references includes very sexual and disgustingly graphic descriptions of Ren’s activity with her. It also says this:

As per the timestamp of this particular post (as seen below), Jill was 16 at the time. Ren, a man claiming to be twenty-five years old at the time, was proud to admit that he had been with Jill since she was 13.

You can view the full PDF of this post to see what else he said here, but please be warned that his descriptions are NSFW and absolutely disgusting.

Warm Fuzzies Post (PDF)

No adult should talk about a kid like that. In the statements, several staff members admit that they knew that the two were dating when she was 16, and that it grossed them out. But none of them did anything. To amnesia.’s credit, they claim they tried to pursue legal action but found no viable routes.

From the discussions and statements, we can discern five things:

1. Jill was 13 when she started dating Ren. 2. She did not lie about her age. 3. Ren did not lie about her age. 4. Ren knew how old she was. 5. Staff knew how old she was.

Jill’s feelings and her opinions on staff and their behavior are separate from my own. She does not share my beliefs here, and I need to make it very clear that what I’m saying next is entirely my own opinion.

To everyone who was staff at that time: shame on you. It’s one thing to be a victim yourself and to not understand how or when to stand up for what’s right, especially when you’re young; it’s another to become an adult and to have let something like this permeate your legacy and your community for all this time. From what I understand, none of you are completely innocent in this. Ren wasn’t secret, he was loud and proud and he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Everyone who was an adult then and is an adult now shares some responsibility for that. Those of you who mean your apologies, thank you, but those of you who are using this event as a stepping stone to make that website into your own personal playground know who you are. Stop. There’s an entire generation of kids between AS and CS who have lost years of their childhoods to this shit and the only right thing at this point would be to turn the site over to the police so that Ren can answer for his crimes the right way.

To everyone else: protect the people around you. People like Ren don’t think about how other people think or feel. They don’t care who gets hurt or who they trample under their feet. Look around at your community, and ask yourself if those who interact with you know that you are safe. Inevitably, someone is going to get hurt. Are you the kind of person that they can come to when it happens, or are you the kind of person who will turn your head away?

Be the person that everyone knows they can come to, because, eventually, someone’s going to need you.

#ethren is not the hero #ethren whitecross #ethren #chicken smoothie #chickensmoothie #harry potter #hphm #hphl #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts legacy #aaron #aaron strider #strider #advanced scribes #advanced-scribes #skyren #captured hearts #aven #lucian

82 notes · View notes

cafeinthemoon · 3 years

Text

Tobirama with s/o who’s secretly developing a new (and dangerous) jutsu 🌊

So this is the continuation of the anon request and Hashirama’s part was already posted (you can read it here). I posted it first because when I finished writing it I thought it was too long and it would be better if it remained as a separated post. But now we have the Second Grandpa dealing with his own s/o who’s developing a new and potentially dangerous jutsu. I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Naruto | Tobirama Senju

Symbols: 💗 | ◽ | ▶▶

Warning: longass post ahead

Having his own business to mind, of course Tobirama wouldn’t interfere in your activities unless he has a good reason for that

He knows you prefer to train by the evening/night to avoid the hot weather and intromissions, so that he never does an interrogatory or try to keep you at home, things he would normally do in case you’re going on a dangerous mission or if he thinks you are hiding something from him

And that’s why you know that you couldn’t keep your secret for much longer when he starts doing this

“Are you sure you are carrying everything you need with you? Have you enough medicine in case you get hurt? Are you taking breaks during a session and another?”

It’s becoming harder to dismiss his suspicions worries as the days pass

Truth is that he has been noticing some changes in your mood

You’ve been more tired, more serious and more anxious these days, as if you had a problem in mind that you couldn’t just keep aside until you get it fixed

Besides, this is exactly your behavior when you are trying to overcome a specific difficulty during your training… or when you’re trying to develop a new technique

Tobirama knows that because he recognizes these traits in himself, and you’re always there to keep them under control, otherwise he would spend days without proper rest and meals, as well as sleepless nights. So it’s only natural that he does the same towards you

However he doesn’t take any attitude based on suspicions, so he waits until he gets some proof that you’re getting into danger

When you get home and the first thing he sees is the bruise you got on your shoulder, he recognizes it as the proof he’s been looking for

He doesn’t say a word about it, but you see it in his eyes: he’s worried and is preparing to do something about it. Right now he’s just trying to be fair by giving you time to speak for yourself, but you know, he’s going to act

Still, you’re determined to keep going: the jutsu is almost finished, you can’t just give up on it now

You keep thinking like this even during that night, when the physical damage is increased by the chakra’s consumption: at first you could hide some of the scratches and bruises you got, but now this is impossible

There’s just some little details to fix, and then the jutsu is complete

You are working on this right now, bruised, exhausted, but full of hope. Your hard work is finally going to pay off…

But you never see the last second

You sense something cutting the air close to you. You look at the object’s direction and find a kunai. But not just any kunai: this one has a seal wrapped around it. A seal you know well

Before you do anything, the environment around you suddenly changes and now you find yourself in a place away from the one where you were performing the technique

And you’re not alone: Tobirama is there holding you in his arms

You are almost running out of chakra, but the exhaustion doesn’t stop you to understand what happened: he followed you, found out what you’ve been up to and used his Hiraishin to stop you

After stopping you in time, he lets you there, goes catch the kunai and comes back to you in a flash

Right now, you’re numb: you’re unable to feel anger, fear, desperation or frustration. You can’t even think of arguing

You just let him take you back home using his jutsu

You don’t know what happened then. You have a vague memory of being carried to your bed and then passing out

When you wake up, it’s morning. You look around and find Tobirama looking through the window. He immediately turns to you when you try to sit on the bed

You’re still weak. You don’t want you, but you are forced to accept his help

He gives you an explanation you didn’t ask for

“You have lost almost all of your chakra. I used my kinjutsu to heal you as a first aid, and thanks to it you have a chance to recover. Despite that, you are not leaving this bed for some time”

Now you’re capable of some reaction, and your reaction is to ignore what he just said and try to stand up

Of course you fail and he catches you before you reach the floor. You try to dismiss him, saying you’re just going to get some water

“I can get it for you. Go back to bed”

“STOP THAT”

He falls silent and you fall back to your spot, because the effort you put into that scream was too much

You two stare at each other, and this time you’re the first to speak

“Why did you do that?”

Tobirama tries to avoid the question

“Y/n, we are not having this conversation. Not in your conditions”

“Yes, we are!”, you don’t scream, but just because you can’t and not because you don’t want to

You continue to speak between one sigh and another

“Do you have any idea of how hard I’ve been working to complete that technique? How many time and effort I’ve spent on it? How many nights I’ve needed to dedicate to it? I was almost finishing it! And you just screwed up everything in the last moment! That’s unforgivable!”

Since you chose to have this discussion, he’s now engaged on taking it to the end

“Unforgivable is to let you kill yourself and do nothing about it. What you call screwing up everything I call saving your life. Show some gratitude at least”

“How could I show gratitude when you interrupted my work?! Would you do it if I interrupted yours? Or are you going to try and convince me that your work is not that important?”

As the creator of countless techniques, that’s a sensitive spot for him and you know that

But this attempt to make him put himself in your shoes only gets him irritated

“A technique is not as important as someone’s life, y/n. You are an experienced ninja. You should know that!”

“Good! Now go and tell this to the ones on which you used your Edo Tensei!”

Tobirama stands up and for a second you see a strange bright in his red eyes. You never saw that before, but once you do it you know you’ve push it too far. You even think he’s going to kill you right now

But what he does is almost as serious as it, or so you think

“And for what reason you think I declared it a forbidden technique?! Think of it and you will see that it’s the same with the present case! It’s true that I completed Edo Tensei, but if I could undo this, I would. However in your case we still have a chance, so you are not going to finish this jutsu. I will seal it as a kinjutsu!”

Now you can’t believe you ears. He wants to seal your jutsu, for which you’ve worked so hard?! Who he thinks he is?!

“Tobirama! I created that jutsu! It is my jutsu, not yours! I don’t need to justify myself because of it if you won’t hear me, so once I get out of this bed it will be completed, whether you like it or not!”

Now his tone changed

“Y/n, you know what will happen if you insist on this”

But now you don’t give a damn

“I know what will happen if I stay here and let you take over everything. Right now I regret giving you permission to mark me with your seal. If I knew things would get to this point, I would never agree with such absurd”

You see the change in his expression and body language. However, it’s too late for him. Now you made up your mind and you’re not willing to change your decision

“If I can’t leave this bed for now, I will stay until I’m fully recovered. But once I get better, I’m leaving”

During your treatment (that extends for the next days), you barely talk. Tobirama refuses to say anything that slightly sounds as an apology, and so do you. You just talk when it’s necessary, like when you need a favor from him or when he asks if you’re feeling better

You do your best to get well soon and to be able to walk without help. The sooner you get better, the sooner you will leave. Tobirama notices your effort but keeps quiet about it. If you want to leave after the recovering time, then you will leave. He won’t stop you

One day, he enters the room and finds you on your feet, looking through the window

He closes the door without making a sound. He tries to stay composed, but it’s impossible to hide the nervousness in his eyes: you are leaving him today, and since you are as stubborn as him, there’s nothing he can do

When you turn your back on the window, you see he didn’t come with empty hands: he’s holding some scrolls that he puts beside the things you started to pack

You don’t need an explanation: you recognize the scrolls of your jutsu

You raise an eyebrow

“I thought you said you were going to seal my jutsu”

He doesn’t seem bothered by your tone

“I brought it here not only to give it back to you, but to propose an agreement”

An agreement, uh? You should have expected something like this. It is so like him

“I’m listening”

Tobirama explains that he has been studying your notes and thanks to it he came to understand the structure and nature of the technique. This is how he found the failure that resulted in the abnormal chakra consumption that almost killed you

His idea is basically this: he would help you to fix this weak point since you will continue to work on the jutsu. If it works, everything’s fine, otherwise the jutsu will be sealed

You are determined to have your technique back, so you accept the offer. However you state that it won’t make you stay. He agrees

You two start working as soon as you can

At first, your stubbornness and resentment get in your way, and it seems it’s not going to work. You’re still mad about the way he interrupted you before and can’t help thinking he’s doing the same now, and he thinks you’re being childish instead of focusing on what’s supposed to be the most important, the jutsu

You spend a long time arguing with each other over minimal stuff. Many times, you think of giving up and restarting everything without his help

But your pride doesn’t let you do that, and you keep trying

As the days pass, however, Tobirama observes your determination and his criticism diminishes. Apparently he starts to understand how this is important to you

You, on the other hand, see that his will to help you is not an excuse to make you give up as you first thought. Besides, you start to remember of his dedication when he was taking care of you even though knowing you were determined to leave him

It’s when things start to work

Now you both are willing to talk and to listen to each other, as well as to agree with each other. And when things don’t happen as expected, you don’t blame each other; instead, you try to find a solution together

And then there’s this time when you find yourselves stopping the work and talking as you haven’t done in a long time

You end up saying that when Tobirama stopped you from completing the jutsu, the thing that hurt you most was not the interruption, but he fact that he never asked you your reasons to create such technique, or why you were working alone on it

To you, being heard, understood was the least you expected from the person you love, and not having this was both painful and frustrating

Tobirama, on his turn, admits that this argument was similar to the ones you’ve had before because the source of the conflict was the same as in their case: the lack of clear communication

As much as he didn’t listen when you tried to speak and didn’t make an effort to understand your side, you ignored the fact that taking action towards what he sees as a problem is his way to show that he cares about you

Once you two make things clear, all the tension of the previous days slowly start to disappear. You don’t say proper apologies, and you don’t even need to: speaking your minds is your way to do it

He doesn’t ask if you’re still determined in leaving, neither you confirm your decision for now, but you have time to talk about it when you go back to the house

Well, you don’t exactly talk

You just unpack your things and never say a word about it again

#naruto requests #naruto scenarios #tobirama #tobirama x you #tobirama senju #tobirama headcanons #tobirama x reader #founders trio

177 notes · View notes

aomine-ryo · 3 years

Note

could I req a scenario where it’s ur first time w aomine pls!! xx

Sure!! I hope you like this xx

Scenario: Your first time with Aomine (nsfw)

It had been about a month since you and Aomine had begun dating and things were going rather smoothly. The two of you had been good friends before you started dating so you were able to skip the awkward stage most new relationships struggle with; your conversations weren’t any different now that you were dating, it’s just that there was a lot more touching and physical affection involved. It was still kind of weird getting used to having Aomine wrap his arms around you spontaneously or plant a kiss on your lips out of the blue, but it was always a welcome surprise.

The two of you never really got further than kisses and make out sessions though, however as time went on, it was becoming increasingly obvious that both of you wanted more.

An opportunity finally presented itself when Aomine was home alone one day and called you to come over. You had been texting each other back and forth prior to it and the conversation kept taking very suggestive turns until your boyfriend seemingly got frustrated by the lack of your touch.

When you knocked on Aomine’s front door, you were greeted by the usual, “Hey babe,” and peck on the lips before he welcomed you in.

His bedroom was in its usual state: a mess. With clothes sprawled out on the floor and a variety of magazines ranging from sports-related to gravure, scattered across his desk, his room was just as one would expect it to be.

“Er, sorry about the mess,” he said out of courtesy, though he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed about it

“When is it not a mess?” You said, sarcasm laced in your tone.

“Momoi usually comes over and ends up cleaning. I guess it’s clean then,” he shrugged as he plopped onto his bed with his back resting against the headboard.

You were about to take a seat at the chair by his desk, but Aomine gave you a confused look that made you stop and stare back with an equally confused glare, “What?”

“Why are you sitting there?” he asked as if you did something criminally wrong.

“Is there something wrong with this chair?” you questioned, not putting it past him to have a broken chair in his room.

“No, but come sit with me,” he said, patting down the empty space next to him on the bed.

Sighing and shaking your head at his clinginess, you moved over and climbed onto the bed, leaning against the headboard as your shoulders touched. “Happy now?” you asked sarcastically, your head turning to him with a soft smile on your face.

“Overjoyed,” Aomine returned your sarcasm. “So overjoyed in fact, that I might just kiss you out of sheer joy,” he grinned.

“Well I hope you don’t because I’m saving my first kiss till marriage,” you said, making him chuckle.

“Seems like you’ve already broken that rule so you shouldn’t mind this too much,” he said, playing along before leaning in close. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you, his hand slowly making its way to your waist, which he pulled closer to himself. As your tongues danced with each other’s, Aomine slowly rolled over so that he was laying on top of you, not losing contact with your lips for even a moment.

Aomine’s hips eventually began to move against you as his mouth slowly made its way down to your neck. Your skin was so soft and tasted so sweet that Aomine couldn’t resist nibbling on your neck from time to time, gaining soft groans from you as he continued to leave marks behind. The navy haired boy wanted more though. He wanted to leave marks all over your body. So as he fiddled with the hem of your shirt, he finally stopped his movements and looked at you underneath him with a devious look in his eyes. “Hey, why don’t we go all the way today?” he suggested, voice low and raspy after having kissed you for so long.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of those words. “Are you sure? Do you have a condom?”

He reached over to his bedside drawer and picked out a small blue square shaped packet. “Yep, right here,” he said, waving it around.

“Then sure, why not,” you smiled dorkily.

With a wide smile on his face, Aomine reconnected his lips with yours, lingering on them for a while before making his way down your neck again, however he soon pulled your shirt off, gawking at your chest for a bit before he continued to work on leaving more marks along your torso. He finally reached the waistband of your pants when he looked back up at you again.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked, unable to believe that it was actually going to happen, as he became giddy with excitement that was evident with the sparkle in his dark eyes.

Your hand met his cheek, softly caressing it as you nodded lightly, “Yes, let’s do it,” you smiled.

It was your first time with Aomine and you weren’t sure what to expect. As he pulled his shirt off soon after taking off your pants, you couldn’t help but get more excited upon the sight of his toned upper body, which undoubtedly had you holding back drool as he just looked so hot. Aomine seemed to know his way around though, effortlessly pulling clothes off and tossing them to the side until you were both completely naked.

You had to admit, a naked Aomine was definitely a sight to see. Every single part had you swooning over him, and his length was certainly impressive. Aomine seemed to be equally taken aback by your body too though. No matter how many gravure magazines he went through, seeing the real deal right in front of him never failed to leave his mouth hanging.

He quickly snapped out of it though and he began to leave kisses on your inner thigh. As he did so, your fingers began running through his hair absentmindedly, however they quickly gripped onto his short strands when he suddenly licked between your thighs. Flinching slightly at the sudden tug on his hair, he soon began to smirk as his tongue began to lick over, slowly making its way inside you as well. Hearing your gasps and heavy breathing only encouraged him to do it more, but he was also aching to feel you wrapped around him.

Aomine reluctantly pulled away from your body and tore open the plastic packet he’d taken out earlier. After rolling it onto his length, he lined himself between your thighs and looked at you eagerly underneath him.

Your cheeks were still flushed red from his tongue and Aomine seemed to be proud at the sight of it. You still managed to give him a small nod as a way of telling him to continue. So Aomine slowly pushed himself into you, making you flinch from the slight pain you felt of being stretched open. Aomine let out a deep long groan as his length was completely wrapped by your insides. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, feeling relieved that he was finally able to do this after he’d been aching for it for a while.

He paused for a moment to let you adjust as he leaned down to kiss you again. “Daiki,” you gasped when he pulled away, “Please move.”

Without hesitation, he did as you asked, slowly beginning to move in and out of you and gaining soft moans from you as he did. “Is this okay?” he asked you after a few moments, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t hurting you. He had a tendency to be quite rough in bed, so he was very cautious since it was only his first time with you.

You nodded, as pain soon subsided and was taken over by pleasure. “F-Faster,” you gasped.

Aomine slowly picked up his pace, though he was still holding back and you could feel it. It was clearly out of concern for you, but little did he know that you too liked it rough.

“Daiki, please go faster,” you begged, your hands gripping onto the bedsheets in desperation as your hips tried to move too in attempt to go faster yourself.

“Are you sure?” Aomine asked, voice soft as he looked at your small squirming body underneath him.

Your eyes stared straight into his with confidence, “I want you to fucking wreck me,” you said, the sound of those words along with the desperate look you gave him sending a wave of excitement throughout Aomine’s body as he became even more turned on.

“Well then, don’t complain when you can’t walk tomorrow,” he smirked before lifting your legs so they were over his shoulders before thrusting into you faster than you could imagine. He somehow managed to go deeper with every thrust, causing the volume of your moans to gradually increase as he went on. Before you knew it, you were screaming so loud that Aomine was sure even the people living three blocks away from him could hear. The navy haired boy pushed his lips against yours to engage you in a sloppy kiss that shut you up. As much as he loved the sound of you screaming for him, he loved feeling you struggle to kiss him back just as much.

After a minute or so of this, he finally pulled away from your lips but also pulled out completely, making you whine at the loss of contact.

Aomine flipped you over so that you were on all fours, with your ass facing him. He slipped inside you once more, making you moan in pleasure of being filled again. He leaned over to your ear and whispered, “I hope you’re still okay, because I’m not gonna go easy on you now.”

You felt shivers run down your spine as a smile spread across your face. “Do your worst,” you challenged, eager to see what Aomine was truly like in bed.

The navy haired boy straightened his back and gripped your hips tightly. Before you knew it, he was slamming into you faster and harder than before, hitting your spot with every thrust. You were once again screaming helplessly in pleasure, making Aomine inch closer and closer to his climax as his movements became sloppier and he began to let out groans of satisfaction.

“D-Daiki, I’m close,” you said breathlessly in between screams and moans.

You felt Aomine’s grip on your hips get tighter. “God you feel so good, Y/N,” he groaned, “I’m close too.”

With a loud moan of his name, you finally reached your high, tightening yourself around Aomine who was finding it increasingly difficult to hold himself together. Soon after you did, he too reached his climax and finally let himself go, feeling nothing but euphoria as he collapsed into his mattress, skin glistening with sweat.

“I didn’t know you liked it that rough, Y/N,” he smirked as the two of you laid in bed, catching your breaths.

“Well, I guess you know now,” you smiled, flustered.

A grin spread across Aomine’s reddened face. He could definitely get used to having more of this.

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket x reader #aomine daiki #aomine daiki x reader #knb #generation of miracles

218 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers.

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island.

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos @chaoticdeobi @moondustaeil @juyeonzz @atbzkingdom @2hyunjae @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz @heartyyjeno @bahnmi07 @sadlandia @itsquxxn

-----------

Eight years, gone just like that.

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface.

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be?

“Y/N.”

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?”

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him.

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face.

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?”

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.”

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!”

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.”

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind.

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!”

--------------

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is.

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.”

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--”

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.”

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!”

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist.

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.”

“Hm, sure.”

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat.

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?”

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side.

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole.

“We’re similar to Canada that way.”

“Do you miss it here?”

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.”

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.”

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement.

“Ouch! What? What is it?”

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.”

“But--”

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought.

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face.

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.”

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.”

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.”

“Told you so.”

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is.

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.”

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...”

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart.

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.”

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way.

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.”

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.”

“No problem.”

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters.

“Hey Y/N.”

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?”

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.”

“Huh, I tried.”

---------------------------

“So, Kevin huh?”

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister.

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air.

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.”

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you."

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?”

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.”

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..”

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?”

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?”

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.”

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day.

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring.

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers.

“There’s more?!”

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.”

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves.

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests.

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness.

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him.

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention.

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?"

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?"

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg.

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.”

“You’re so annoying.”

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me.

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you come?”

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest.

“Good question.”

Another pause.

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.”

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything.

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.”

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.”

“Oh.”

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take.

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable.

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour.

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same.

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another.

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes.

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach.

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat.

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe.

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether.

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected.

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot.

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes.

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror.

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice.

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.”

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.”

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.”

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--”

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore.

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.”

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…”

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.”

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.”

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest.

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.”

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.”

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.”

Happy.

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time.

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.”

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.”

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.”

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.”

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.”

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart.

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans.

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!”

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place.

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all.

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?”

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up.

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.”

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.”

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face.

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall.

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.”

“How was catching up with family?”

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--”

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?”

“Dork.”

“You’re friends with this dork.”

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat.

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.”

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?”

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.”

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me.

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?”

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain.

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go.

“What are you thinking about?”

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry.

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.”

He cocks his head, “sad?”

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.”

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.”

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.”

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response.

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?”

“Yup,” he grins, “really.”

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.”

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.”

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end.

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.”

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his.

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal.

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest.

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion.

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.”

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip.

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face.

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?”

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways.

“I--”

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!”

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!”

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament.

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet.

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air.

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.”

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.”

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap.

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank.

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing.

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break.

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.”

I nod mutely.

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.”

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.”

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck.

He tugs. I follow.

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss.

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his.

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck.

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does.

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall.

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me.

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration.

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out:

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate.

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding.

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment.

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath.

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish.

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?"

“I’m really glad you came.”

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much.

“Me too.”

----

264 notes · View notes

obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts · 3 years

Text

Brothers with Mc Who Has PGAD (Pt 1 of ?)

This is going to be different then my other headcanons. I tried doing them like usual, but it didn't sit well with me. This is only like the first two chapters?? Idk how to explain it. It's hard to show the issues with PGAD in a relationship without just rehashing my chronic pain ask. I might be a bit rusty because I'm playing off and on right now, so please forgive if anyone is OOC.

Also, I want to state that this is NOT a representation of everyone who has PGAD. I couldn't possibly fit all the symptoms, feelings, and causes in here without contradicting myself. There are many causes in the female sex though (Deposits built on the clitoris, slipped disc, hormonal imbalances, pregnancy, misfiring signals from the brain/nerve, ext). I have a fucked up nerve somewhere along the line. I'm a rare case of a rare disorder where I was born with it and haven't experienced a day without PGAD. These are only how I expect someone with my exact symptoms would react, and how the brothers would react to that. Also! If you have PGAD, and don't know ways to help out, I'll give you some tips. Just hmu baby 💞.

Warning! Sensitive Content!

Coming to the Devildom is just as you'd expect it to be, it's literal hell.

You're stressed, like, majorly so. You don't have your medications on you, you've been seperated from your phone, and these demons are telling you you'll have to stay in their realm for a year, doctor's visits be damned.

The emotional connection between your pain and your reactions is rising by the second. It's clear on your face, and most probably by the way you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, attempting to draw your attention away from the growing burning sensation.

You don't feel comfortable being set up in a strange house with seven strange demons. They're rowdy and rude and it just sets you on edge to the point that you're very near jumping everytime one of them speaks to you.

They don't speak to you often, thankfully. If you refuse to engage with them, they're fine with keeping their distance. Sometimes you'll hear something from Mammon, your appointed guide, and the blonde seems to enjoy commenting on what books you're reading, but that's about it.

But then you're expected to go to school, five days a week, whilst fulfilling a stupid task list everyday, and all that pressure really weighs on you before it's even begun.

You can't sit down for eight hours, let alone sit on a hard surface in such a toxic that is highschool without being put out of commission for a few days. This will really mess with their whole plan, and you doubt you'll get cut any slack if you don't actually let at least one of the council members in on your condition.

It shouldn't have to be that way. You shouldn't have to justify your state of wellbeing to people you've barely known for two days, but the only way out of here is by playing the game, so you target the eldest brother.

You explain to Lucifer your condition. It's very professional, straight-forward, and he doesn't ask many questions besides the obvious.

The two of you eventually come to a pretty decent arrangement. On the days when you're in too much pain to handle things, you can stay home, and do whatever you can to catch up. It's not exactly the best option, considering you have different teachers online and in person, but it works for the most part.

He does require you to do some studying with the third eldest though. Leviathan, you learn, is a shut-in. Most his schooling is online, and since you're situation tends to make you miss many days of school, Lucifer wants him to help you out.

The two of you don't exactly get along at first. Leviathan is the type to work alone, and he's not the best at explaining. So during the first two days, you kinda flounder from paper to paper, task to task. It's just more stress on your plate. You snap at him when he gets impatient with you, and he'll return the gesture with some mumbled insults.

Eventually the two of you get to a state where you can at least work together without arguing over something small, but he's still a little annoying to you.

Satan kinda steps up here too. He knows Levi isn't really the best at explaining things that aren't dipped in a convoluted storyline, so he tries to help out when he sees you in the library, often searching for information for your assignments.

And Satan is incredibly patient. Even without knowing of your condition, and that's kinda the support you need. Learning with PGAD is hard, because any sort of frustration just puts you in pain. He doesn't get offended if you snap, or if you're a bit stubborn because of this. Something about him recognizes that desperation in your eyes; the want to do things, but he just knows there's something holding you back. He's not sure what, and he doesn't ask out of respect for whatever you must be dealing with (Which is such a breath of fresh air).

Mammon, on the other hand, isn't as graceful in his approach. He doesn't really pick up on your vibes and that proves to be a bit unfortunate when you're having a hard time translating your feelings.

He takes most things you say a little too personal, despite also having a tendency to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

You two get on each other's nerves pretty equally. The stress that results makes being in his presence a bit difficult.

But no one makes your life worse then Asmodeus.

Sure, he's sweet. He probably picks up on the fact that you take baths as often as he does and gives you some fancy soaps/stuffs, but he's a little too touchy.

And a bit too sexual.

You try to distance yourself from him, and it has mixed results depending on how persistent Asmodeus is feeling that day.

The only one who you don't interact with much is Beel, and that's kind of a blessing in disguise. You're hardly a few days into your residency in the Devildom and you're already struggling to keep up with school and the brothers (as well as the voice coming from the attic...but you try to push that and Lucifer's threats to the back of your mind.)

Things only get worse when you make your pact with Mammon. In fact, the only good thing that really comes out of it is that you are able to help out Leviathan. Everything else feels like a shitstorm.

There was the expected teasing. The "Mammon was dumb enough to get played by a human" bit that really got old after the first time and a few offers to make some more pacts from lesser demons at school (which you always turned down). All the attention made your day stressful as fuck. You could hardly think without feeling strongly in some sort of way, and having a stabbing pain zeroing in on your pelvis.

And to your suprise, he can totally feel it.

(Personally I like to believe pacts go a bit deeper then the 'oh I can make you do things'. I feel it should be considered more, given how much power is given to them, and how often it's stated that the guys don't just give them out. If they were just about control, I have no doubt Mammon would have probably used it in a moment of desperation. In fact, it's kinda out of character that he hasn't at least made the mistake ONCE, so I headcanons there is a emotional/physical bond that comes with it.)

It's not completely there. He doesn't get all the pain and strife you do, but there's enough for him to kinda put the pieces together. He's not delicate in approaching you about it, however he thankfully does pull you aside after dinner, saving you the embarrassment of talking about genitals at the dinner table.

You explain to him what exactly PGAD is. That your body is feeling a sexual desire, but you mind isn't. So, instead of being pleasurable, it's painful.

He's not exactly sure what you're saying, but he becomes a lot more protective over you from now on.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me mammon #obey me x reader #obey me x mc

70 notes · View notes

chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Longing

Chapter 1

Description: Chris Evans becomes obsessed with you when he realises he can't have you. Eager to be with you in some form or the other, he starts writing fanfiction, where both of you are passionately in love with each other. But what happens when his imagination starts to merge with his reality in his subconsciousness?

Warnings: This entire mini-series will contain smut, bad language and angst. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This first chapter is inspired by the GIF below from @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 's ShamelessHoesForChris writing challenge. Click here to know more

A/N: I do not know Chris Evans personally. This fic is a work of imagination and should only be used as such. It doesn't comment on Chris or anybody else personally. It is also not meant to destroy his reputation or paint him in a bad light. I admire the guy and he really seems like a genuinely nice person. Again, I repeat, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO TREAT IT AS SUCH!

A/N 2: I did search quite a lot on the internet and didn't come across a fic like this. Which makes me nervous and also kind of excited that I get to do something unique? Please please give me your criticism and feedback on this! Would love to hear your thoughts.

A/N 3: I have used a few big words throughout the series because this fic is from Chris' POV and we all know that he's a bit of a wordsmith 😅 I had never even heard these words before in my life. So please let me know if I have used them in an incorrect manner.

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

The best thing about shooting Defending Jacob? Chris got to stay in his house in Boston. The worst part about working on the set? He was currently stuck in a room engulfed in hot, angry flames of fire. The fire had abruptly started due to a short circuit and spread across the set in the blink of an eye. Coughing, Chris doubled down on the floor, his breathing becoming more laboured with each second.

The smoke stung his eyes as he looked around for a fire extinguisher. He tried calling for help, but only small grunts managed to escape his lips. Just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he heard a voice. Your voice.

"Is anyone here?" you called out, your voice faint in his ears. "Hello?"

Chris tried to shout again, but only sank further towards the floor.

Luckily, you opened the door of his room and found his almost crumpled body on the ground. Using the fire extinguisher, you managed to douse as many flames as you could, while also covering Chris with a thick blanket. As the room was still filled with smoke, you pressed a wet towel on his face, asking him to breathe through his nose.

Slowly, you managed to drag him out of the room and into the corridor, the fire reduced to embers in most places thanks to your fire extinguisher. Chris being a heavy man, you tried your best to support his weight as much as you could, your body almost stooping to form a right angle.

Just as you thought you might be in the clear, you heard a crack from above. Looking up, you realised that the ceiling was about to cave in and so, on impulse, you pushed Chris out of the way, as portions of the false ceiling fell on you, knocking you unconscious.

Chris, in his state, vaguely realised what happened, before he lost his balance and fell to the ground a few feet away from you, his left arm stretched towards your limp body, as if reaching out.

Sirens of the firetruck and the ambulance filled the heavy air. A deep groan escaped his lips as he attempted to crawl towards you, a failed effort. Where did it all go so wrong? he thought. I was supposed to be the one to save you angel! You should be falling in love with me!! And break-up with your good for nothing fiancé!

Overwhelmed with emotions, Chris started drifting off to sleep, your name leaving his lips in the form of a desperate whisper.

🔥

8 MONTHS AGO

Chris met you for the first time at the table read for Defending Jacob. You didn't strike him as anyone special. Being the Junior Assistant Scriptwriter for the series, you were just in the room as a formality. It was your job to jot down the minutes of the meeting, and have the parts of the script marked which were supposed to be changed slightly.

You managed to stay invisible for more such meetings. An introvert by nature, you kept to yourself even when the shooting started.

It was in the Week 4 of the shooting when Chris actually started to notice you. He realised you were always absent from his house parties, never stayed around on the set for after-work shenanigans and, you never hung out with any of your crew-mates for a drink.

What really drove his attention towards you were your random acts of kindness. He once saw you feeding a homeless man in the alley behind the set. Unknown to you, it was where Chris often hid from his cast and crew to smoke.

Then there was the bit with setting up of a mobile blood donation camp on the set, which was completely your idea. He had also seen you distribute fliers for animal adoption centres and NGOs who fought for climate preservation.

You always made sure everyone on the set ate before you did, and the ones who couldn't due to work, you were sure to help them and share their load so they could have lunch.

But one particular incident made him see that you were no ordinary woman.

It was a particularly tough day on the set. They were shooting the 35-second sex scene between him and Michelle. While these scenes looked easy on the screen, they always made Chris feel uneasy about himself. "What if my body is not upto the mark?" , "I don't want to hurt Michelle in any way" , "God I hope I don't touch her inappropriately by mistake" and more such troubling thoughts clawed at his mind. After the scene finally ended, he felt the lustful eyes of the crew feasting on him, admiring his body on display.

He hurried towards his van, avoiding to look at anyone, until his eyes met yours for a total of 5 seconds. He expected to see the same smirk to be reflected in your eyes as everyone else's. Instead, he saw a completely different emotion. He saw sadness, sympathy, and most importantly, recognition of his discomfort etched on your face.

After that, Chris started to keep a close eye on you. You always wore comfortable clothes, with loads of pockets. Yet somehow, they always fit you well. He also noticed that you always got your own lunch, refusing to eat the food available on the set.

A few days after filming the sex scene, he decided to try to speak with you. Palms sweaty, he headed towards you and gently said your name.

"Hi," he said, and stopped.

"Hello Mr Evans," you greeted him back, a little surprised that he knew your name.

He continued to look at you, bright cerulean eyes bearing into yours, apparently lost. You blinked twice, unfazed, and a little uncomfortable, "Can I help you sir?"

Chris shook his head slightly. He was so used to women fawning all over him, that your utter lack of excitement on seeing him deterred him a bit.

He cleared his throat, a little flustered, *Ahem yeah… I wanted to ask… something… karaoke!" he managed to mumble, "It's karaoke night at my house. Tomorrow. Will you come? At night?"

"Umm… No Mr Evans. I am sorry I will not be able to make it," you politely declined while taking a small step back.

"Oh. Uhh… well we can have it any other night if you want," he cleared his throat again, sweat starting to gather on his forehead as he noticed your movement, "You never visit any of my house-parties."

You smiled a bit, "I like to go home early. I want to spend as much time as I can with my fiancé and my cat."

Chris raised his eyebrows at that revelation, "Fiancé? I… I don't see a ring."

"That's because there isn't one," your smile widened as you pulled the chain around your neck and revealed a locket. It was an intricately carved sunflower locket, with small, delicate curls nestled inside the petals.

Chris glanced at it with disdain. It looked hand-made, cheap, "Is that… is it made from clay?"

"Yes Mr Evans," you beamed at the locket, admiring it with love and pride, "My fiancé is a potter and he made this himself. It took him over 6 hours just to carve all the petals. But he still made it because he knows how much I love sunflowers."

"So he's too poor to give you an appropriate ring?" Chris snapped at you.

Offended, you looked at him in shock and anger as he continued. "You deserve someone who can afford to give you an expensive engagement ring. Not some cheap craft project."

You grit your teeth at his comment, "Unlike some people, I don't look at the price of the gifts, I look at their value. While this," you held the locket in front of his eyes, "is worthless for you, it is priceless for me."

You placed the locket back inside your shirt and walked away. Chris stood rooted at the spot, biting his cheek hollow. He hadn't meant to drive you away. He had just wanted you to see him as a prospective partner.

As he turned towards his trailer, an idea popped into his head.

🔥

Next Friday saw you and your fiancé walk into the bowling alley. The production house had organised a "Bring Your Partner to Work Day" and you both were excited to step out of your routine lives.

A few people on the set recognised your fiancé Aiden from his YouTube channel. Kenneth, an Assistant Set Designer, drooled over him, "Maaahhnnn! I love your pottery videos! They are so calming dude. How do you make them so relaxing?"

The ever shy and soft-spoken Aiden gushed at the compliment, turning a shade of red which you always found adorable. Aiden was almost the same height as you, with a lean figure and a kind, freckled face. Your friends always told you that Aiden's looks were nothing to brag about, but you disagreed. Because for you, this man was the most handsomest, cutest and sexiest person in the world.

And you knew he felt the same way about you. That's why, even after being together for almost 5 years now, you two still looked at each other with heart eyes.

As the party progressed, you made sure to avoid Chris, and so far, you were successful. That was until he softly said your name.

With dread in your stomach, you and Aiden turned around to face the man. Aiden knew of your previous encounter with Chris, and tried to square his shoulders as much as possible, but Chris' towering physique and personality literally made it impossible for Aiden to appear tough.

You gave Chris a curt nod and received a sweet smile in response.

"I believe I owe you an apology," he confessed, "I am sorry. My behavior that day was inexcusable." He paused for reaction, but looking at your hesitant faces, he continued, "It was quite a hectic day on the set and I guess I took it all out on you," he looked towards you, "You know I am capricious by nature. It takes me some time to become gregarious. But," he raised his hands in the air, "I repeat, the way I acted was inexcusable. I am sorry."

He extended his arm towards Aiden, "You are a porter I believe."

"Potter, sir," Aiden corrected while shaking his hand and introducing himself.

You bit your tongue, knowing that Chris was mocking you with his false apology.

He invited Megan to join the conversation, "Megan loves handmade ceramics. Maybe she would be interested in your work."

Introductions were made again, and as the conversation pursued, it arrived at the topic of your marriage.

"Have you guys decided on a date yet?" asked Megan as Chris looked at you.

"We are planning to get married as soon as the shooting ends for DJ," you smiled.

"Oh really? Wow that's… unusual," Megan tried her best to hide her surprise.

"We don't know exactly when will the shooting end," Chris said with a frown on his face.

"That's not an issue Mr Evans. We are actually planning to get married at the courthouse," revealed Aiden.

"You know if money is an issue then we would be more than happy to help you guys out," Chris offered in a sincere tone.

"Oh no no Mr Evans. Money isn't an issue," you clarified, "We have decided to donate the money we had intended to spend on the wedding."

"But thank you so much for the generous offer, we really appreciate it," Aiden added with a sincere smile.

"You know a lot of couples are doing that nowadays. It's a trend I believe," Megan commented, "Where are you going to make the donation?"

"The local orphanage where I grew up. We both love kids and, it just seemed to be the perfect choice," Aiden beamed at you.

You mirrored his expression while Chris scowled. "I think everybody should get the wedding of their dreams, and you" he stated, pointing towards you, "deserve much more than a courthouse wedding. Don't you want to get married in a beautiful church? Walk down the aisle in a gorgeous white gown? And get married to a man who can actually fulfill your wishes and desires?"

Squaring your shoulders, you looked at Chris dead in the eye, "I am marrying the man of my dreams Mr Evans. The wedding ceremony doesn't matter to me. What does matter is the beautiful life we will begin together. Now if you will excuse us," you linked your arm with Aiden's, "we need to leave."

Chris watched you leave as Megan tried to distract him with something else. Tonight did not go the way he had anticipated.

He left the party shortly after you, directly heading for his home. Standing under the cold shower, he tried to reason with himself. He was acting out of character. There was no reason for his behavior. You had made it ample clear that you loved your fiancé and that nobody in the world could sway you.

Then why was he so hell-bent on claiming you as his?

Because she's perfect for you, a voice answered him.

Yeah, but she belongs to someone else, he argued.

So what?, the voice urged, Fight for her. You saw her wimp of a fiancé. You can break him into two pieces without breaking a sweat. She is made for you. Just you, and nobody else.

"I… Just… No," Chris stammered loudly as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice in his mind.

He tried to meditate, but it didn't work. Dodger too, was unable to distract him. Even his books on self-help and mental health were of no use.

As a last resort, he opened his laptop, but his fingers halted at the search bar, the cursor blinking back at him.

He was too tempted to search for you again. The last time he had Googled you, he had been satisfied with the results. You often volunteered with a few NGOs, coordinated multiple donation drives, visited orphanages and taught underprivileged children. His heart had melted at a particular photograph- you were holding an 8-month-old girl in your arms, while looking over a painting drawn by a 4-year-old boy as the child looked up at you with a toothy smile.

It reminded him of everything he wanted to have, but still couldn't.

He closed his eyes and started kneading his forehead with his palms. Everybody he knew always only had the best things about him. Right from Scarlett to Mark to Olivia to every fucking person he had ever worked with, everybody said he deserved to have a loving wife, a stable family.

And yet, here he was, on a Friday night, home alone with a beer bottle, on the verge of anxiety.

Was it just anxiety though?

Who the fuck is Aiden and why does he deserve to be with her? the voice in his head was back.

They love each other, they want to get married, Chris reasoned.

He doesn't hold a candle next to you, the voice persisted, People love money more than they love others. She will come to you. But you need to let her know you are available. You need to take her to-

"No," Chris interrupted the voice loudly, "No. This is unhealthy. No."

Reaching for his phone, he searched for his therapist's number, when the voice chuckled, You really think a shrink is going to help you with this? Eh? They are only going to ask you to fuck another pussy, or read more books. And I will be damned before you touch another book about trees.

Chris shook his head again, but in vain. Unable to find the number in his contacts, he turned to Google for the second time that night and started searching for therapists in his area. The voice tut-ted, Yeah, as if the psycho doctor is going to shut their trap about Chris Evans crying over a girl.

Chris almost crushed his bottle in frustration. He couldn't let the voice take over. Not now. Not after working his ass off to get where wanted in his career. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the screen again and came across the headline- "Why Do People Write Fanfiction?" The word fanfiction seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was going to ignore the article and scroll downwards, but the brief underneath the headline made him stop- …mostly, people write fanfiction to stay in touch with the characters they love," says leading Psychologist Andrea Williams.

Intrigued, he opened the article and started reading. Then he opened another, and another and by the time he was done, he had read 6-7 articles on the concept of fanfiction and what it entailed.

Sighing, he opened a new word document. He was reluctant to type a letter, let alone a whole fictional story. He had tried everything and yet, you chose to occupy a rent-free space in his mind.

Now all he needed was a reference.

He minimised the document, and opened a new tab on his browser. His hesitant fingers typed the words - Chris Evans Fanfiction - into the search bar, and he instantly winced.

Millions of search results were displayed before him, and as he read the descriptions of each one of them, he realised that 99% of these stories were porn. There was no sugar-coating it. On the 5th page of the search results, he luckily found a story sans the erotica. It was a cute one-shot about him going on a first date with the reader. He read it with squinted eyes, afraid that a sex scene might jump out of the blue, but luckily, nothing of the sort happened.

Chris liked reading it. It was an innocent story filled with romance.

But the only problem? It was written from the reader's point of view. He checked a few others, and realised they were all written from the women's perspective, not his.

He sat back in his chair, turning his head such that he was looking at the ceiling, contemplating his options.

You want her, the voice whispered.

Reluctantly, he typed the first word that came to his mind. Your name.

Chris rested his chin on his palm, wondering where to start. If this were fiction, would tonight have gone different? Would you have visited his house for karaoke that night?

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he bit his tongue in thought. Thinking it was better to start at the beginning, he started typing from his POV-

The first time I saw her I thought she was pretty. I saw her during meetings and the shooting. Then one day I saw her giving food to a homeless man-

Deleting his words, Chris shook his head. This was insane! Right? You were a real human being and it was unethical of him to write this! He needed to learn to handle his feelings.

If you don't have the balls to fight for her, then be with her in the stories you write. Grow a spine Evans, whispered the insulting voice.

Hesitating, he tried to write another paragraph, which ended up getting deleted.

Try again, the voice coaxed him. Pour your heart into this. Write better.

Taking a sip of the beer, Chris started typing again-

It was lunchtime when I saw her arranging some equipment on the table. Her back was facing me as I carefully approached her, afraid to startle her. I breathed in her scent, light, floral and fresh, before whispering her name.

She turned around, a bit surprised to see me, but she smiled nevertheless. Oh gosh her smile. I had seen her smile a few times on the set, but in person, it took my breath away.

"Hi," I managed to greet her shyly. She matched my response.

"I was wondering if you would like to sing karaoke with me? There's a karaoke party tonight at my house if you would like to come," I asked her hopefully.

Her expression turned remorseful as she apologised, "I cannot come Mr Evans. My fiancé won't let me."

Imagine my surprise when I found out about her fiancé. "I didn't know about your fiancé. Why won't he let you come?" I asked her, concerned as she started sniffing a bit.

"He's… he's very strict Mr Evans. He doesn't like it when I go out with my fri-friends or co-workers," she shared between her light sobs.

My heart broke into pieces on hearing her confession. I had often noticed her taciturn behaviour on the set, but I had no idea about the reason behind it.

I raised my hands to cup her face. I was itching to wipe her tears with my lips, but instead, I used my thumbs.

"I want to help you. Please let me," I requested.

"Nobody can help me Mr Evans. I am stuck with a monster." She pulled a chain from underneath her shirt and I got a glimpse at the marks on her neck. "Aiden gave me this chain and locket instead of an engagement ring. He said it will be better than a ring. And now he-" she started sobbing harder. I pulled her into my chest, running my right hand through her hair as my left hand soothed her back.

"And now he uses it as a leash," my angel whispered, horrified, "he says I do not deserve a ring."

I hugged her tighter and thankfully, she buried her face in my chest, "You are no longer stuck with him. Are you listening to me?" I bent my face to bring my lips near her ears, "I will make sure that you are free of him."

She shook her head, reluctantly pulling away from me, "No Mr Evans. I cannot-"

"Yes you can," I interrupted her. "You are going to come to my house for karaoke tonight. Message Aiden right now, and tell him that I will be dropping you home. Okay?"

After some coaxing, she agreed. I held her close as she typed out the message, her hands shaking around her mobile phone. Finally she clicked on the SEND button.

I brushed a kiss on her forehead, "Wait for me in the back alley after the shoot, okay? I will pick you up from there."

She nodded gratefully in response.

I couldn't wait for the shoot to be over that day. In my eagerness, I even messed up a few takes, mumbling over my lines like an idiot. But eventually, I got through the day.

I was excited when I picked her up after the shoot. I could see she was nervous and maybe a little bit scared, but she still entered my car anyway. So I made small talk with her and tried to put her mind at ease.

Finally, when we reached my house, she was in awe.

"This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen Mr Evans," she gasped as I led her inside, "I don't think I have ever seen anything like it before!"

I chuckled, "I am happy you like it. It… it just feels empty sometimes, you know? I find loneliness ubiquitous in this house."

You looked at her puzzled expression and smiled. "Ubi-what was that word Mr Evans?"

"Ubiquitous," I replied, "it means something that is present and is found everywhere."

"Ahh okay," she nodded, "thank you for teaching me."

"I will accept your gratitude only on one condition."

She tilted her head ever so slightly, "And what would that be Mr Evans?"

I smiled as I slightly bent down and held her hand, "You need to start calling me Christopher."

Visibly flustered, my angel looked down at her feet. "I-I can't Mr Evans," she said in a low voice.

"Why can't you?"

"I respect you too much sir," she confessed.

"Hey," I gently nudged her forehead with mine, "I want you to say my name. Please?"

I stared into her eyes as she met mine. God.

There was something about her eyes that was absolutely riveting. The depth of her eyes pulled me in towards her as I read the plethora of emotions hidden within them. Her gaze searched my face for malice, deceit, but only found love and trust in return.

I slowly cupped her face as her breath hitched in her chest. I could feel my own heart race. Bringing my face as close as I could to hers, I whispered, the distance between our lips fast closing, "Please."

She parted her lips ever so slightly. I felt her warm breath on mine as she obliged, "Christopher."

I closed my eyes as I heard the most melodious symphony, my name draped in her sweet voice.

I dipped my head to kiss her, feel the shape of her lips, but she stepped back.

"I-I am st-still engaged Chris-Christopher," she stammered.

I straightened myself, my hands no longer cupping her face, "I understand. I am sorry. Would you like-"

Before I could finish, a car honked outside. While I was curious at the intrusion, her eyes widened with fear.

"That's him," she gasped, "Aiden is here. He found me."

"How is that possible?"

"He has a location app installed on my phone through which he tracks my location," she revealed, visibly shaking at the thought of greeting her fiancé.

"Stay here. You will be safe inside. Let me handle him," I said, squeezing her shoulders.

I walked out of the house and towards the car. The vehicle didn't look in good shape, it's owner even more so.

Aiden manually rolled down his window and spat on the ground. Fumes of cheep alcohol and stale cigarette smoke escaped through the window. "Where is she?" he hollered.

"That's not your concern anymore. She's breaking up with you," I crossed my arms and stood facing him. "If you know what's good for you, you will leave her alone and stay out of her life."

Aiden exited the car at that threat, the door of the vehicle rattled as he opened it. "She said that?" he scoffed, "Color me surprised, I thought the little mouse had no fight left in her. Bring her out here. I want to hear," he wriggled a finger at me, "whatever the fuck you are saying from her own fucking mouth."

"Not going to happen Aiden. You followed her here against her own wishes. Now scoot off before I call the cops," I warned.

"You think I will be scared of some Hollywood prick who shits diamonds?" he sneered.

"No. But you should be scared of the law. You are currently harassing the owner of this private property, not to mention you have clearly abused your girlfriend mentally, emotionally and physically. So be sensible," I took a step towards him, "and fuck off."

"STOP," she shouted as she trusted towards us. She stood in front of me, as if to guard me from her monster of a fiancé, "Please don't hurt him. I will come with you. Just let him be," she pleaded with him as he smirked.

Before he could react, I pulled her behind me, making sure my body was shielding her from Aiden.

"She's a gold-digging bitch. You stay away from her," he pointed at me as he tried to reach her.

I pushed him away once and kept my hand on his weak, thin torso. Turning my head, I asked her for the last time, "Are you sure you want to go with him? I can save you. I will protect you, provide for you and keep you happy!" I urged her.

She looked at me with hope and helplessness. Slowly, she glanced at Aiden who looked like he was ready to commit murder. Sobbing uncontrollably, she removed the chain with the sunflower locket and threw it at his feet.

"Leave me alone," she managed to mumble at him.

Furious, Aiden growled and tried to pounce at her. Fortunately, I intervened on time and punched his sorry excuse of a face into the ground.

She gasped as Aiden fell with a thud. Embarrassed, he slowly got up and dusted himself, muttering under his breath as he sat inside his wreck of a car.

"Don't bother coming back to gather your stuff! I am burning it all tonight you cock-sucking bitch!" and with that outburst, Aiden was finally gone.

She was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably at what had just transpired. I wrapped her in my arms to let her know she was safe. Within moments, I felt her ease into my body.

I closed my eyes and smiled, my nose buried into her hair. My angel was safe. My angel was mine.

Chris blinked his eyes as he re-read his story. He already felt a whole lot lighter, his anxiety at ease, and mind exhausted. Clicking on SAVE, he finished the last of his beer and went to sleep, hoping that this was the end to his problems. Little did he know about the horrors that awaited him, behind the door he had just opened by writing that fictional story.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Chris Evans and his characters taglist: @onetwo3000

This story: @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @carpediemm-18

(If you guys don't want to be tagged in this, just let me know. No hard feelings 😊)

Taglists are open! Just comment, send an ask or a message!

#ShamelessHoesForChris #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevans #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #dark!chris evans #chris evans rpf

266 notes · View notes

thevindicativevordan · 3 years

Text

My Take on a Superman Video Game

I've seen other people give their takes on how to approach this, and given Superman and video games are two major topics of interest for me, I thought I'd give my pitch.

So first off, I’m giving him a health bar. Yes I know some people will b**** and no I don’t care. I don’t care what people who get their Superman knowledge from YouTube or Instagram “fact” pages think about the character, and all the other attempts such as the city health bar in the Returns game didn’t satisfy me. So right off the bat he’s getting a health bar. Second: it’s time to start showing casuals areas of Superman lore they either don’t know about or aren’t very familiar with. The reason for that is people think they “know” Superman so we need to immediately show something they DON’T know about or HAVEN’T seen already to get them to not immediately dismiss Superman out of hand based on memes or whatever. Which leads into my third creative point. Third: I’m not setting the first game in Metropolis. The Arkham games didn’t immediately throw you into an open world Gotham, they built up to it. The Spider-Man PS4 game started off with an open world because they were able to build upon dozens of Spider-Man games that laid the ground work for them. The first Superman game in decades needs to avoid biting off more than it can chew, and throwing Superman into an open world feels like a bad idea. So where can it be? Well there are options. There’s Warworld. There’s Apokolips. But I think the best location is one that’s intrinsically tied to Superman and his Kryptonian background, and serves as a nice counterpart to Batman starting out in Arkham Asylum: The Phantom Zone

The Asylum was a great starting point for Batman for a couple reason: 1. It’s the iconic prison where Batman leaves his Rogues, 2. It’s gothic and horror esque vibe crafts the perfect atmosphere, and 3. it’s place as a center for examining the mind makes it great for exploring Batman’s mental state. For similar reason the PZ is the perfect place to start off Superman: 1. It likewise is an iconic prison for Superman Rogues 2. It’s science fiction and horror mixed together which crafts the perfect atmosphere for Superman to kick ass or be introspective, and 3. It lets Kal come face to face with his Kryptonian heritage in the nastiest way possible as he’s dumped into a place filled with prisoners his father helped exile as well as all the other monsters and criminals other races have dumped there. So he’s going to the Zone but how does he get there and what’s the story? It would be boring if he just walked in. Here’s the pitch: It’s Year 2 of Superman’s career. He’s already established himself as a hero in Metropolis and worldwide. The public knows he claims to mean them no harm and that he only seems to do good deeds, but they know very little about his origins and are divided as to his true intentions. The problem is Clark himself doesn’t really know his origins either beyond knowing he’s an alien from another planet. His only relics from his home planet are the rocket, a tablet written in a language he can’t read, and a curious device that doesn’t seem to have any use. As a show of goodwill, and because he hasn’t made any progress understanding them himself, Clark turns the tablet and the device over to STAR Labs for study. One day as he’s beating down some Intergang thugs, reality twists, and suddenly Clark finds himself in a place that is definitely not Metropolis. The “earth” is chalk white, the sky is a purple, green lightning flashes around as far as he can see, and where the sun should be there’s instead a black hole. Somehow Clark and the terrified Intergang thugs have ended up in the Phantom Zone with no idea of how they got there and how to get back.

The thugs accuse Clark of transporting them there and attack him, with Clark suddenly realizing his powers are fading in this place with no sunlight. Luckily a stranger arrives and aids Clark in dispatching the thugs. Clark thanks him for his aid and then asks who he is. The stranger pauses and tells Clark: “My name is Dru-Zod, a general of Krypton”. He raises a hand for Clark to shake. “I was a friend of your father, Kal-El”. Zod tells Kal about the place he’s in, and his history with it. He tells him that other humans have been brought here as well besides the Intergang thugs, including many of Clark’s foes. Zod informs Clark that the likely culprit for their arrival to the PZ is the very first prisoner Jor-El ever banished to the Phantom Zone: Xa-Du the Phantom King, who has spent so long imprisoned that he seems to have obtained a degree of control over the Zone that gives him strange powers. Kal is told that if he does not collect the scattered humans and escape the Zone soon, he and the humans will become trapped there, as anyone who spends too long in the Zone eventually becomes unable to leave without special equipment on the other side to bring them back, thanks to the way the Zone warps the inhabitants. Kal’s mission is clear: Collect the scattered humans, defeat and pacify his foes trapped there with him so they can be brought back as well, and defeat the Phantom King before he tears a hole between the Zone and the real world that could cause catastrophe for Earth. That’s the basic story pitch, next I’ll go into gameplay mechanics and what Rogues I’d use.

Clark starts the game having been de powered back to “Golden Age” power levels due to there being no sun in the PZ. Zod teaches him about Sunstones that grow naturally in the PZ, which will allow him to slowly re-empower himself. The Sunstones ward off the PZ’s influence and basically act as perk points for Clark to unlock and upgrade his powers. At the start he can’t fly, he can only run and leap. Zod acts as Kal’s mentor throughout the game, teaching him about Kryptonian history and how to read the language. He also tutors him in the dangers of the Phantom Zone as well as training him to hone his powers. Kal gets the feeling there’s more to Zod than he’s letting on though, and some of his comments raise Kal’s suspicions. The base of the game is the Fortress of Solitude.

It’s backstory is that when Jor-El first discovered the PZ, he built the FoS as a research outpost to study the place. It’s packed full of Kryptonian tech and it has the ability to shift back into the natural world. Zod couldn’t use it because it’s caretaker Kelex only responds to House El members. However it won’t shift back until it judges its user “sterilized” in order to avoid contaminating the natural world with the Zone’s influence. Because Kal was brought over so suddenly and without the proper tech, he has to use Sunstones to purge the Zone from his body before the Fortress will respond to his commands. This is a nice way of tying the gameplay and story together. Kal needs the stones to save the civilians and to go home, which helps explain why he might do side quests rather than stick with just the main questline. Civilians Superman has to rescue in the Zone: Lois Lane, Perry White, Jimmy Olsen, Dr. Veritas, Ron Troupe, Dr. John Henry Irons, Dr. Hamilton, Bibbo, Dr. Hank Henshaw and his family, Commissioner Henderson, Captain Maggie Sawyer, Detective Turpin, members of the Newskids Legion, Morgan Edge, and other OCs or nameless civilians. Kal also meets Krypto, who was transported into the Zone by Jor-El in order to watch over the Fortress as its guard, in order to keep it safe so that Kal might one day reclaim it. Rogues: Some of Superman’s Rogues have been teleported to the PZ as well, and unfortunately they have their own plans for escaping the Zone, even if it means they have to kill Superman to do it.

Metallo: John Corbyn is a cyborg soldier that served in the US Army under Sam Lane and was created as the government’s Anti-Superman deterrent. After a fight with Superman in his early career left him crippled, he was bonded to a nanosuit that equips him with various weaponry capable of killing Superman. He believes Superman transported everyone there as part of a first strike against humanity. Parasite: A Lexcorp lab experiment gone horribly wrong, Rudy Jones is a science fiction vampire who needs to kill to sustain himself. He absorbs the memories and skills of whoever he kills, and he is able to transform his body into various weapons (think Alex Mercer from [PROTOTYPE] to know what I mean). He’s hunting the civilians to feed on and has his eye on Superman as well. Livewire: Leslie was a vlogger with a far looser code of ethics than Clark. Her “reporting” eventually angered the wrong people who attempted to have her assassinated. Instead Leslie ended up with powers over electromagnetism, and a grudge against Morgan Edge who she believes was behind the Intergang hit on her. Edge is her target but she doesn’t mind stepping over Superman’s corpse if she has to. The Terran (Terra-Man): Krypton wasn’t the only planet to discover the Phantom Zone. One alien race banished the immortal hunter known as the Terran, whose human name was Tobias before he was abducted by aliens who were interested in the potential of the human meta gene and wanted to experiment on him. Their experiment was a success and Tobias broke free, using their own weaponry to hunt them down and carve a bloody path across the stars. Eventually he was transported to the PZ and is now desperate to escape. Mr. Mxy: Who is this creature? Neither a human nor seemingly an alien prisoner of the PZ, Mxy engages Clark in a series of puzzles that reveal secrets about the PZ... and foretell of threats to come. Red Cloud: An enforcer for the Invisible Mafia, her only loyalty is to her boss Leone. Her identity is a secret from Clark for now and she intends for it to remain that way. Silver Banshee: Not every human teleported to the PZ was unchanged. Some reacted much more strongly to the Zone’s influence. One former human has now been twisted into the sinister Silver Banshee, driven insane by the whispers in the Zone and the alterations to her body. She poses a formidable threat to Clark in her current state. Xa-Du: The Phantom King and first prisoner of the Phantom Zone sent from Krypton. Zod claims he was insane even before he was sent here but his incarceration has done nothing to improve his health if so. Gleefully plotting his return to the real world, Xa’s only desire is to raise an army of super zombies with himself as their Necrogod ruler. His time in the Zone has given him control over the degraded Phantoms, and he can channel the energies permeating the Zone into a variety of attacks (basically he’s a space necromancer). His aim is to corrupt Kal-El and the Fortress and use both to travel to Earth and he will never stop hunting Kal. Non boss mooks for Clark to fight: Phantoms - Some of the inhabitants of the Zone have degenerated into the ghostly Phantoms, their only desire to spread their suffering to others. They have been so warped by the Zone they’ve become a part of it and are thus incapable of permanently dying. Shades - Much more powerful Phantoms, Shades retain some memory of their former lives and posses some of their former skills. They serve as the elite of Xa-DU’s forces. Shadowbreed - Native creatures of the PZ, these beings feed on the light of the SunStones and thus see Clark as a meal as well. They possess various animals of the PZ to attack and feed on him. Eradicators - Once these machines served House El in their study of this place acting as defenders. But time has eroded their programming and they now seek to destroy even the Last Son of their old House.

That's the basic of my pitch, I think it's a fairly manageable one that addresses a lot of the arguments you get from people about why a game "wouldn't work" or whatever.

#superman #the phantom zone #supermangame #krypto the superdog #fortress of solitude

22 notes · View notes

jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

The Last Weekend (S2, E13)

It’s been a trip fam. Hopefully, it continues for a third season. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:19 - That taxidermy is creepy af.

0:25 - Ok. But like, this is amazing. Look at Malcolm. He’s confused, annoyed, and a little pissed off but he doesn’t actually look scared. He just woke up in a strange place tied to a chair and the last thing he remembers is telling his father to run. He knows his serial killer father kidnapped him but he’s not scared because there’s a part of Malcolm that is so so desperate for Martin to love him. Malcolm is NOT okay. His reaction to being kidnapped by his serial killer father is evidence of that. This dude is not in a good mental place. I'm here for it. This is bad.

0:40 - Groggy, annoyed, and sassy Malcolm is adorable.

0:51 - This is a woman who thinks not telling the NYPD about that Capshaw phone call killed her son. She doesn’t know where Malcolm is right now or if he’s alive. BUT Jessica knows Martin has Malcolm and therefore - Malcolm is not safe. The guilt and fear is oozing from Jessica and I want to hug her. :( <3

1:13 - Again. Malcolm is in danger. Why doesn’t Ainsley seem to be worried? At all?!? This girl’s lack of empathy is genuinely concerning. If my brother was abducted by our abusive father I would be a wreck.

1:25 - “Don’t get cocky.” HA. What a great line. Although, it’s really sad to see how desperate Ainsley is for some attention from her mother. Although, I do love the contrast between this line and the line from 1x3: "You watch my reports?" "Not with the sound on". Jessica really is growing as a parent. I love that for her.

1:31 - “Capshaw is claiming Malcolm was Dad’s accomplice.” WHY ISN'T AINSLEY UPSET ABOUT THIS. SHE’S ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME JUICY GOSSIP. BE ANGRY GIRL. BE SCARED. BE UPSET. THIS IS YOUR BROTHER. At least Jessica is pissed and scared about it.

1:46 - “Cruel eyes.” Has Capshaw ever looked at Malcolm? That boy has the sweetest eyes ever. They’re a gorgeous shade of blue, wide, and expressive. Never cruel. Often fearful. ALSO the fact that Capshaw looks at the window (where she knows Malcolm’s friends are standing) when she says this INFURIATES ME. I want this woman dead. She is the spawn of Satan and you can't change my mind.

1:50 - The way Dani looks at Gil when he says, “You buying this?” is wonderful. This girl is scandalized at the idea that Gil might be buying Capshaw’s story. This girl is team Malcolm and I love her for it. She's so offended at the idea that Gil - the man who's known Malcolm since he was 10 years old - might think Malcolm is a bad guy. <3 <3

1:52 - “Our boy’s crazy, but not that crazy.” <3 <3 <3 Every time JT calls Malcolm “our boy” or “our guy” my heart explodes. I love the evolution of their relationship so so so much. <3 Also JT is giving off major big brother vibes to Dani and Malcolm this episode and I LOVE IT. <3

1:54 - “Good. We all know she’s lying. Problem is we’re the only ones.” This whole scene. *CHEF’S KISS* Seriously, protective!Dani, protective!JT, and protective!Gil in the same scene?!? All going to bat for Malcolm? I’m in love. This is the found family content I’m here for. ALSO look at GIL. This man is so so pissed that someone is trying to paint his surrogate son as the bad guy. Gil is a good man but someone is threatening his family and that means he’s going to break his own rules. <3 I’m here for it. This is the kind of inner turmoil I subscribed to this show for.

2:02 - "Good morning sleepyhead." I have thoughts. 1) If Martin truly cared about Malcolm why didn't he restrain Malcolm on one of those twin beds (where he could actually sleep) instead of tying him to a chair?!?! 2) Look at how hard Martin is trying to act like Malcolm's friend (not even a good friend). He's not acting like Malcolm's dad. A dad or a good friend wouldn't leave a guy who just suffered from an embolism alone and tied to a chair. They'd take him to a hospital, obviously that was out of the question here. So for the sake of this comparison, a good friend/dad would have put Malcolm on the bed, gotten some warm blankets for him, made sure water was close by, and stayed with him until he woke up - to you know, MAKE SURE HE'S STILL BREATHING?!?! BUT not Martin, this dude just waltzes into the room and delivers a mildly condescending yet cheery rendition of "good morning sleepyhead" almost as though Malcolm's unconscious state was a burden to Martin. Even though Malcolm was unconscious because MARTIN DRUGGED HIM (also not good!Dad behaviour).

2:04 - "You drugged me?!?" This breaks my heart. After everything, Malcolm is still surprised (and rightfully annoyed) that his father drugged him. Malcolm knows that Martin is a bad man. He knows Martin has drugged him before. He knows he shouldn't trust Martin but after everything there's still a part of Malcolm desperate to believe that Martin loves him. PLUS one of the last memories Malcolm has before he woke up in this motel is of Martin saving his life. Malcolm was giving in to the "maybe Dad really does love me" mentality. It's heartbreaking and I want to give Malcolm a hug.

2:23 - I find this whole exchange so upsetting yet interesting. Both Malcolm and Martin are being openly hostile to each other. Usually, Malcolm is civil to Martin but right now, Martin is NOT chained to a wall and Malcolm is acting like an argumentative and whiny teenager (and rightfully so but still not a safe move). Martin is matching Malcolm’s mood. Martin is engaging in Malcolm’s frustration with an off-putting amount of cheer. I honestly believe Martin is just ecstatic that he’s been given an opportunity to ‘be a father’ again. There’s also a part of me that is completely convinced that Martin was already hatching his plan to have Malcolm kill him. Why would he do that? My answer: 1) Martin doesn’t want to go back to prison, 2) To finally get revenge on Malcolm for turning him in in 1998, 3) he’s a predatory psychopath and he saw an opportunity to screw with someone, 4) Martin is pissed off that Malcolm keeps trying to distance himself from Martin. Martin see’s it as betrayal and he wants to make Malcolm suffer.

2:25 - THIS. IS. AMAZING. The way Malcolm immediately panics and tries to escape Martin when the switchblade comes out is incredible. You can see Malcolm’s perspective shift. We actually see it flip back and forth all episode. Half the time, Malcolm is a little boy desperately trying to convince himself that Martin has changed and that Martin loves him. The other half of the time, Malcolm is a logical and educated adult who knows Martin is a dangerous killer who is trying to manipulate him. It’s such a compelling dichotomy.

2:44 - “We are the victims here Malcolm.” I absolutely believe that Martin believes this statement. HOWEVER, I also think he’s using the situation to his advantage in an attempt to sway Malcolm’s trust in him.

2:52 - “You’re in a pickle.” This infuriates me. Martin does NOT love or care about Malcolm. What Martin does love - is what Malcolm does for him. ie. Providing him a connection to the real world (visiting him in prison), giving him an outlet for his attention-seeking needs, giving him a plaything to manipulate. Martin views Malcolm as a pet NOT a person and NOT a son. That kills me.

2:55 - “I need to call Gil.” <3 <3 This is absolutely beautiful and terrifyingly stupid. Beautiful because Malcolm is in trouble and his knee-jerk reaction is “Gil can help. I trust Gil. Gil loves me. He’ll listen. He’ll help.” <3 <3 So precious. It’s scary though because it’s no secret that Martin views Gil as a threat to his family. This will make Martin more determined to manipulate Malcolm. Because again, Martin views everything as possessions. He doesn’t actually love Malcolm, Ainsley, and Jessica. He loves the idea of them and what he can do with them. He doesn’t actually care about them though. He only cares about their wellbeing to the extent of how it will affect him. (SIDE NOTE: I’m honestly crushed that we didn’t get a proper Gil+Martin face off during this finale.)

2:58 - “Gil’s great and all.” This man speaketh from his ass. He hates Gil. This is some damn fine manipulation. He’s interaction with Malcolm in a way he knows Malcolm will have a positive reaction. I respect it. It also makes my blood boil (out of love for Malcolm).

3:05 - “Who would you believe?” This hurts. Look at how absolutely crushed Malcolm looks. Malcolm knows no one will believe him. Why would they? He’s the son of a serial killer with well documented mental health issues and well documented issues with rule-following. It’s common knowledge that he’s an intense and weird dude. And it’s all Martin’s fault.

3:07 - “Can we talk?” I’m impressed. First, Martin complements the man he knows Malcolm respects more than anything. Then, he appeals to Malcolm’s insecurities and fears of being ‘The Surgeon’s son’. He does it all calmly, in a comforting tone of voice. This is manipulation at its finest.

3:17 - “You look ridiculous.” This is Malcolm fully aware that Martin just tried to manipulate him. It still hurt Malcolm because those fears about no one believing him are completely rational and a very logical outcome of the scenario but at least Malcolm is aware of Martin’s game.

3:30 - “I’m Clare.” .....Clare = Claremont. Did Martin do that subconsciously or is he aware? I can totally see him accidentally picking that name because after 20 years he’s begun to define himself as a part of the Claremont institution. He’s almost trying to maintain that link to the life he’s become accustom to.

3:35 - “Too insane.” Holy shit. Malcolm sassing Martin is 1) hilarious but 2) super scary because I just keep waiting for Martin to snap and hurt Malcolm for his “disrespectful and ungrateful behaviour”. Malcolm really has no fear in this scene and I’m scared for what that means for his mental state. It’s not good. That much I know.

3:45 - “I’m not your friend.” This broke my heart. Malcolm is so upset as he delivers this little outburst. He can see that Martin is trying to act like his friend instead of a loving father. It’s killing the little boy inside of Malcolm. It’s also frustrating for Malcolm because he wants so badly to do the right thing (turn Martin in) but he also just wants his dad to act like a real dad.

3:55 - The fear in Malcolm’s eyes when Martin brings the knife back out. <3 Gorgeous.

4:00 - The trepidation in Malcolm’s face as Martin cuts him loose. <3 ALSO, “I didn’t kill you. That’s gotta count for something.” why the hell should that count for something now? Martin tried to kill a 10 year old Malcolm. That should be the end. Any FATHER who tries to kill his 10 year old son (no matter what the kid may have done) is a garbage human and that child should never be told he has to forgive, trust, or have a relationship with his father. On some level Malcolm knows this BUT he’s also desperately trying to convince himself that Martin is a changed man.

4:12 - WTF Ainsley? This scene genuinely makes me believe Ainsley has been somehow involved in this whole prison break scheme. Or at least, she’s been in contact with Martin since the escape.

4:43 - “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Okay. Fine. Ainsley is finally showing a bit of fear here. But is it because of the Woodsman? Something tells me Martin has gotten into Ainsley’s head and Ainsely genuinely believes that Malcolm is safe with Martin. The Woodsman changes things though. Maybe the Woodsman was a variable Ainsley wasn’t expecting or didn’t plan with Martin.

5:00 - “Why are we in Vermont?” First of all - there’s something precious about the way this line was delivered. Secondly, why is Malcolm eating? Doesn’t most food make him sick (1x1)? This is a high stress situation - presumably he’d be too nauseous/stressed to eat right now.

5:15 - “That dream’s as dead as your 23 victims.” hahahaha ZING. This line actually hurts though. It’s not just Martin’s dream that’s dead. Malcolm’s is too. Presumably Malcolm has a fantasy somewhere in the back of his mind where he’s happily married with children. Hell, maybe his children visit their grandparents every weekend for Sunday brunch? But Malcolm probably doesn’t actually think he can have kids or a spouse because he’s terrified of what kind of a father and husband he’d be. That’s Martin’s fault. Martin has doomed Malcolm to avoid the deep, meaningful relationships in life that Malcolm clearly craves.

5:25 - “I’m absolutely right” The anger in Malcolm’s voice is incredible and concerning. On one hand, it’s great that he’s being honest with Martin. He’s making Martin work for his trust and he’s communicating that Martin ruined certain aspects of Malcolm’s life. On the other hand, this boy has no sense of self-preservation. He’s provoking a predatory psychopath. He’s almost begging Martin to hurt him. I’m terrified at what that means for Malcolm’s mental health.

5:35 - “Don’t you ever think it’s possible that I changed?” Look at Martin’s big stupid face. He doesn’t believe that he’s changed. He’s just trying to manipulate Malcolm. Martin doesn’t view Malcolm as a son. Just as a plaything.

5:55 - “You want to find a missing woman. That’s your brilliant plan?” It’s an excellent plan. It’s a plan Martin knows Malcolm won’t be able to deny. Martin has observed Malcolm’s obsession with understanding serial killers for 23 years. Martin has watched Malcolm torture himself to save the victims of serial killers. Martin knows this is the one plan that will (at least temporarily) stop Malcolm from turning him in. Malcolm’s need to help other people is stronger than his need to help himself. So again, Martin is a shitty father.

6:19 - “I worked the Woodsman case at the bureau for years.” Of course he did. $100 bucks says Martin knew that and he planned this out before his escape. Capshaw was an inconvenient hiccup in the plan but he was always going to kidnap Malcolm and try to manipulate Malcolm into becoming his partner in crime.

6:42 - “Someone who’s not going to call Gil Arroyo the first chance he gets.” Damn. Martin feels threatened by Gil’s relationship with Malcolm. Which is why an escaped!Martin and Gil showdown would’ve made my year.

6:46 - How convenient that Jeannie is from New York.

6:52 - “But we could save her. Together.” Ugh. This breaks my heart. You can see that Malcolm knows Martin is manipulating him. You can also see that this is an offer Malcolm can’t deny. Saving people and finding/understanding killers is what keeps Malcolm sane. PLUS he desperately wants to spend time with the ‘nice’ version of his dad. The one he remembers from 1998. Malcolm is eating out of the palm of Martin’s hand and it’s so so so upsetting.

7:01 - Why does Gary look so much like Deputy Crutchfield? It’s the moustache.

7:10 - “This is my partner. Cameron.” UGh. I’m going to throw up. 1) Malcolm’s startled expression melts my heart. This boy does not want to be Martin’s partner in any sense of the word. 2) Was Martin implying that Cameron is Clare’s sexual partner? The hand around Malcolm’s shoulders made it feel that way to me.

7:15 - Ugh. :( The way Malcolm looks at the hand on his shoulder. :( You can see how conflicted he feels. He likes the gentle, fatherly physical affection from Martin but he knows that Martin is a killer and this is an act. You can see that Malcolm knows this is all a hoax but you can also see how desperately Malcolm wants to believe in it.

7:45 - OMG. This is a man who hasn’t been in public for a very long time. This is not socially acceptable behaviour and Malcolm looks so embarrassed and scared (that someone will recognize the serial killer making loud noises of pleasure over his pancakes).

7:55 - I love that Malcolm isn’t eating. It aligns with Malcolm’s canonical eating problems. Kudos for the rare plot consistency.

8:13 - “I suppose I’m a little bisexual.” Ugh. Shut up Martin. You absolute moron. You’re not bisexual. You’re just a manipulative nutcase. It does make me wonder though, is this Martin’s way of trying to bond with Malcolm? Like maybe (whether it’s true or not) Martin thinks Malcolm might not be straight and he’s trying to have a father-son coming out of the closet moment? .....it sounds like a reach even in my head but here I am with this theory.

8:39 - The fact that Martin is such a verbal feminist throughout this show is so off putting to me. He’s a serial killer. He has no issues MURDERING people for FUN. Yet somehow it feels like I’m supposed to respect him more than the average man because he believes women are people with rights? Nah. It makes me hate him more because I don’t thinks he’s an actual feminist. I think he’s acting. He’s trying to appeal to what will make him seem more likeable. I think it’s a tactic he uses to soften Malcolm to his manipulation.

8:48 - “I worked this case for years. Almost lost my mind over it.”........okay so I want more details on this. Did the FBI take him off the case? Did he stop working the case because he was fired? Did Gil watch Malcolm become consumed by the case and beg him to take himself off the case?

8:52 - “I called every number at the FBI. You wanted nothing to do with me.” I hate Martin. He’s trying to blame Malcolm. He’s suggesting that more women could have been saved from the Woodsman if Malcolm hadn’t been ignoring Martin while he worked for the FBI. Martin is actually implying that the Woodsman could have been caught years ago if Malcolm wasn’t such a bad son.

8:57 - “...such anger issues. Still do.” I’m going to punch him. I hate Martin. He’s mentally torturing our mental-fragile baby and he’s having fun doing it. Malcolm looks absolutely wrecked and my heart is shattering. Someone needs to give Malcolm a hug. Yesterday.

8:59 - This moment has been giffed but damn is it worth pointing out again. The way Malcolm is self-soothing with his left hand while his right hand shakes is gorgeous. It really shows the depth of Malcolm’s inner conflict. I’m in love with this moment. Give Tom Payne an Emmy. Please.

9:13 - “There’s no time, my boy.” Every word that comes out of Martin’s mouth is calculated and manipulative. He has Malcolm exactly where he wants him and I hate it.

10:05 - I’m 90% sure Martin already knows who the Woodsman is. He’s just playing dumb so he can screw with Malcolm’s head for longer.

10:17 - YES MALCOLM. Stand up to Martin. I love it. It also makes me worry about Malcolm’s mental health but I think we can all agree that Malcolm’s been on a downward spiral for months. At this point, our boy is not going to start improving his mental state until he hits rock bottom.

10:19 - Martin actually looks shocked when Malcolm demands he earn his trust. Like it never occurred to him that Malcolm might be willing to rebuild the trust to begin with.

10:30 - This whole scene between Gil and Ruiz is genuinely one of my top scenes of this episode (maybe even of the season). “The media will crucify him” “You might as well issue a shoot on sight order” “This isn’t a joke” “He has his demons but he’s not his father.” “I’ll stake my career on it.” This is one of the purest Papa!Gil scenes of the season and Malcolm isn’t even present. I love how Gil is literally willing to put his entire career on the line for Malcolm. I love how Gil is fighting for Malcolm in a public setting. Look at how the whole precinct watches the exchange. Gil is putting himself on the line in front of an entire precinct of people who respect him out of love for Malcolm. <3 <3 <3

10:47 - “If he’s still alive.” If. Gil is terrified. Gil is losing hope. This isn’t like Watkins. Gil knows how desperately Malcolm wants Martin’s love and Gil knows that compromises Malcolm’s ability to profile his way out of a dangerous situation. Gil knows that Martin will kill Malcolm. Maybe not today, this week, or this year but it’s part of Martin’s plan. Gil knows that even if Martin doesn’t kill Malcolm - he’s capable of taking Malcolm away forever. Maybe by going on the run but maybe just because he tormented Malcolm to the point where Malcolm regresses to the scared 10-year old that Gil worked so hard to help. Gil knows Malcolm won’t survive that kind of trauma again. At least not mentally. Gil is terrified and I’m in awe.

11:05 - “C’mon kid. Where the hell are you?” Hear that? It’s my heart shattering into a million pieces because this is the type of father Malcolm deserves. The fatherly concern Gil has for Malcolm is everything to me.

11:20 - “Damn his daughter’s smoking.” hahahaha the irony.

11:24 - Why am I so shocked and delighted that Malcolm has an NYPD ID? <3 It makes perfect sense that he’d have one but now I have these headcanons of Gil taking Malcolm around to the accounting office, and the administration offices to get him set up at the NYPD and my heart can’t handle how cute it is.

12:12 - “You brought egg salad.” Ugh. These guys are so artificially in love and it grosses me out.

12:54 - See what I mean? Crutchfield looks like Gary from the motel. I can’t unsee it.

13:12 - Look another moment where Gil is CLEARLY thinking “this family I swear” hahahaha this man is so done with life today

13:44 - “I know that look Jess.” <3 Aww....they’re practically married. <3 Jokes aside, this is amazing. Jessica respects Gil and she stops her plans when she notices the look on Gil’s face. She knows he’s not trying to control her - he’s trying to protect her and her children. He loves them and he’s trying to lighten her load.

15:00 - “It’s your Lieutenant.” there’s a split second when you can see the hope, confusion, and fear clouding Malcolm’s face. For just a moment he thinks Gil is on the phone. Then the deputy says “Clare” and Malcolm’s expression transforms into one of annoyance and disgust.

15:20 - “I didn’t have a credit card.” BAHAHAHAHAHA can we all just agree that talking about porn with your adult children is gross?

15:27 - This. Is. The. Worst. Thing. That. Could. Happen. The headline says “Son of Martin Whitly” and then later we find out Malcolm BRIGHT is on a wanted poster. Malcolm’s privacy from the press has been compromised. His life has been compromised. Nothing will ever be the same. This is bad for Malcolm’s already fragile mental health. His flimsy sense of safety has been forcibly removed and the public is going to crucify him again. Just for being Martin Whitly’s son. People are going to Google him. They’re going to find out he went to Harvard, that he was fired from the FBI, that he has mental health problems (although, Ainsley already exposed that).

15:52 - Damn. It should be illegal for someone’s wanted picture to be that attractive (and I say that as an asexual).

16:00 - “You need a minute?” I love LOVE this interaction between JT and Dani. You can see that JT is a little unsure of how to talk to Dani because he loves her like a little sister and he knows she loves Bright. It’s adorable. <3 Big brother JT is my favourite JT.

16:17 - “I like the guy.” UGH. I’m going to go sob in the corner. <3 <3 This line is AMAZING for two (2) reasons. 1) JT is admitting that he likes Malcolm. The bromance is real and I’m here for it. 2) This is JT subtly telling Dani that he knows she likes Bright as more than a friend and it’s not a bad thing. Malcolm isn’t a bad person and he can understand why she’s attracted to the annoying little dude. <3

16:35 - Why is Ainsley working with Dani and JT? Does she actually want to find them? I still think she’s somehow involved in this.

16:48 - “Did you steal this truck?!?” Good boy Malcolm. Don’t trust him.

17:05 - Martin’s biggest mistake: he underestimated how devoted Malcolm is to his ‘mission’. He wasn’t able to manipulate and subdue Malcolm as quickly as he would’ve liked and now his plan is unravelling because Malcolm is snapping out of his ‘Martin might be good’ trance.

17:19 - “I’m calling Gil. I should’ve known.” <3 I have no words. Just joy.

17:45 - “I do not want my son getting killed because of it.” LIES. Martin tried to kill Malcolm because of it when Malcolm was 10 years old. Martin didn’t care when Malcolm was bullied, shunned, and literally locked in a closet because of Martin. Martin didn’t care that the weight of his crimes destroyed his son’s childhood and continued mental health. Martin. Doesn’t. Care. The problem? Malcolm so so desperately wants to believe that Martin cares about him. You can convince yourself of almost anything if you want to badly enough.

18:13 - Annnnnd Martin’s plan is back on. He’s lied his way back into Malcolm’s tentative good graces and the manipulation is still in full force.

18:18 - The parallel that Martin is going on a stakeout with Malcolm right now and the fact that Gil used to take Malcolm on stakeouts as a kid is overwhelming. Do you think Martin knew about those stakeouts? Is this Martin’s way of trying to prove to Malcolm that he’s a better father than Gil?

18:33 - I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. Capshaw is crazy and I don’t like her alone with my queen Jessica. #stressed

18:37 - “Believe me, I understand.” Ugh. Someone (preferably Gil) hug Jessica. This woman has been repressing her emotions for too long. :(

18:56 - Ooooooooohhhhhh Capshaw just made the biggest mistake of her life. This woman is actively trying to convince the world that Malcolm is just like Martin Whitly and then she said as much to his mother’s FACE. I’m here for the lady fight. Say what you want, but vicious girl fights are so much more entertaining than dudes who just hit each other.

19:29 - Bitch. Jessica regularly mixes pills with alcohol. Research your victim, moron. This isn’t going to work.

19:56 - “You. Always you.” .....isn’t that what Malcolm said to Eve? Ew. ALSO the way Martin dismisses Malcolm’s admittance is very upsetting. If he wanted to prove that he’s a good father he should really pretend to care. At least a little.

20:25 - As far as Martin is concerned, this is a victory. His son trusts him enough to let him out of the car - unsupervised. Martin’s plan is working (as far as Martin knows anyways. Malcolm is still definitely conflicted).

20:43 - I love that Malcolm keeps calling for “Martin”. Not “Dad”. Not “Dr. Whitly” (that would be bad on account of the manhunt). Just “Martin”. This goes back to Malcolm not knowing who “Martin” is to him He’s still trying to figure it out. Hell, he only resorts to calling him “Clare” when he thinks it’s the only way Martin will get back in the truck.

21:15 - “What the hell is he doing?” EXCELLENT question. Seriously - did this moron not recognize the Surgeon and his son? There’s a literal manhunt for these two right now. It’s all over the news. It was playing on the precinct TV only a few hours ago. WHY DID CRUTCHFIELD NOT CALL ANYONE ABOUT THEIR IDENTITIES?!? Isn’t it protocol to call the NYPD about this or a hotline? I’m sure it said as much on the wanted flyers and the news.

22:05 - I’m honestly so stressed that Jessica is tipsy and drugged right now.

22:35 - “Back then I wasn’t a good judge of character. Now I can sniff them out a mile away.” UGH. This honestly gives me PTSD. My mom says the same thing. She married an abusive man and now she claims she’s self-aware and is an excellent judge of character (spoiler alert: she’s not). My mom is about as good at it as Jessica. I mean, anyone remember Endicott? Or Eve?

23:06 - “What was that Jessie?” OMG. I hate Capshaw more with each passing moment.

23:16. - GIL. OH THANK GOD. JESSICA IS GOING TO BE OKAY. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY. JESSICA DIDN’T GO LONE RANGER ON THIS.

23:34 - Is that a picture of baby Malcolm on the mantle? <3 So cute. <3

24:10 - This bitch is going to jail for a looooonnnng time. Gil Arroyo and Jessica Whitly just heard her admit to torturing their son. She’s going to suffer. I’m happy about it.

24:28 - “Daddy. Daddy.” My heart is breaking. This is a real insecurity that Jessica has about Malcolm. She feels like she’s not enough for Malcolm. That’s why he keeps visiting Martin. That’s why Malcolm was so attached to Gil and Jackie as a kid (and now). Jessica feels inadequate as a mother. That probably contributes to how she emotionally neglects Ainsley. She’s afraid of trying and failing to be enough for both of her children. So she denies herself the possibility of failure by throwing the match.

25:07 - Jessica and Malcolm studying Krav Maga together. Headcannon accepted. My heart swells at the thought.

26:12 - Anyone else think it’s interesting that the picture of baby Ainsley was smashed over Jessica’s head. It just feels too convenient. It has to be some sort of hidden message. Does it mean that Ainsley’s the one who is going to destroy the family? Does it mean Ainsley’s working with Capshaw (or Martin)? It has to mean something. Right?!?

26:34 - “I meant for her sake.” I love Gil. He’s not threatened by the fact that Jessica is a badass. Hell, he thinks it hot. Weak men are intimidated by strong women. Gil’s a keeper.

26:46 - WHUMP. <3

27:15 - This wasn’t part of Martin’s plan but I do genuinely think Martin’s not nearly as scared as he’s acting.

27:38 - Why doesn’t JT introduce Ainsley? Because she’s not law enforcement and she’s not technically supposed to be there?

27:56 - Damn. Ainsley is desperate for attention from anyone. I bet you that’s why she became a reporter. People have to listen to you when your face is on their TV reporting the news.

29:41 - JT is triggered. :( This is PTSD. The last time a gun was pointed at him it was extremely traumatic “I’m a father. I’m a good man and I am not a threat to you.” :( Someone hug him.

29:57 - “But she is.” <3 DAMN. Badass!Dani for the win. <3

30:34 - “Predatory psychopath married an emotionally compromised enabler.” Is this a comment on Jessica and Martin’s marriage? Jessica didn’t consciously enable Martin but her rich lifestyle and the things she was willing to overlook to maintain appearances definitely gave Martin more leeway than he should have had.

30:48 - “You haven’t been in my league for decades.” Yep. Now Martin wants to kill Don. He didn’t need Malcolm to beg him to hurt Don. Martin was already chomping at the bit.

32:00 - “NO.” Malcolm’s not his father. Even now he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He tries to protect everyone from physical harm. Even serial killers. That’s a good man.

32:30 - I hated this speech from Ainsley. It felt....artificial? I just can’t see Ainsley actually believing that her Mother is light, kind, and good when she clearly resents her Mother for paying so much attention to Malcolm and neglecting her. This whole speech just felt really out of character to me. It felt like Ainsley was pulling a Malcolm - saying whatever she needed to get the suspect to confess to the truth.

33:43 - “I can’t. Not anymore.” Bullshit. Martin clearly wants to hurt this guy. He just refuses to do it until Malcolm begs. Also, it feels like the show is trying to suggest that this is Malcolm giving into the ‘darkness’ that Ainsley was referring to. I disagree. This is typical Malcolm - consumed by the need to save a victim and solve the case. This is the guy who chopped off a guy’s hand to save his life, the guy who tried to infiltrate a cult to save Andi, the guy who tried climbed out of an elevator shaft to arrest a serial killer. Malcolm just doesn’t care about himself and his mental health isn’t doing so great. That doesn’t mean he’s becoming a killer. He’s not ‘going dark’.

34:40 - “Please. I’m asking as your son.” This wrecked me. 1) Malcolm looks so utterly destroyed here. Anguish is all over his face. You can see him grasping at straws because he’s so desperate to save Jeannie. He’s willing to compromise the idea that his Dad may have changed. Malcolm knows Martin hasn’t changed but asking him to do this will make it real and kill Malcolm’s desperate fantasy of a bio-dad who loves him. 2) Martin is a piece of shit. You can see how utterly delighted he is when Malcolm begs and refers to himself as Martin’s son. Martin views Malcolm as a possession and it delights him to hear Malcolm confirm that possession (”I’m asking as you son.”)

35:00 - Okay. His hand isn’t shaking but look at him. You can’t tell me he’s enjoying this. He looks terrified, guilty, nauseous and I don’t think it’s because he’s suddenly realizing that he and Martin are the same. I think it’s because he just compromised his moral code to save a total stranger. He somehow found it in himself to favour a Jeannie over Don. Yes - Don is a serial killer. Yes - Jeannie is his victim. So, yeah - picking Jeannie over Don is logical but does that make it right? That’s what Malcolm is struggling with. That AND the fact that he just asked his Dad to hurt someone - the screaming is probably bringing back suppressed childhood PTSD from that camping trip in the woods.

35:13 - Another crazy theory for why Malcolm’s hand isn’t shaking. Have you ever been so so so scared/stressed/anxious that you felt nothing? Seriously - it’s like your brain just shuts down everything but life support and your body goes on autopilot. I honestly think that could be happening to Malcolm as a way to cope with the stress.

35:20 - This is Martin pretending to be tormented and I HATE HIM FOR IT. He’s playing with our broken boy and I despise him for it. Hasn’t Malcolm suffered enough?!?!

36:04 - Something tells me that Don’s testimony will be vital to clearing Malcolm’s name next season (yes, I’m in complete denial that this show is cancelled).

37:03 - This hurts. Martin is comforting Jeannie and it’s bringing back childhood memories for Malcolm. Memories of a Dad who used to read him bedtime stories and tuck him into bed at night. Memories that are tainted with the knowledge that Martin is a serial killer. Look at how sad Malcolm is. He’s fully accepting that Martin hasn’t changed and that he never will. He’s letting go of the desperate hope that Martin might love him the way he remembers as a child. He’s remembering that the love he experienced as a child was all a hoax on Martin’s part to begin with.

37:07 - WHEN DID MALCOLM GET A PHONE??!?! WTF.

37:14 - “The bad man is gone now.” Except he’s not. He’s always been here. He didn’t change. He just tried to be cleverer than his son. It failed.

37:52 - Do you know what would have made this scene even more powerful? A flashback to the phone call baby Malcolm made to 911 in 1998.

38:08 - NOW Martin is Dr.Whitly because Malcolm has fully accepted that Martin = The Surgeon = Dr. Whitly. They’re all the same and they all suck.

38:33 - “Maybe I need to work on that.” <3 <3 Yes, get sober sweetheart. Your dependance on alcohol and pills is not healthy.

38:45 - This Gillica moment will live forever in my heart. I swear I’ve never shipped to people so hard while fully wanting them to be my parents.

38:51 - OMG. Of fucking course it’s Edrisa. <3 hahahahaha

39:29 - The fact that Malcolm gave Jeannie his jacket is so cute to me. Just more proof that Malcolm’s a good guy.

39:57 - Looks like the Claremont cardio program is lacking. (I’m so mean).

40:08 - I love this whole exchange between Martin and Malcolm. 1) I fully believe that Martin is genuinely upset that Malcolm turned him in (the dude doesn’t want to go back to prison - fair enough). 2) Malcolm just looks so broken as he listens to his father rant. You can see how bad Malcolm feels for turning his own father over to the cops. Again. The guilt is consuming Malcolm. Very bad for his flimsy mental health.

40:22 - “You made me become him again.” Okay. Stay in your lane Martin. Let’s not victim blame here. You’re a monster. You’ve been manipulating Malcolm all day and you’re still at it. You wanted to hurt Don but you want to hurt Malcolm more.

41:11 - “This world isn’t for you.” My heart is shattering. You can hear the pain in Malcolm’s voice. This isn’t a conversation anyone should have to have with a parents. Especially not when you’re already wracked with guilt and mental health issues that you’re not coping with.

41:20 - “Dad. Listen to me. I’m trying to save you.” THIS. THIS is the show. For two years we’ve watched Malcolm try to empathize and understand killers because he’s desperate to save his father and alleviate his guilt for turning Martin in.

42:00 - “I was a good father. But you, you were never a good son.” ...............this is bad. Shit. This. Is. Bad. This is going to torment Malcolm for the rest of his life. He is going to constantly question “should I have been nicer to Ainsley? Should I have been more obedient? Should I have shown more of an interest in medicine? Would that have stopped that from killing? Did he kill because I wasn’t a good enough son?” Logically Malcolm will know none of that is true but it won’t matter because pain isn’t always logical.

42:26 - 1) Damn. This family is stabby. 2) holy shit holy shit holy shit. 3) I’m shook. I fully expected it but I’m still shook. It was self defence but that won’t matter. Sure, there’s a 90% chance that Malcolm won’t suffer legally for this but there’s a 100% chance this is going to ruin Malcolm’s life. The guilt is going to swallow him whole. His mental health is going. to reach an all time low. The media will crucify him. No one will look at him the same. He won’t be able to go anywhere without people making assumptions about him. He’s going to be transported back to 1998 - this time with more trauma. It’s not going to be good (and I’m ecstatic at the thought of it because I’m an emotional whump whore).

42:40 - His hand’s not shaking. I honestly think it’s because he’s in shock because Malcolm still looks like hell. He’s dissociating. If this triggers a mute!Malcolm episode I’m going to be the most excited person in the world.

42:46 - “I was right. We’re the same.” This was Martin’s master plan. He knew once he escaped Claremont there was no going back. He didn’t want to go back to prison so he found a way to get himself killed (I’m assuming this kills Martin because that’s a lot of blood). No only did he plan to either 1) be on the run forever or 2) die trying - he made sure that he could torment Malcolm as much as possible along the way. This sentence is going to destroy Malcolm. That sentence has been his greatest fear for 23 years. Now he thinks it’s true. It doesn’t matter that he stabbed out of self-defence. Fear isn’t logical. This is a big problem.

43:12 - “Bright? What did you do?!?” ..................It’s been 3 days and I still can’t handle this sentence. You can see the shock on Dani’s face and the fear in Malcolm’s eyes. He looks like a cornered animal. He thinks she’s going to arrest him - he knows she has to. He thinks he just ruined his chances at a happy ending with Dani. He’s realizing all at once just how bad his life is about to get. AND DANI - she doesn’t believe he’s a killer but that doesn’t mean she’s not scared for him. The dude looks like he’s in the middle of a mental breakdown plus the legal issues - it’s not going to be a good day.

I CAN’T BELIEVE THE SEASON ENDED LIKE THIS. I HATE IT. I LOVE IT. I’M CONFLICTED. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS. I WANT CLOSURE AND THIS JUST GAVE ME MORE QUESTIONS. UGH. THANK GOD FOR AO3.

I sincerely hope another network picks us up for a third season - I’ll be back if they do. If not - thanks for hanging out with me. I’ve had fun and this show will always have home in my heart.

19 notes · View notes

winxwrites · 4 years

Text

What You Want

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral, D/S themes, workplace sex

Word count: 2k

Description: You never expected the racy texts exchanged between you and a coworker to get you in this position...

A/N: Thank you guys for all of the love you showed my first Henry fic! I hope you all enjoy this one! As always, feedback is appreciated ❀

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Startled, you looked up at the brooding man walking towards you. His presence immediately sent a shiver up your spine. You were so taken back by his entrance that you failed to close the tab on your screen. All traces of laughter were suddenly removed from your demeanor.

“Mr. Walker, I was just... I-”

“Oh save it,” he cut you off as he reached your desk. “I’ve been waiting nearly an hour for your response to my email and then I come down here to find you playing around on your laptop. You’re the last one here, what was stopping you from responding?”

You stuttered over your words attempting to string together a coherent answer that would be pleasing to your boss.

“I just had some other things to wrap up. Today’s been pretty busy I guess I got beside myself. I’ll be sure to check my emails more frequently.”

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered state. You were grateful that the screen of your MacBook had gone dark as your superior planted himself by your workspace. Your comfort was broken when he tilted his head toward the computer.

“Turn on your laptop.” That you weren’t expecting.

“I’m sorry?”

Walker laughed. “You heard me, let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

Before you could protest the intimidating man hovered over your desk, his finger gracing across the trackpad to illuminate the screen. All you could do was sit there and pray your on shift doings wouldn’t result in the loss of your job.

Your heart leapt as he took in the sight of the tabs on the screen. Your resolve nearly crumbled when his eyes fell onto the opened messages app.

A shit eating grin was on his face as he mockingly recited the conversation you were engaging in with your coworker Harper.

August is so sexy - He made sure to draw out his words in a teasing manner.

You’re so lucky he’s your boss. If I was the one under him we wouldn’t be getting much work done.

Believe me it took everything in me not to drop to my knees the last time he called me into his office.

I bet his dick is fucking massive. God I can’t believe you haven’t fucked him.

The smirk Walker wore was the biggest you’d ever seen. He looked down at you clearly enjoying your uncomfortable state.

“Want me to read more?”

You hated that you’d been caught. You hated even more the arousal you felt as he spoke to you.

He removed his dark suit jacket and tossed it aside. He called you by your last name to address you as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Stand up.”

You quickly stood from your seated position not wanting to be in even more trouble. You were going to apologize for your indiscretion but your boss waived a dismissive hand to silence you.

He made himself comfortable in your work chair and laced his hands behind his head.

“Never been much of a people pleaser but I guess I can give you what you want.” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t think you’re going to be productive unless you get something to satiate that slutty little mind of yours.”

You bit into your lower lip as you realized what he was asking of you.

“Get on your knees.”

The timber of his voice left no room for discussion. You mindlessly lowered yourself to the floor. The cool feel of the tiled pattern the only thing able to settle the heat that rang through your body.

Your eyes widened looking up at August as you waited for his next command. He chuckled darkly at your submission.

“Go on, be a good girl for me.”

Your unsteady hands reached for the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down enough to expose his black briefs. Your nimble fingers worked to release his hardening member from the tight confines.

Confidence sprang into you as you sat back on your legs. A lewd moan slipped off your tongue as you tasted the salty precum leaking from his tip.

You wrapped your lips around the engorged tip giving a generous suck. You removed his cock from your mouth and stared up at him as you licked a long, wet stripe from his balls to the head of his dick.

His eyes glossed over as you continued to work your mouth over his generous size. Your wrists worked around his shaft as you flattened your tongue around the bulbous head.

August eagerly slid himself down your waiting throat as you gasped for air. You barely had time to adjust before he pushed you onto his thickness. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he quickly pushed you to your limit.

Your blurred vision caught sight of the smug look he wore as he watched you swallow him. You knew he was close when your nose touched the patch of hair that spread across his pelvis.

His cock twitched at the sight of seeing you take whatever he gave you. He reached down and stroked your hair out of your face as his orgasm reached its dawn. His gaze was unwavering as he drank in the image of you swallowing his cum. You tried to hide your struggle as you slurped down the liquid. A relieved sigh left his lips once he’d come down from his high. His dick was still surprisingly hard as the heavy girth weighed against your tongue.

An aggressive hand wrapped around your throat pulling you off his slick cock. A trail of drool dribbled down your chin as you disconnected with his thick member. He used the firm grip on your neck to guide you back onto your feet. You gasped a breath you didn’t realize you were holding once his thumb was removed from the column of your throat.

He shifted his grip to your waist and pressed your backside against your desk.

“August I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again. I’ll be more professional in the future, I promise!”

He released an ironic laugh. “I think you and I can both agree that we’ve clearly passed any professional boundaries that were formerly in place.”

You nodded at his reference to the events that had just occurred.

“You’re right. But August can we just-“

You were cut off. Walker ran his thumb over your chin and collected some of the spit that still resided there. He playfully rubbed the saliva over your bottom lip before popping his thumb into your waiting mouth. You felt like a whore as you sucked on the digit without objection.

“You address me as sir or Mr. Walker, are we clear?” You shook your head in agreement as he removed his thumb from your mouth. “Call me August again and you won’t be speaking at all for a while.”

He gingerly sat back in the chair. “Take off your panties.”

Your hands worked to hitch up the hem of your dress and tug the material down your parted thighs. Walker looped his finger through the flimsy lace and took in the sight of the soaked crotch.

He pressed his palms flat against your knees to part your legs even more. His middle and index finger made their way into your waiting hole. You yelped at the thick intrusions. Walker stroked his fingers back and forth inside your exposed hole. You were reduced to a moaning mess. No man had ever been able to locate your most sensitive spot so quickly.

He withdrew his fingers and wiped your glistening cum on the indigo material of your dress.

His hand reached for your wrist as he impatiently tugged you toward him. Your parted knees were on either side of the chair as you found yourself in his lap. His erection pointed callously at your waiting cunt. You gulped as you worked your hand over his cock realizing -once again- just how big he was. This didn’t go unnoticed by your boss.

“What’s the matter kitten? Are you scared?” Your breathing became uneven as he spoke the taunting words into your ear. “Don’t try and act shy now. You said you wanted this.”

Your right hand squeezed his shoulder as your left guided his thickness into your pussy. You let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down and realized he wasn’t even half way in.

Walker’s hand came up and gripped the back of your neck. He tilted your head in a way that made it impossible to look away from what he was doing to you.

“Oh no kitten, I don’t want you to miss this.” His other hand gripped your thigh and roughly pulled you onto his dick.

His pleasure came first, he made that more than clear. A cocky grin shone on his face once he bottomed out. Your body writhed from the shock of the tight fit.

Reaching between your thighs you tried to rub your clit but August quickly wrapped his hand around your wrist to stop you. A frustrated groan slipped through your lips. He was definitely going to make you work for your release.

His calloused hands dug into your sides as he pulled you deeper onto his dick. You struggled to keep up with the swift pace he’d created.

“Sir please...” you whispered in desperation.

To your surprise he moved his hand between your legs providing you some stimulation. He leaned forward and pressed sloppy kisses to your covered chest. Your eyes rolled back as you noticed the wet patches he’d left over either breast.

A relieved groan left your throat as you slumped against his toned chest. Your fingernails dug shallow crescents into his broad shoulders as you indulged in your impending orgasm.

“Walker let me cum. Oh God! Sir please!” The only sounds in the office space were your desperate moans. August took a second to look away from the place where your bodies connected.

The pattern he drew on your clit became sloppy and you knew the end was in sight for both of you. You graced his neck with kisses as you reached your peak.

A rough hand smacked your ass as you rode out your orgasm. “Look at you being a dirty little slut cumming in my lap.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his shoulder as you came down from your high.

August latched onto your collarbone and sucked brazenly as his own orgasm rang through him. You fidgeted against his thighs from the overstimulation. You knew there would be a blotchy mark left behind but you didn’t care. You were just happy you’d have something to remind you this wasn’t just some dream.

August stood up and placed you back on your desk. You felt vulnerable when you noticed his darkened eyes watching thick globs of cum drip onto the wooden surface.

Neither of you had said a word since you’d finished. You weren’t sure your brain could even fathom a coherent sentence after how hard you’d just cum.

The weight of your encounter suddenly hit you as you leaned down to retrieve your discarded panties. August lifted a heavy foot and trapped the underwear underneath his polished shoes.

“Oh no kitten. You’re gonna keep my cum in that tight little cunt of yours for the rest of the night.” You looked up at him is disbelief. “And tomorrow morning when you come in I’m gonna check and see how good you take direction.”

Lost for words you nodded in compliance.

“Yes sir.”

You slowly stood up, your legs still unsteady. Suddenly you were thankful you’d worn flats. Walker adjusted himself back into his pants and straightened his tie. You were both unsettled when your MacBook rang signifying a new text.

The illuminated screen captured both of your attentions. Of course it was from your friend Harper sending yet another raunchy message about your boss. If she only knew...

August began heading back to his own office. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass windows and thanked the heavens you were the only one working in the office this late.

The heavy footsteps came to a halt as your boss stopped before the elevator. He called your name in an even voice.

You looked back at him in a daze. “Hmmm?”

“Tell your friend she can be next if she’d like.”

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker smut #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine

311 notes · View notes

maybebanks · 4 years

Text

You Know I’m a Minor Chapter 09

JJ Maybank x reader

⚠️: violence, assault, neg. self talk

Start: CH.01

((Full series masterlist at the bottom))

The small breeze caused your dress to wave at your feet. It was a long white dress, simple.

The sun was no longer hot, and the people were just starting to get comfortable in the midsummers environment.

You waved at Pope, who was standing with his father at his station. He smiled at you, but it quickly faded when your father approached you.

He was a different man, in public.

“You look beautiful tonight, darling,” your father spoke quietly.

You shivered, but didn’t make it obvious, “thank you,”

Your bruises were still aching, but makeup was a miracle concealer. And sometimes you even convinced yourself of your own lies.

Just wait until you’re 18. Then you can leave him.

You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips when you saw Kie talking to Pope. The way she tugged at her dress with nerves.

The way Pope slapped himself in the forehead when he said something stupid.

“Hello Miss,” JJ’s voice suddenly appeared.

Your stomach dropped and you looked at your father, he was busy talking to Hayward.

Giving you an outlet to engage in conversation with JJ. You wanted to scold him for talking to you when your father was around, but his cute goofy smile prevented you.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly.

JJ knew why you were being timid, he glared daggers towards your father.

“So this is him huh?” JJ grumbled.

You grabbed JJ and pulled him farther away from your table, your father.

It was bound to happen at some point, but you wanted to push away the moment as far as possible. When your father met JJ.

“I hate him. If he was any other guy I swear he would-”

“He’s my dad,”

JJ raised his eyebrows at your response, but before he could argue, Kie threw her arm around you and started a different conversation.

You noticed JJ’s eyes light up at the sight of Sarah a few feet away.

“I gotta give Sarah this note! One sec guys,” JJ says, then runs towards the dancing area.

You decide to follow him, “Kie. Do you think Sarah hates me? For blaming that shit on her dad,” you asked.

“Y/n, don’t be so worried. Sarah may not believe it, but a man like that hurts people. I mean, maybe not in the same way as-“

“Hi Kie, Y/n,” Sarah says in a happy tone, she was blushing at the note, you wondered what was on it.

“Kie, Pope wanted you over at the bar,” she says.

Kie runs off.

“Sarah,” you cleared your throat, “I was hoping we could just talk-“

Before you could finish, Rafe suddenly stepped between you. His light blue suited shoulders covering your view of Sarah.

“Sarah! I hope you don’t mind, Y/n and I need to have a chat. Right this way, Y/n,” Rafe asked, you saw Topper was following you two.

“Rafe, get your hands off me. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. We don’t need to ‘chat’.”

Rafe chuckled, “I have some questions for you Y/n. And if you don’t answer them,” he paused to laugh lowly, “I’ll have my fun with you,”

He slowly traced a finger on your cheek. You turned away in disgust.

“You’re sick,” you spat. Then attempted to get away, but Rafe held you against the wall.

His hand covered your mouth and he pulled you inside, finally stopping at the boys bathroom/locker room.

No one noticed anything strange along the way. Which made you hate kook life even more.

“I really thought she’d be more scared,” Rafe shrugged, “you’re really taking the fun out of this babe,”

“Fuck you! Asshole,” you squirmed again.

“Aw man I just got serious deja vu...oh right! We were doing this before! But then my dad rudely interrupted us, wanna explain that?”

“Maybe I’m the daughter he always wanted,” you answer sourly.

Someone else laughed, “you’ve got fire, no wonder Maybank likes you,” it was Kelce, you recognized him from before.

“I’m not doing anything for either of you. So fuck off and let me go!” You shouted.

Yet again, they covered your mouth. They chucked when they saw how week you look. Rafe advanced towards you. His nails scratched your skin slightly when he pulled the hem of your dress up over your waist.

He pulled at your underwear by your hip, then let go. It snapped back and sent a shock.

You yelped.

“Shh!” Rafe said, pushing his finger against your lips.

///

“Have you seen Y/n?” JJ asked Pope and Hayward.

“Good to see you to JJ,” Hayward chuckled.

“No I haven’t. Maybe ask her Dad?” Pope offered, gesturing towards your father, in his own area of service.

JJ scoffed, “That man wouldn’t help me even if I asked. Plus Y/n told me not to talk to him,”

“Yeah but she could be in trouble,” Pope said uncomfortably.

“What kind of trouble? This is Midsummers...” JJ said, scanning the environment once again.

Pope shrugged, “Shit, I haven’t seen Rafe and-“

“Hey guys!” Kie says, “I just got done talking with my mom, and I fucking saw Sarah and John B kissing. And he told me they weren’t macking,”

“Yeah that’s great Kie,” JJ says sarcastically, he wasn’t worried about that, he was deeply concerned about you. He couldn’t help it.

“We can’t find Y/n, have you seen her?” Pope asks Kie.

“No, I last saw her talking with Sarah. But that was like 10 or so minutes ago,”

Suddenly, Kie stiffens, and Pope gasps. They notice your dad approaching them.

“Just..act frickin normal,” Kie mutters.

JJ clenches his fists at his side, but tries to keep his mind at ease. All he could imagine is your fathers fists, that swung at his side, hitting your delicate self.

He was only 3 feet away.

“Kids,” he nodded, his voice was scratchy and intimidating. He recognized the pogues as the ones Y/n spent some time with.

“Hello Sir,” Pope says.

“Where is my daughter? She talks to you lot doesn’t she?” Your father said, his time communicated that he was annoyed.

“She...um Y/n is probably inside. I haven’t seen her,” Kie guesses.

Your father grumbles at the I sure response and moves on. Turning around and leaving the group.

JJ heads over to Sarah, who is dancing with her little sister.

JJ clears his throat to get her attention, “Sarah Cameron,”

“Huh? Oh hey. JJ?”

“Kie said she saw you with Y/n, where did she go?” JJ asks.

“Umm...” Sarah trails off, “she went to go talk with Rafe,” Sarah says causally.

“What? Oh fuck,” JJ muttered quickly, he didn’t have time to scold Sarah. She probably thought highly of her brother, and Jj didn’t care that much to have an argument.

JJ continued to mutter profanities as his head darted in all directions. Looking for you. Finally, he concluded you were inside, the only place he hadn’t looked.

His pace picked up as he approaches the door.

\\\

His footsteps were heavy against the hardwood floors. Your father’s temper was only building when each attempt to find you was unsuccessful.

Until he heard it.

Your scream.

He hadn’t heard it in a while. You used to scream when your father first hit you, but after you realized that didn’t help much, you stopped.

But nonetheless, your father was right outside the bathroom. And you were inside.

Your father stormed inside the bathroom and followed the direction of your grunts and struggles.

It took him a moment to decide how to handle the scene infront of him.

Three boys in pastel suits stood around another two boys restraining you against the wall. You put up a good fight, they held your legs and arms down. And a final boy, who seemed to be the leader was clearly making unwanted advances on you.

Your dress was mangled, a sign that the boys were interested in fucking with you, a sexual way being the best to get on your nerves.

“Hey!” Your father shouted. You flinched at the familiarity. And you noticed the boys around you tense in nervousness.

The restraints released you and some of the boys scurried out of the room.

Rafe, on the other hand, thought he could talk his way out of it.

“Hello Sir, look I know this looks bad, but-“

“Get out of my sight you little bastards,” your father stated.

Rafe visibly gulped, “she-uh she was asking for it! Her and her little pogue friends have a fire arm in possession. My friends and I were just calling it in. Figured it would be on her!”

At a kegger a while back, JJ was stupid enough to pull the gun on Topper. You never thought about the consequences, you knew JJ saved John B’s life and had initially backed his decision.

Your father had his eyebrows knit in suspicion, “a gun?”

“Yes, we were just looking for it, for safety reasons,” Topper adds, his voice cracking slightly, but it wasn’t noticeable.

Your Dad approaches you and grabs your arm aggressively and pulls you towards him. Your shoulder collides with his chest as you both walk out of the room.

You know you should apologize, but your mouth is frozen shut. Your father now knows that you went behind his back and made friends, but not your friends ‘got you into trouble’. You were sure he would kill you.

“Where is the gun?” Your father demands to know. He has stopped in a secluded area near the bathrooms. You could tell he wanted to yell at you.

“They were lying-“ your voice was cut off with a slap. Your cheek stung and was surely tinting pink.

“Where is the damn gun,” he repeats.

You couldn’t exactly tell him JJ had it, you weren’t a snitch and you didn’t want him to hate JJ.

When you didn’t answer he scoffed and proceeded to choke you. With one hand wrapped easily around your neck.

“St-stop,” you pleaded.

“I know about the kids from the south side with a gun. Now that I know it was you, you tell me where that damn thing is before it causes more fucking problems!” he seethed, you felt his hot breath on your face. It smelled like beer. Drinking on the job could get him fired.

Next, a new figure appeared through your tears and shoved your fathers death grip away.

“Hey man! Get off of her!” You heard JJ shout.

You stood frozen again, your feet planted against the wall. You helplessly touched your neck tenderly.

Your father and JJ wouldn’t get in a full fight would they?

“Dad? Dad please, let’s just go. Please,” you tell him.

He shoves JJ back, fast, and sends a right jab punch to his eye. You gasp and bite your tongue, desperately wanting to aid to JJ.

“We’re leaving,” he grumbled. Grabbing your arm harshly and yanking it, “thanks to you whoring around, Mr. Maybank here could ruin your fucking life,” he spat.

He was referring to what he’d seen. JJ already knew about the abuse, and if it ever got out it could ruin your life. But you made him promise not to tell anyone.

“He won’t say anything,” you assure, humbly.

“Why ‘cause you jerked him off a few times? You can’t count on anyone! You hear? Now get home, you’re done being social for the day,”

You wanted to scream in his face. He can’t just assume you gave yourself up in sexual ways at every turn. JJ was loving, he was the best male figure in your life.

You wondered about what made your father this way. He had trust issues, patriarchal issues, and he made it clear that he’d rather have a son than a daughter. After your mother died, he was stuck with you. All your life you’ve been a burden.

You sulked, keeping your eyes on your toes. You wanted to look back at JJ. But even something as small as that, could earn something as big as a broken rib.

You decided to head out the back so you wouldn’t have to lie to Kie and Pope.

When you reached out for the door handle, you couldn’t stop your hand from shaking. You wanted to collapse, tears were at the brim.

“Can I help you?” Ward offers.

You take a defensive step back. You were standing at the door longer than you thought. And Ward had seen you struggling. He was still desperate to convince you he wasn’t a bad guy.

“Um-I...no, I got it. Thank you,” you answer. Sniffling a little, your mind scolding you at the lack of confidence you are presenting.

“Y/n, I know the two of us don’t exactly-“

“Ward. I can’t be talking to you. I’m sorry. But my dad would kill me. And I have to go,” you blurt.

Ward nods slowly and reaches out to pull the door open for you.

“Keep Rafe the hell away from me,” you tell him before leaving.

—the next day

You showed up almost an hour late to work. Not caring enough to make up an apology or excuse you quickly got to work.

After a while of bussing tables, you ran into Kie and JJ. You quickly turned the other direction to avoid them. But Pope and John B met you on the other side.

“What the hell happened? Y/n?” Pope asked, as if you owed it to them.

You didn’t feel like explaining, you wouldn’t be able to find the words.

You turned the other way again and started to walk quickly. But unfortunately, Kie and JJ were right there to stop you.

“Um, hey...” you trailed off. You looked around as your four friends cornered you.

But your heart practically stopped when you saw JJ. The region around his eye was decorated with a large purple splotch. It was difficult, but your eyes stung like you were about to cry.

You wished to step to him and caress his injury, tell him you’re sorry.

But you didn’t.

“Guys what the hell. I’m working,” you made an excuse.

“What happened at Midsummers?” John B repeated.

“Um..my dad and I got into an argument. It was fine though,” you lied. JJ got hurt, it wasn’t fine. If he hadn’t tried to help you, he would be fine.

“Y/n, Sarah said that Rafe-“

Something about the situation made you angry, you felt trapped.

“I handled it.” You deadpanned.

“What did that son of a bitch do?” JJ asked, he was just being protective. That was who he was.

Your thoughts went back to the gun. If JJ hadn’t exposed the fact, no one would know. And Rafe wouldn’t have gotten away with what he did to you.

You stepped towards JJ, not being intimidated by his height, you still got angry at him.

“What is wrong with you?!” You shouted. Adding a shove against JJ’s chest.

“Y/n-“

“No! Why did you do it?! I didn’t need you to save me!” You were referring to how JJ got that black eye, he jumped in for you. And got himself in it with your dad.

“What are you talking about? He was choking you,” JJ defended.

“You shouldn’t have done that,”

“I can live with him hating me, Y/n,” JJ says.

“Well I can’t!” you shouted. You nearly flung your hand over your mouth in surprise. You didn’t exactly know why you said that. And JJ didn’t either. Maybe it was the inner you telling him that you loved him. And couldn’t live with the fact that because you love him, your father would hurt you.

“Wh-“ JJ started, but quickly you cut him off.

“Whatever. I have to get back to work,” You mumbled. Moving past Kie and returning to the kitchen.

“Shit,” you heard Pope mutter.

You never wanted your home life to connect with the life you had with your friends. But here you were.

Around 20 minutes later, you stood alone on the dock. Watching the seagulls beg for food from the outdoor diners.

“I’m sorry,” you heard. It was JJ. He mirrored your actions of leaning on the dock.

You turned to face him. But looked away again when you noticed his dotted eye.

“Me too,” you responded.

“Um..Ward is John B’s legal gaurdian now,” JJ begins changing the conversation.

You give him a confused look and he chuckles.

“Yeah, uh, he offered. And it protects him from DCS. So we don’t have to worry about John B’s house. Just thought you should know,” JJ shrugs.

You looked in the opposite direction again. JJ was so sweet, every little thing he did. And you didn’t deserve it.

You should leave him alone, there are so many better girls he should be talking to. You’ll ruin him.

“I just wanna protect you. I don’t know why. It’s just like...every damn bone in my body draws me to you and if anyone touches you I...lose it,” JJ explains out of nowhere, like he could read your mind.

“It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before,” you say, quietly.

JJ grips the railing, “that’s the problem! I can’t-I should’ve...I can’t let you go through that too. Your his daughter. And I mean, it still sucks if a son goes through it. But how does he bring himself to hurt you?”

“You really what me to answer that?” You pause, “I remind him of my mom. I remind him of the event that caused everything to go wrong. If I wasn’t alive-“

JJ cuts you off abruptly, “No. You can’t think like that. If you weren’t alive I would die. I need you Y/n. I dont know how you do it. But you’re a survivor. And I love ya for it,” he smiles softly.

You swing your arms around his neck and he pulls you by the waist into his torso. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and hug him tight.

It all happens so fast. At first you were hugging JJ, enjoying the embrace of the teenage boy you loved.

But then you saw him. In his messy blond hair. Rafe was so close. Your hallucination messed with your mind when JJs fingers touched your waist.

Instantly you pushed JJ back. Muttering in fear.

“Please, wait wait wait...” you said quietly your break picking up.

“Hey, hold up. What’s wrong?” JJ asks, stepping closer.

“No!” You exlaimed. Pushing your hand up to stop him.

“Y/n, I’m not your dad,” JJ reached out.

“Get back. Please,” you whimpered.

“Y/n, come on, it’s me!” JJ was confused. He grabbed your face and moved you toward his eyes.

“Let go of me Rafe!” You shouted, you failed to see him. JJ was utterly sad, but now he knew you didn’t mistake him for your dad.

He knew something went down between you and Rafe. Now he just had to figure out how to get you to tell him.

Chapter 10

Taglist: @p0gue420 @kristinaxilliano @belledutchess @maebanks @omgpankow @kaylinfayezink @dolanfivsosxox @thesurfingsnail @obsessedweirdo @dudebroskiprn @milked-down-coffee @jjsthumbring @retr0babey @traumaflavouredjuulpod @write-from-the-heart @justcallmesams @popcrone818 @stellastars22 @runway-to-my-aid tumblr is a crack idiot and wont let me tag some of u babes. SO SORRY YALL🤍

Happy midsummers! (It was June 24)🏄 I was not anticipating this to be a series so I low key hate the title now...

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj x y/n #y/n outerbanks #obx x reader #outerbanks jj #jj maybank x female reader #obx abuse angst

145 notes · View notes