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#and definitely lets watch Vegas' CONSUME too
onstoryladders · 2 years
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Hi, I hope you're having a good week! Anyways it's been days (weeks even) and I wanted to tell you I can't stop thinking about your KP Soul Eater AU!! Porsche as a weapon? Amazing. Porchay as a second gun? Perfect. And Vegas as a weapon that nobody can use on his way to become kishin? Visionary. I'm truly obsessed 💖
Well, anon, you definitely made my week better with this ask duybrifbeyebey 💖
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Honestly the possibilities are endless!
KINNPORSCHE'S FIRST MEETING
Kinn is being chased, he asks Porsche for help, it all plays out in the same way, except Porsche is a weapon and when he starts shooting people left and right with his wavelength, Kinn is like “Wait you're a weapon? I'm a meister!”
So Porsche turns into a gun and Kinn uses him to get himself out of trouble, Porsche steals Kinn's watch, they go their separate ways. But then they meet again and Kinn asks Porsche to become his weapon, they start training together, and... they suck. Their wavelengths are so out of sync that as soon as Kinn touches gun!Porsche he gets burned and starts cursing Porsche, who in turns says it's all his fault etc etc gxybrknfyeb
But then something like their little trip into the woods brings them closer, and they become a good team. Of course they fall in love, and of course when Tawan is back (Kinn's previous lover and weapon) once again they're not able to fight without hurting each other.
I LOVE THIS AU WITH ALL MY HEART
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VEGASPETE
Can you even imagine? Vegas cornering Pete against a wall, his finger turns into a blade, he slowly caresses Pete's throat... and Pete gulps, absolutely terrified, but in his head he's like well well well... mark me down as scared and horny... or Idk just mark me... just do something...
Tankhun sees Vegas’ soul and knows that he's on very thin ice. Pete can perceive it too, because of his own healing wavelength, and he's attracted to the darkness, he wants to understand it, to really see how deep it reaches.
He gets kidnapped like in the original story, they get closer because there's this pull that neither one can resist, but Pete can't spend his life in chains and in the end Vegas frees him. Pete runs away because he's scared of his own feelings.
THE FINAL SHOWDOWN 🔥
They meet again in the final battle, and Vegas is consumed by madness, but of course Pete manages to get through to him. They get attacked and Pete decides to defend Vegas, but Vegas needs to trust him and let himself be wielded or Pete won't be able to fight. Their wavelength are perfectly synchronized after everything they've been through, so they escape without getting hurt too badly.
That's the first time Vegas lets someone wield his weapon form.
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ALRIGHT I'LL STOP NOW BUT THIS WAS FUN
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loving-inkpressions · 3 years
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Waking Up In Vegas (#4)
A/N: Bosco’s perspective when they first met Jasmine in Vegas.
———
That fateful night.
They couldn’t keep their eyes off of the pretty blonde as soon as she had stepped into the Vegas club, all smiles, loose curls and long legs.
Bosco didn’t mean to be a creep. Really, they didn’t. But the moment they heard her laugh, saw the way she flicked at her friends when she teased them, they were enchanted. They loved how carefree she seemed, throwing her head back as she laughed with her friends.
In their world of rockstar fame, they always had to be careful with whatever they did. Every move had to be calculated, weighed and measured. Even their sarcastic personality was a carefully made construct of both their true self and their public persona.
Which was why Bosco couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Her lighthearted spirit felt infectious and Bosco was sure that if they went close to her, she’d radiate nothing but sunshine and warmth.
Something that they so desperately needed in their own lonely and cold world.
Being able to do what they loved was good and all, but what they never expected was how lonely it would be. How cold it was at the top when there were only a handful of people that they could trust, especially with their heart.
They watched as the girl waved at her friends when they moved off to the bar, another tall leggy blonde herding a shorter one, before moving on to the dance floor. Bosco felt a tug inside, felt the need to move closer to her.
Something was calling them to her, making them want to protect her and make sure no one would hurt her. They could see the lecherous eyes already looking at her, people leering at the clearly inebriated girl as she moved clumsily to the middle of the dance floor.
For once, Bosco didn’t care to think things through carefully and let their body move on its own accord towards her, ignoring the calls of her entourage until they felt a familiar hand on their wrist.
“Bosco.”
They turned to see Daya looking at them, her fingers around their wrist.
“I’m just going to the dance floor.” They explained to their manager and friend. One of their only real friends, really.
Daya had fixed Bosco with a knowing look. “I might have actually believed that if I hadn’t seen you staring at the blonde ever since she came in.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Bosco had brushed her off, pulling their wrist free from her grasp. “Come on, Daya. We’re here to celebrate the kick off of my album, right? I’m just going to have some fun.”
“I can get someone to bring her here instead-”
“No.” Bosco replied firmly. “There’s no need.” And before Daya could argue further, they slipped away, towards the pretty girl that had already captivated them.
The strobe lights flickered overhead, highlighting the not so subtle curves of the blonde as she danced, arms above her head, body moving to the music. Bosco was just about an arms length away when she seemed to trip over her own two feet, stumbling their way and instinctively, Bosco caught her.
They had been right, she was warm, and the smile she had given them when she looked up at Bosco was even warmer, as bright as the sun.
“Hi there, you’re pretty.” She giggled, letting Bosco help steady her as she straightened up, her voice lilting from all the alcohol that she had already consumed.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not my name.” They teased. “You okay there?”
“I definitely am now that you’re here.”
Bosco felt themselves go a little numb at that.
Of course. Of fucking course she would know who they were. Of course she’d be happy to meet the famous rock star, and not just them. Not just Bosco. They swallowed down their bitterness just as the girl reached out and poked them in the cheek.
“No frowning here, you’re too pretty for that. Wait a minute, do I know you?” She narrowed her eyes, mouth screwed up in thought. “Did you teach me in school? You look like you’d be a teacher or something. You know, one of those really cool badass teachers that would secretly smoke at the bleachers with their students. You totally have that vibe.”
They stared hard at her, brain short circuiting at that before restarting as they barked out a laugh.
“I don’t think I’m that much older than you, princess.”
“I have a name.” She had pouted, before trying to move out of their arms, but Bosco wound their arms around her a little tighter instead.
“What’s your name then?”
“Jasmine.”
“I stand by what I said, you’re definitely a princess.” Bosco chuckled as they began to sway to the music, guiding Jasmine’s body with their own, their hands now on the curve of her hips.
Jasmine had pouted, but let Bosco lead her, her own hands shifting to rest on their shoulders.
“Fine, then what’s your name?”
Bosco contemplated for a moment on whether to give her a false name, not wanting to give up their identity, but decided against it.
“Bosco.”
“Bosco, huh? That’s different. Unique.” She’d said, pausing for a moment as she let their name roll around in her mouth. Bosco felt their heart clench a little, hoping that she wouldn’t remember anything or connect the dots.
“I like it.” Jasmine flashed a bright grin. “It’s very you.”
Bosco smiled, feeling their heart lighten immediately as they basked in the sunshine that was Jasmine’s smile.
Something told them that letting this girl go would be a very big mistake.
Two months later.
Jasmine grumbled and shifted under the covers, blissfully unaware of the person that she was wedded to watching her as they absent-mindedly played with the ends of her blonde hair.
People would say that Bosco marrying Jasmine within hours of meeting her was the biggest mistake of their life, but they were wrong. Bosco saw it for what it was.
It was fate.
They coiled her blonde hair around their fingers, marvelling once more at how soft it felt.
Every single day that they had spent with Jasmine was like a breath of fresh air, and as selfish as it was, they didn’t want to let her go. Had known that they wanted to spend the rest of their life with her the moment that they’d met, and when the opportunity presented itself to tie her to them, Bosco couldn’t resist.
She had been adorable, giggling and chattering excitedly all the way to the altar, their fingers tangled together as they stood before Elvis as they said their vows.
And Bosco had meant them, each and every word. They were going to win her heart one way or another, show her how much they could love her before their time was up.
“For better, for worse, princess.” They whispered, pressing a kiss to Jasmine’s locks, before shifting to hold her in their arms.
“Forever and always.”
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goldentournesol · 4 years
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Twin Flames
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(Spencer Reid x Reader)
The one where Reader deals with the aftermath of Maeve while she struggles with her intense feelings for Spencer.
Length: 4.3k
A/N: lots of angst...like lots of it. Big thanks to @hopefulfangirl24​ for requesting. i totally broke my own heart writing this. ENJOY!
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Sometimes the hardest part isn't letting go, it's starting over. -Nicole Sobon
Starting over.
What did starting over even look like for Spencer? Will the dread and guilt ever stop washing over him as the sun melts into the horizon and the moon takes its place? 
It was starting to feel like he could never move on from the pain of losing Maeve. Day and night, he stared at the four walls of his apartment wondering what could have been if he had said something different. He wondered if the outcome would be the same. He wondered whether fate had ever been kind to him in at least one of the infinite universes that might exist, giving him the ending he so desperately wanted. After so many years, Spencer finally allowed himself to be brave enough to fall in love and oh how he wished he regretted it, but falling in love was anything but regrettable. Falling in love meant being vulnerable, and he knew that, but he didn’t know just how much it would hurt. The purity of Spencer’s soul allowed him to love so deeply, so intensely, and with all his heart which made it all the more easy to hurt so deeply and so intensely.
He yearned to become unfamiliar with the feeling of heaviness. Everything was so heavy, his heart, his stomach, his tears. Each of them weighing on him like anvils that he couldn’t lift no matter how hard he tried. In theory, he knew the anvils could be lifted with help from others, but that was too much of a strenuous task to tackle right now. He’ll handle the anvils all on his own for now. 
The world seemed eerily desolate and Spencer couldn’t seem to remember what it looked like before it turned into the dull, washed out version he became acquainted with now. Penelope had tried to add some color back into his life, but her actions were futile against the monstrosity of grief. The entire team had tried to reach out and while he appreciated the gestures, he had no capacity for anything other than the agony that consumed him. 
Derek left what seemed like a thousand messages on his phone, but he still checked to see who called every time his phone rang. Which is exactly why it was unprecedented to see a different name pop up at the sound of his ringtone in the middle of the day. A name which belonged to a person he’d held very dear for so long. They haven’t spoken in months, maybe a year and if Spencer’s mind wasn’t currently overcrowded with thoughts, he’d definitely be able to recall the exact amount of time between speaking to her last and now. Why is she calling him now? What if something was wrong? Did she know about what happened? No, how would she find out? His curiosity had possessed his body, making him answer the call.
“Y/N?” He croaked, clearing his throat, having not used his voice in days.
“Spencer! How’s my favorite genius doing? I didn’t know if you’d changed your number or something, but I’d just thought I’d call anyway! Are you at work? Sorry, I can call you back later if-” She shouted excitedly into the phone, but Spencer was quick to end her worries.
“No, no. I’m not at work.” Spencer said curtly.
“Oh, is everything alright?” She asked, concerned. She could tell by the tone of his voice that something was not right.
“Did Garcia put you up to this?” Spencer deflected defensively. 
He knew Garcia was aware that Y/N was the only person he’d never turn away from. Not after all they’d been through. She was the one person who never left his side. She and Spencer were undeniably connected by some sort of un-explainable, otherworldly force. Call them soulmates, twin flames, mirror souls--whatever. That was what they were. It didn’t matter to them if they were romantically involved or not, the connection between them had surpassed the simple stages of romance. Spencer often found himself wondering what could have been if he’d never left Vegas. If he’d never left her.
“Garcia? The tech analyst? No, why? Spencer, did something happen?” She recalled meeting the eccentric woman when she visited Spencer in Quantico a few years back. 
Spencer’s brow furrowed and his mouth spoke before his brain could tell it not to, “Then why are you calling me?” He spat impatiently, pinching the bridge of his nose, already wishing he didn’t have to prolong the conversation.
Y/N was taken aback through the phone at his retort but her heart ached for him, knowing that something dreadful must have happened for him to act so out of character, but she took the phone off her ear to check if she had dialed the correct number anyway. She had.
“I just wanted to catch up with you. Is this about not calling you recently? I’m sorry, Spencer, I got caught up with work and I moved into a new apartment, and things have just been really hectic lately. Are you okay?” She worried through the phone and Spencer could practically feel her disquietude seeping from the speaker.
“So, you really don’t know…?” Spencer trailed off, already feeling the guilt bubble up in his chest, still avoiding the question. He didn’t even know what okay meant anymore.
“Know what, Spence? Oh God, is Diana okay?!” She shrieked, her mind snapping to the worst case scenario.
Her genuine reaction had made Spencer ease the frown that had been permanently etched onto his features for days. It wasn’t a smile yet, but it was something. She and his mother had always shared a bond that he never really understood, even as an adult. That was how compassionate she was, she was able to instantly connect with people and she would do it so well. It used to baffle Spencer when they were children, but perhaps that’s what drew her to him. Their souls were tied together with an invisible string.
She heard him release a huff and some shuffling was heard from his side, “My mom is fine.”
She let out a sigh of relief, “So, what’s going on?”
He paused, debating whether or not to tell her. She sighed again, knowing it must have been something terrible if he wasn’t willing to talk about it.
“Spencer?” She called softly when he fell silent. She was already browsing for plane tickets from Las Vegas to DC.
“I...I couldn’t do it, Y/N. I couldn’t save her.” He sniffled into the phone and her heart had practically escaped from its place in her chest and landed in the pits of her stomach. Her arms and shoulders were immediately overtaken with chills. She didn’t know who he was referring to, but the dread set in quicker than she imagined. She could tell this was bad, even for Spencer and his line of work. Whatever happened had ripped him to shreds and she was not about to sit idly in Vegas.
Two days later, she struggled to haul a small suitcase out of the cab she took from the airport to Spencer’s apartment complex. The flight was way more exhausting than it should have been. She placed the suitcase on the ground with a huff and spotted two blonde women descending from the stairs that led to Spencer’s apartment as she neared the entrance. She quickly recognized them as Spencer’s beloved coworkers, Garcia and JJ. Garcia’s eyes found hers and let out a surprised gasp.
“Hey, I know you! You’re Spencer’s friend--from Vegas! Y/N, right?” Garcia announced as Y/N entered the building, stopping right before the stairs.
“Hi, Penelope.” Y/N said expectantly with a playful smile. Garcia was pleasantly surprised when she remembered who she was and pulled her into a warm embrace.
“Hi, JJ.” she smiled as she gave her a hug, “Any luck with Spencer?”
The two women shared a look and sighed deeply.
“No, he hasn’t even spoken to us through the door.” JJ said with a heavy heart before she continued, “How did you know? Did he call you?”
Y/N shook her head, “No, I called him.”
“And he picked up?!” Garcia exclaimed, eliciting a half-laugh from Y/N.
“Yeah, he did. I don’t know how it happened, I just, you know when you get a feeling like in the pit of your stomach? It felt like he needed me all of a sudden--sorry, that sounds so weird.” She apologized, shaking her head slightly.
“No, it’s okay. Maybe you can get through to him. We’re all really worried about him.” JJ explained and Y/N nodded.
“I still don’t really know what happened, was it...that bad?” Y/N felt silly for asking. The two shared another look. A look that held so much shared trauma and empathy for their friend. Y/N’s heart sank as she let out a shuddered breath at their silent reaction. She glanced up at the stairs helplessly, wondering if she was strong enough to help him through the turmoil he’s experiencing.
“He’s refused to see anyone for the past two weeks, please let us know if anything changes.” Garcia pleaded and they proceeded to exchange numbers to keep in touch. Y/N nodded and smiled gratefully at them before making her way up the stairs and facing Spencer’s door. 
She took a deep breath before knocking. Spencer held back a groan as he dropped his copy of The Narrative of John Smith into his lap, bringing his hands to his face in an act of exhaustion. He wanted to scream at them to leave him alone, but he simply didn’t have the energy to do so. He’d settle on ignoring them for now. The knocking carried on, but it was paired with a gentle voice that Spencer knew all too well. JJ and Garcia watched from the bottom of the steps, bouncing with anticipation.
“Spencer? It’s Y/N. Can you please open up?” She called through the wooden door. 
Spencer froze in his place. Was he finally asleep and dreaming? Did she really come all this way for him or was he imagining it? Was fate finally giving him a taste of kindness? A kindness he so desperately wished for? He suddenly retreated into the darkest corner of his mind, the dark place which never failed to remind him on an hourly basis just how unworthy of love he really was. Not hers, not Maeve’s, not anyone’s. His thoughts were interrupted yet again by another insistent knock. It sounded too clear to be a figment of his imagination. He forced himself up from his place on the couch and made his way to the door. She heard shuffling from the other side and bit her lip. JJ and Garcia made a move to leave before they heard the sound of the door opening. They shared an excited look, not even caring that they were almost half an hour late to work at this point.
Spencer’s sullen eyes found her bright ones immediately. She gave him a soft smile and he swore the world around him withered away slightly.
“Hey, genius.” She spoke with her signature tenderness and Spencer didn’t hesitate to engulf her in a long awaited embrace. She let out a breath at the sudden force but welcomed him into her arms anyway. JJ and Garcia grinned at each other, a newfound wave of relief hitting the both of them. They left for work, grins of relief never leaving their faces.
“You’re....you’re here? You’re really here?” Spencer mumbled as he stuffed his face into her neck, her presence filling him with a sense of familiarity, one he so hopelessly craved.
She nodded into his shoulder, squeezing him impossibly tighter, “Yeah, Spence, I’m right here.” 
She felt his chest expand against hers and he released a deep, heavy sigh. He suddenly felt a sense of security wash over him, his arms tightened around her waist, lifting her off the ground slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to relish in her warm embrace for just a few moments longer. Relief flooded his chest, and he felt like he could breathe again. He was inexplicably glad that the first thing he could breathe in again was the smell of her perfume. He vouched to never allow himself to forget the level of comfort she brought again. Spencer momentarily forgot about his sorrows in her arms, but the agony was far too unforgiving and the moment of bliss didn’t last. His chest clenched again as he set her down and pulled away from her.
“Y-you didn’t have to come all the way out here.” He frowned, struggling to hold himself together in front of her.
“Stop that, you know I’d drop everything in a heartbeat for you.” She attempted to smile despite her eyes welling up with tears at the sight of his suffering. He nodded and they both stepped into his apartment, her dragging her suitcase in with her.
“You came from the airport?” He said with a small voice as he saw her pull the bag in. He had expected her to stop by whichever hotel she booked a room at first.
“Yeah, I came as soon as I landed. I needed to see you first.” She said, pulling him to his couch by the hand, careful not to step on any of the books that lay on the floor.
“Do you…” he paused, swallowing his tears, “do you have to stay at the hotel?”
“No, Spence, I don’t have to. I can stay here if you want.” She gently stroked her thumb across his knuckles.
“Please? Please...stay?” His voice cracked and suddenly his face scrunched up in an attempt to suppress a sob, but to no avail. 
A heartbreaking sob escaped from his lips and she wrapped herself around him without a second thought. Cooing at him lovingly and rubbing his back, reminding him every so often that she was right there. Once the floodgates had opened, they had no idea when they would stop. She held his shaking body tightly to hers as if she could somehow absorb some of the pain he felt and tried not to let any of her own tears fall onto him. It broke her heart to see him so saddened. 
She pressed kisses to the side of his head as he calmed down, threading her fingers through his messy, tangled hair. Spencer’s ear was now resting against her heartbeat, he focused on the steady sound and he felt his eyes droop with the exhaustion of days without sleep. She smiled slightly and soon fell asleep, making up for the sleep she missed on the flight over.
Hours later, they awoke and moved around the apartment in silence. Or rather she moved in silence while he stayed on the couch, looking for anything to drown out his sorrows. She focused on making him a balanced breakfast, despite the fact that it was almost 3 pm. 
“Spencer? Come eat. I made coffee, too.” She called out, already eating off her plate. She hoped she wouldn’t have to physically drag him off the couch. She smiled when she heard him drag his feet all the way to the kitchen. They ate together in silence, although Spencer was thankful for the warm food.
“Do you know why I joined the FBI?” He asked after a while. She stared at him curiously and he continued, “I joined the FBI to protect people. That’s the whole point of the job. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to save her, and I failed. I failed, Y/N. What’s the point of me being an FBI agent if I can’t even protect the ones I love?” He ranted as he looked at her for answers.
“What is the point of loving anyone if I can’t protect them?” He frowned, tears pooling on the inside of his eyes. She frowned in response, clutching the cup of coffee tight between her hands.
“Do you want to start from the beginning?” She offered and he quickly realized she had no idea who he was talking about.
“Her name is...was Maeve. She was the geneticist who helped me get rid of my migraines. I sent her my brain scan and she was the only one who actually helped. I never actually met her, though, all our communication happened through payphones or letters because she had a stalker. She didn’t know who they were, just that they were dangerous. I’d call her every Sunday and we’d just...talk. We sent letters under pseudonyms. It was nice. It was more than nice, actually. It was the first time I ever felt appreciated for who I am, I didn’t have to worry about her judging the way I looked. I-I fell in love with her before I even saw her. We planned a date, finally, but I sent her home because I thought I saw her stalker. So stupid. I was so stupid. I was so paranoid, Y/N. Good things just don’t happen to Spencer Reid, I should have known.” He paused, shaking his head and holding back tears.
“Anyway, she was abducted by her stalker. We thought it was her fiance at first, but it wasn’t. It was his girlfriend...Diane.” He shuddered as the name left his lips. “She was a grad student at the university Maeve taught at and she rejected her thesis. Can you believe that? I lost the one good thing I had over a thesis?” He laughed bitterly, tears streaming down his face. It was deeper than that, but he didn’t care to explain. 
“I only got 2,412 hours of communication with her. Even though I remember every word, it’ll never be enough.” He aggressively wiped at his cheeks. “I told Diane I’d die for her...for Maeve. I meant it, too. I would have died for her!” He slammed a frustrated hand on the table, shaking the tableware. 
“Apparently that was the worst possible thing to say because it set her off. She...she shot herself in the head and the bullet...the b-bullet--” He cut himself off with a sob, unable to finish the sentence, the grief hitting him like it was a tsunami and he was an unsuspecting beach town.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She repeated as she rushed to crouch down in front of him, taking both his hands. She kissed his knuckles before wiping her own tears. 
What kind of world did they live in where they had to worry about tragedies like this? She suddenly had a brewing hatred for the world around her. How could it let something so terrible happen to someone so good. Spencer Reid was good, and he deserves nothing but good things in his life. As much as the story pained her, she couldn’t begin to imagine the pain he was feeling. 
“I know you blame yourself, Spence. It’s gonna be hard not to at first. But you have to understand that none of this is your fault. You didn’t pull that trigger. She did. I’m so sorry, Spence. I’m so, so sorry. This should have never happened to you, or to anyone. The pain is gonna suck, grief is not easy, but you don’t have to go through it alone. You know that right?” She spoke softly, trying as hard as she could to keep her voice steady for him. He looked at her and saw the truth in her eyes. He nodded ever so slightly and sniffled.
“I know.” He squeezed her hands once and she smiled reassuringly. Her smile made him feel a little bit better. He didn’t want the team’s help, they’d all just treat him like a wounded puppy. She was so unconditionally compassionate and loving, he never wanted to stray far from her again. She got up from her crouched position and pulled him to stand with her. She wrapped her arms around his back and leaned into his chest. He squeezed her tighter, tears soaking into her shirt once again. “Thank you.” He muttered. She nodded. “How long are you staying?” His heart clenched, not wanting to see her go.
“I’ll be here for as long as you need, love.” She rubbed circles across his back. He pulled away to face her.
“What about your job?” He frowned, wiping a hand over his face.
“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got lots of vacation days saved up.” She reassured, “Besides, I’d rather be here with you than at that stupid job anyway.” She rolled her eyes, thinking of her impossible boss. Spencer suppressed a smile.
“Wait, you’re still working for--”
“Yup, same asshole.” She laughed and Spencer smiled. 
He smiled! 
He remembered all the times she would complain about her horrible boss over the phone.
“So, you said you moved?” Spencer asked, leading her back to the couch.
“Yeah, I really hated my old apartment.” Spencer nodded, “I’m really sorry for not calling you. I missed you so much and I thought about you practically every day...it’s just, you know, it’s easy to get caught up in all the little things.” She apologized, feeling guilty.
“It’s just as much my fault, I haven’t called either. And...I missed you too.” Spencer said.
“It’s alright, we’ve both been busy.” She smiled at him.
“You would have loved her.” Spencer trailed off, frowning. She let out a sigh.
“I’m sure I would have, Spence.” She mirrored his frown.
“She reminded me of you in a lot of ways now that I think about it. She was kind and compassionate. She was funny, she liked to make puns and she was good with words.” He reminisced sadly. All she could do was smile halfheartedly. On one hand, she was glad he got to experience such a love, but on the other, she found herself fighting off a feeling of jealousy.
“I never thought I’d get over you.” He admitted, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding her gaze, yet he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Spencer had already bared his soul to her, what was this one confession in the grand scheme of things?
“What?” She whispered, completely caught off guard. He glanced at her to see her shocked face.
“What? Don’t act like you didn’t know.” He scoffed lightly. He was right, she always suspected his feelings for her but she never wanted to entertain the idea of it in case she was wrong. She’d been hurt so many times that she didn’t even want to think about being hurt by the one person she’d loved more than anyone else.
She loved Spencer. She knew that. There was no doubt in her mind. They were twin flames. They danced around each other and separated, but never burnt out.
“In fact, I don’t think I could ever get over you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.” He spoke quietly. “You don’t have to say anything right now, I’m not expecting you to. I think I’m so upset over Maeve because, of course, I loved her, but in so many ways she reminded me of you. And if I can’t protect her, then I can’t protect you.” 
“I, um, I don’t know what to say.” She stammered. She knew he was overwhelmed with emotion so she tried not to take his words too literally. But the confession hit her like a truck. She didn’t know what to do. He’s mourning the loss of his girlfriend, it would be completely selfish for her to take advantage of his feelings. It’s not like he was asking anything of her, he was just hanging it all out to dry. He was so vulnerable right now, she couldn’t act upon her own feelings. They both knew that.
She felt her throat run dry at all the words she wanted to say, but she settled on, “We should talk about this later, Spence.” 
He gave her a half smile and nodded, the numbness setting in.
The next few days blurred into each other. They consisted of Y/N cleaning up around the apartment, making food, doing laundry. Spencer was doing his best to help her out, but he found too much comfort inside the walls he built for himself. She didn’t push him to do anything he didn’t want to do. She’d convinced him to leave the house twice, both times going for a walk in the sunlight. She made sure he brushed his hair and shaved his face. Honestly without her, he’d probably still be stuck in his spot on the couch. She updated his coworkers daily, letting them know that he was doing better. She even held him at night when he cried for the love that was ripped too soon from him. 
“Y/N?” Spencer called one morning as he walked in on her in the kitchen.
“Yeah?” She turned away from the coffee machine to face him. She still looked as beautiful  as ever even under the light coming from his dodgy kitchen window.
“I just want to thank you. For all you’ve done for me. It couldn’t have been easy for you.” He smiled shyly. She smiled brightly at him, moving closer to wrap her arms around him tightly.
“You don’t have to thank me. You would have done the same for me.” She looked up at him and into his honey colored eyes. The eyes that have shed buckets worth of tears in the past few days.
“Yeah, I would have.” He joked, finally feeling like himself again, resting his hands on her waist. “I meant what I said, by the way.”
She nodded, “I know. But we’re not in any rush, are we? I’d wait for you forever if I had to, Spencer Reid.”
And he wouldn’t have to worry, because twin flames always find each other.
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jxtina-86 · 3 years
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Are You With Me?
It's been almost a year since Vegas, since Seth and Shiv agreed that it was nothing more. Seth is having second thoughts, but does Shiv feel the same way? SethRollins/Siobhan See here for the rest of the series/order to read.
Warning: Smut/Language
Rating: MA
I run my finger around the rim of my glass, leaning against the bar, watching the action unfold in the mirror behind the optics. I can't seem to take my eyes off her. Ever since I saw her yesterday, I knew I was doomed. Standing there in the hotel lobby, I was in the middle of checking in when I happened to look up and there she was.
It's been almost a year since Vegas. There's been a handful of texts back and forth, always keeping to safe topics that steer clear of anything that happened between us. But every time, I've had an urge to say something more, to make a move or at least drop a very heavy hint that perhaps I'm not okay with this situation. Maybe I was once. I definitely was on board with the idea back then, when we stood in the shower and bluntly expressed a mutual feeling of disdain for long-distance relationships.
I don't know what changed. For me at least. I was quite happily screwing around when the mood took me. And there was a short-lived relationship with a girl on the roster, but I didn't have the energy to make it last. That and the fact that my mind kept drifting elsewhere. To a certain little redhead. I couldn't stop thinking about her, she was always there at the back of my mind, stealing moments with me in my daydreams.
And it wasn't like I could pretend that I'd built her up into this impossible beauty that was only a faint reflection of reality. No, I had her on my fucking Instagram, her infrequent posts a jarring reminder of that night and, more importantly, of her. I knew I was in too deep when I kept refreshing the feed during the bachelorette weekend, my hands going clammy when she popped up in a bikini, leaning forward towards the camera, her breasts squished together and creating a dark valley between them.
I knew then I was completely and utterly screwed. There was no way to prepare mentally to see her again. When I saw her in the lobby, she couldn't look more perfect. She was wearing denim cut-offs, showing off those legs of hers that I vividly remember having wrapped around my waist. A loose shirt, that fell off one shoulder and revealed only bare skin. Her hand ran through her hair, which was longer than I remembered, bangles jingling on her wrist as she walked past the reception desk. I knew I was staring, knew that I should have looked away, but I couldn't. I was fucking hypnotised.
And then she was meeting my eye, smiling, coming towards me.
“Hey, Rollins.”
Her voice was just as I remembered, her breath on my neck as she gave me a friendly hug. But before I could even get past my own 'hi', her phone buzzed and she was frowning and apologising and disappearing to run an errand for Lex. At the rehearsal dinner, she was opposite me at the table, but even then the conversation was brief and casual. But she caught my eye more than once, as the guy to her left rambled aimlessly, desperate to impress. I couldn't help but let the jealously rise inside me when he touched her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. I could feel my jaw clenching, my fist tightening under the table.
I had to let go of the tension. Back in my room, I took the longest, coldest shower. But it still didn't help and I jerked off to the thought of her. I would say that it helped, but it was the complete opposite. I went to bed and there she was, weaving her way through my mind. It's fucking all-consuming and the worst part? I have no idea why.
I mean, I've always thought she was hot. No doubt about it. But it was only in Vegas that I felt like I uncovered a little bit more of her. She's funny, a mix of goofy and quick-wits. I like the way her mind works, how up-front she is, how she was both vulnerable and assertive at the same time, taking what she wanted but allowing me that right as well. She's got guts too like she gets off on taking chances. And I can relate to that.
But no fucking way was this supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to think about her in that way again. We'd made a decision to be friends. No benefits, no strings attached, a silent agreement to never talk about Vegas again. Every conversation has neatly side-stepped it and now I'm on the verge of breaking that agreement, of betraying both of us. All because I can't stop thinking about her.
I raise my glass and take a long drink. The barman approaches and I tap my glass with my finger and watch the liquor re-fill it. Returning my gaze to the mirror, I watch as Shiv's body sways alongside Lex, the thin strap of her dress sliding from her shoulder for a second before she moves it back into position. She sweeps her hair over the same shoulder, her fingers twisting through thick strands as she laughs.
It appears that my attempts at subtly didn't quite hit the mark. Dean was thoroughly enjoying making suggestive winks and nods whilst the girls finished prepping to the point where Lex told us to piss off. But I could have sworn that she was doing the same to Shiv throughout. And then there was the aisle walk, Shiv's arm linked through mine, the heat of her skin burning through my shirt. I fought so hard to keep my eyes ahead, but I was fighting a losing battle and there was a brief moment where I looked down and took in the view beside me.
And then there was a few moments ago. Her arm brushing against mine as we watched Roman and Lex on the dance floor. Each touch was fleeting, accidental. She wasn't looking at me, her eyes were solely on her best friend and new husband, it was completely without cause, but it happened. At one point, it felt like her whole body was pressed against my side, the pressure intense and threatening to burst. And then she rushed forward with everyone else and my side was cold once again.
So I made my way here, to the bar, away from the crowd, away from her. But still, my eyes are drawn to her through the mirror. This is ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. I'm a grown fucking man, for Christ's sake. I am not some teenage horn dog with a crush. I am not the kind of guy who watches women from afar and spends their evenings jerking off rather than taking a chance. I need to take a chance.
I have to take a chance.
But I'm rooted to the spot, unable to move, the glass clutched tightly in my hand as if holding me frozen as the question I've been asking myself time and time again starts to worm its way through my mind once again.
What the hell do I say to her?
How do I even begin to explain that maybe, just maybe I kind of want to give this a shot?
Screw schedules and never seeing each other. I'd rather live with the possibility of seeing her once a week if I'm lucky, than once a year at some Reigns get-together. I'd rather have her in my life for however long we manage than to turn up one year and see her with another man. Right now, that thought is killing me.
But her words from that morning keeping ringing through my brain as well.
“I just can't do the long-distance thing. And my life is well and truly set up and I'm not going to change that for a guy. You're on the road 300 days a year and if I'm going to have a relationship, I want more than a few days here and there.”
I have no idea what I can do to convince her to change her mind, to convince her that the handful of days she does get me will the best damn days of the year for both of us. I at least want to convince her to give it a second thought.
Coming home to an empty apartment isn't fun. My place isn't big but it sure feels that way when there's only me rattling around it. I remember Roman feeling the same way about his house before he met Lex. And then he was spending more time at hers than his own home until she relocated. Now he's home whenever he has the chance, a big fucking grin on his face when he returns to the road. The only emotion I feel on the road is a relief that I'm not alone.
“Knew I'd find you here.”
I turn to my left and meet Dean's ever so perceptive gaze.
“What's up?” I place my empty glass back on the bar and shake my head when the barman approaches.
“Nothing, bro. Just amused to see you still leering at Shiv. Give the girl a break, man.”
“Funny.”
He rolls his eyes. “Lighten up. Sure you don't want another?”
I shake my head again, but he orders me one anyway and my glass is re-filled much to my protest.
“So,” Dean starts after a long pause. “You gonna talk to her?”
“Huh?”
“Shiv. Look, man, I thought it was funny at first. But seriously, you've been staring at her all fucking day and evening. You got this real pensive look going on as well like you're over-thinking whatever it is you're thinking about. And trust me, it ain't a good look on you.” He grins, but I don't return the gesture.
“We've spoken.”
“Small talk doesn't count. There's something else going on. Plenty of other hot talent in this room and yet you only got eyes for her. Got enough of that shit going on with Reigns and Lex, don't tell me I'm gonna lose my wing-man tonight as well.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “Wing-man? Bullshit, bro. When have you ever needed a wingman?”
Dean taps his chin and then grins. “Ah, you're right. Never did, never will. But I just like to know you're ready to step up if needed. So are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you good to go, wingman?”
I don't reply and he grins. “Thought so.”
“Whatever.”
“Just make your damn move, Rollins. Chicks and weddings. What you got to lose?”
My integrity? Any ounce of self-respect when I fucking throw myself at a woman who will no doubt just brush me off as drunk and inappropriate?
Fuck it.
I raise the glass to my mouth and down it in one, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.
“That's what I'm talking about,” Dean grins, clapping a hand to my shoulder. I shrug his hand away and back away from the bar, his chuckling ringing in my ears as I turn and head towards the dance floor.
But I don't get even close. I'm too busy trying to find Shiv in the crowd, too pre-occupied with how to form sentences, too out of it to notice–
“Hey, watch it, Rollins!”
I blink and look to my right and come face to face with Shiv, her drink sloshing against the edge of the glass as she comes very close to colliding with me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, my lips feeling thick and heavy, my tongue too large for my mouth.
She raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip. “No harm done. What's up? You disappeared, I was wondering where you were.”
“I was at the bar.”
“Drinking alone at a wedding? How cliché.” Her eyes tease me over the rim of the glass as she takes another sip. “I thought I was going to be treated to you busting some moves on the dance floor.”
“Not a chance.”
“You disappoint me, Rollins.”
I offer her a weak smile and watch as her gaze moves away from me.
Now or never.
“Look, can we talk?”
Her eyes snap back to me. “Talk? What about?”
I avoid her question. “Let's just go outside, get some air.”
She eyes me suspiciously, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth for a second. “Sure.”
I lead the way, weaving through tables and chairs towards the veranda that leads down onto the beach. The air feels fresh and cool, a soft breeze plucking at my shirt and at the hem of Shiv's dress as we make our way onto the sand.
“So,” she prompts. “You wanted to talk.”
“Yeah.”
“What about?”
Us, I want to say. But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
“C'mon, Rollins. I'm not a mind-reader.” There's a hint of laughter in her voice, but when I glance to meet her eyes, her expression is full of anything but amusement.
“I... You look good, Siobhan.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“How you been?”
“Good. Look, if all you wanted to do was ask me how I was, then why'd you need to come outside for that? What you not telling me, Rollins?”
“Sure have missed your bluntness,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
We trudge on in silence, the only break being the sound of the waves and the ice clinking in Shiv's glass.
“I really should go back in–” Shiv starts, but I interrupt her before she can finish.
“Do you still feel the same way?”
She pauses and I turn to meet her gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“Vegas. The morning after. You said you didn't do long-distance.”
Her body visibly tenses. “If I recall,” her voice is sharp. “You felt the same way.”
“Can't I change my mind?”
She lets out a long sigh, a hand raising to rub her forehead. “You're fucking with me.”
I want to laugh. Not only could she be further from the truth, but her reaction is almost verbatim to how I imagined it.
“Why did you say that?” she murmurs. “Why did you have to bring that up? Why couldn't you just leave it as it was, huh?”
“Shiv–”
“Seriously, what was wrong with just letting it slide? What the fuck is wrong with you? I mean, a year or so ago, you looked so fucking relieved when I told you I didn't want anything more than that night. And I gave you my number and kept in touch on the basis that we were just friends. Because that's what I thought you wanted as well. But if that was a fucking ploy then–”
“It wasn't,” I interrupt. “I didn't want anything more. Not then anyway. But–”
“No, no buts. No damn buts allowed, Rollins.” She raises a hand in warning, pressing it to my shoulder and pushing me back.
“I can't stop thinking about you.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and heated. Shiv's hand is still on my shoulder, her mouth hanging slightly open as she takes in my frank and honest statement.
“No,” she eventually mutters. “Fuck, Rollins. This isn't happening. Not now, not ever.”
“Why?”
“Because it wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to think about me and I sure as hell wasn't supposed to think about you.”
Wasn't supposed to think about you. Her words make my head spin.
It's almost in slow-motion that I watch the realisation dawn on Shiv's face as she lifts her hand away from my shoulder and clamps it over her mouth as if trying to cram the words back from where they came from.
“You been thinking about me?” I venture, seeking the confirmation I so desperately want.
“No.” She frowns at her feet, dragging her toes through the sand. “Maybe.”
I can feel a cocky grin starting to tug at my lips and I fight to keep it at bay. “What you been thinking about, Siobhan?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Calling you what?”
“My full name.”
“Why?”
She looks up at me. “Because it's not helping.”
I take a chance and take a step closer to her. “Not helping with what, Siobhan?”
“Bastard,” she mutters, her eyes tearing from mine to look down once again. “You're enjoying this, aren't you? I wouldn't be surprised if this isn't some sort of sick joke. Something you and Dean have cooked up, just for shits and giggles.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because that's the kind of guy you are.”
“That hurts, Siobhan. You barely know me.”
“And you barely know me. So I guess we're even on that front.” She takes a deliberate step back and after a moment's hesitation, I decide to leave the gap between us as is.
“I want to know you,” I murmur.
“I can't.”
“Can't what?”
“I can't do this. I can't give you what you want.”
“How do you know what I want? You've barely given me the chance to explain.”
“I don't want to know.” Her voice cracks ever so slightly and all my instincts are calling for me to reach out to her, to pull her to me. But I don't. I let her have her space. I let her push me away.
Because I'm a goddamn idiot.
“Siobhan... I honestly didn't mean to spring this on you. I just couldn't not say anything, y'know? And I know this isn't what either of us agreed to. And I know that I really should have kept my mouth shut, but I honestly can't stop thinking about you. I don't know why. I can't even begin to understand it, but it's the truth.”
“Don't say things you don't mean. Don't pretend just for the sake of a quick fuck.”
Ouch.
“Fuck's sake, Siobhan, I'm not after a quick fuck. Do you really think if that's all I wanted, I would be stood here now? Plenty of women that I don't feel the need to explain myself to.”
“Then why are you standing here? Go on, go find your quick fuck elsewhere.”
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “That's not what I want.”
“Then what, Rollins? What do you want?”
“You.”
Her jaw is frozen as she stares at me, the light too low and dark for me to make out any expression in those large, bottomless orbs of hers that bore into mine.
“Why are you fighting this?” I whisper as I shift towards her. “You say you can't, why?” I reach out and brush my fingers over her shoulder, feeling her shiver but she doesn't pull away. “Tell me.”
“I just can't, okay?”
“Not good enough. Why?”
“I don't go back on my word.”
“Lame. Why?”
“I meant what I said. I can't do this for the sake of a handful of days a year. What kind of life is that? And don't say that others do it just fine. I'm not other people, I'm me and I can't do that. I won't do that.”
“How often would you see a guy if you were dating him?”
“What?” She stares at me incredulously.
“You meet a guy, you're dating. How often do you see him?”
“Once or twice a week...” she concedes.
“So how is that different to dating me?”
“Because it wouldn't be once a week. It would be once every two weeks. Sometimes once a month. Sometimes longer.”
“Not always.”
“We don't even live in the same state. When would you go home?”
“I don't go home.”
“Why?” Her voice is slowly softening, her body language less abrasive.
“No-one to go home to.”
“And what about afterwards, what happens then? What happens when we get serious?”
“You're looking for excuses.”
“No. I'm not. Because the answer is the same. Dating and seeing each other once a week is fine. But when we're in a relationship, I wouldn't get you for more days. It'd still be once a week. What if we move in together? Nothing changes. I still only get you one day a week.”
“I never took you for the possessive type.”
“It's not about being possessive. It's about having a functioning relationship that has that face to face time. Not just texts and emails and phone calls. I've seen Lex do it for years and whilst I have the greatest admiration for her and Roman making it work, I know how much it kills her sometimes. And it's not a case of getting used to it. She does it because she has to because she made that choice. And right now, I can also make that same choice and I say no.” She takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Seth.”
Now it's my turn to shake my head. “No. You can't use that as a reason why, when you can't even be bothered to give it a go in the first place. How do you know you're going to feel like that? How do you know that you won't be able to make it work? You say you're not other people, but you've just used Lex and Roman as an excuse. How do you know that you won't feel differently? Why don't you really admit that you're scared? You're scared and that's enough to put you off from ever taking a chance.” I pause and take a steadying breath. “That night in Vegas I thought this girl has guts – you threw caution into the wind multiple times that night and it paid off. What happened to her? What happened to going all in, huh?”
She doesn't answer me.
“You don't think I'm scared too? You don't think that I'm wondering the same things you are? Like, how on earth am I going to drag myself away from this beautiful woman every week?” I take a small step towards her, closing the gap between us. She doesn't move. “How am I going to manage to hold it together when I see her every damn time? How am I going to get boring ass errands done when all I want to do is take you to bed and show you how much I've fucking missed you?”
I'm so close to her that I can feel her warm breath on my skin. I brush my fingers over her shoulder once again, letting them pluck at the thin strap for a second before edging closer to her neck, slipping under her chin and raising her eyes to mine.
“I'm fucking terrified,” I breathe. “But I'm not going to let that stop me.” Raising my thumb, I brush it over her bottom lip. “You scared, sweetheart?”
Her eyes are wide as she slowly nods.
“You gonna let it stop you?” I ask, my eyes flickering between her lips and eyes, my other hand coming up to cup the back of her neck as I close the final few inches between us.
I swallow her reply – a yes, a no, I don't care. I just can't help myself anymore, I need to feel her mouth on mine, those soft lips just as good as I remember. Her body is stiff against me, but when I slide my fingers through her hair, something changes.
Her mouth opens slightly and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Her body moulds against me, her arm coming up to grip the back of my head, her nails digging into my hair, scratching my scalp as I slide one hand down her bare back to grip her waist and pull her close, so fucking close.
There's a faint clink and thud – her glass hitting the sand – and then a cool hand brushes against my neck, fingers sliding inside the collar of my shirt, a nail scraping over the faintly-raised tattooed symbols. I start to pull back, but she won't let me, a soft whimper coming from the back of her throat as she nips at my bottom lip with her teeth. I hiss in response, my fist tangling in her hair, anchoring her to me as I come back for more. My hand on her back slides from her waist to her hip, my fingertips grazing the swell of her ass, as I press my body against her.
I feel dizzy, my mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, one of them being that I need to pull back, that we need to finish this conversation, that we need to decide exactly what this is before anything more happens. The voice of fucking reason and I want to kick myself.
But I do as I command, easing my mouth from hers. Her hands stay around my neck, stopping me from pulling away entirely so I rest my forehead against hers, breathing heavily.
“You still scared?”
“Yes,” she murmurs.
“You all in?” I hold her gaze, willing her to give me the answer I want. “Because if you're not, I'll walk away right now. I'll apologise, I'll leave you alone. I'll never think–”
“I'm in.” Her voice is barely a whisper, her words almost lost in the breeze.
**
I glance behind me as I make my way out of the bar and head towards the stairs. No one gives me a second look, not even Dean, who I've just left on the pretence of going to the bathroom.
Shiv's room number is etched on my mind. As we headed back along the beach, she whispered it to me. I gave her a sideways look and she just smiled. That was all I needed though. I spent the rest of the evening trying not to stare at her from across the room. If I had it bad before, it was nothing compared to now. All I can think of is that kiss, of her agreeing to give this a go, of what is waiting for me when I finally reach her room.
We decided to keep our distance, not wanting to distract from Roman and Lex's night. But more because if this is going to work, then slow and secret is probably a good start. No prying eyes, no 'I told you so' from any of our friends. Just us, giving it a fair shot, giving it time to settle in. Enjoying the moment, enjoying the thrill and the excitement and the anticipation of what's to come.
I reach the second floor and pause in the stairwell, collecting myself before I push open the door and head along the corridor. My eyes glance from side to side, noting the room numbers until I slow and stop outside the door second from the dead-end.
My knock is more tentative than I hoped and I kick away the self-doubt that's beginning to rise. But all that is forgotten, the second the door clicks open and Shiv's face comes into view.
“Hey,” she murmurs, her fingers clutching the door, shielding her body. “Come in.”
She backs away, opening the door wider and I step inside. “You okay?” I ask as I hear the door click closed behind me.
“Yeah,” she breathes and I hear the lock twist into place. “You?”
I turn to face her and almost stop breathing. Shiv leans against the door, her dress long gone. In its place is my shirt. The one from Vegas. The one I never got back from her. She'd given back the hat after the breakfast, with a promise of the shirt to follow, but it never did and I just forgot about it. Until now. My eyes rake over her body, from her thick red hair, a strand of which she's wrapped around her middle finger, to her teasing eyes and lips, down over her petite frame, my shirt ending mid-thigh. Her right leg is bent, her foot flat against the door, making the material rise slightly, but without giving a hint of what lies beneath.
“You okay?” she asks again, a grin playing on her lips.
“More than okay, sweetheart,” I finally exhale. I take a step towards her, reaching out to finger the sleeve of my shirt. “You wear this often?”
“Once or twice,” she confesses, her eyes ducking down and then back up again. “I was going to give it back to you before we left tomorrow.”
“Keep it.” My fingers trail over her arm as I move closer, barely a breath of air between us. My hands slide down, pushing the material against her body, feeling her shape beneath. Her bent leg widens, letting me settle against her, letting me press my body against hers as I lean down and brush my lips over hers. It's brief, fleeting almost, but fuck it feels good. “It suits you.”
“Yeah?” she sighs against my mouth.
“Definitely,” I kiss her again, one hand squeezing her hip, the other sliding over her bare bent leg, my fingers spreading over her thigh. “That and the fact I like seeing you in my things.”
“Knew you were staking your claim.”
“Worked though,” I grin against her lips before pressing mine against hers again, this time seeking entrance to her mouth, my lower body slowly grinding against her. My hand on her leg slides under it, hooking it up and around my waist, groaning as I feel the shirt shift back, exposing more of her skin to me.
Jesus Christ, she has no idea what she's doing to me. I'm struggling to keep it together and I've been in the room for less than five minutes. My dick is already starting to throb painfully in my pants, my desire for her as clear as day. Her hand is gliding over my back, down to my waistband, tugging my shirt free and then sliding up underneath, her fingers digging into my lower back and urging me closer, even though she's already completely squashed between my body and the door.
Her mouth is insatiable, clinging to me, refusing to let me come up for air. Her other hand is in my hair, fingers fighting with the band and tugging as much as she can free, twisting it around her digits and using it as leverage to keep me to her. Not that she needs to ask or even beg for that to happen. I am more than willing to be a participant in this. Only I'm not one to lie back and let her do all the work. No fucking way. This is my opportunity to prove to her that I am who she needs to be with. That I'm worth being scared for. That I have something to offer that no one else can. That she made the right choice.
I grip her ass with both hands and lift her effortlessly. Her other leg wraps around my waist in a second as I slam her back against the door. Both hands are in my hair now, her body arching against me as I let my mouth slip from hers and kiss my way down to her neck. She offers the sensitive skin to me, urging me on with a whimper and then a throaty moan when I reach the right spot. I suck hard on the hot skin, my teeth grazing as I turn the spot dark. Letting go, I trace the mark with my tongue and then raise my mouth to her ear.
“You're good enough to eat, sweetheart,” I drawl, feeling her shiver. “I remember how good you tasted... Fuck, you were so damn sweet.”
She groans softly, her legs tightening as I scoop her body against me and carry her across the room to the bed. Kneeling on the edge, I ease her down, uncurling her legs from my waist as I do, letting my hands roam over her calves and then up to her thighs again, groaning at her smooth skin. I stand, plucking open my shirt, watching her watching me through thick eyelashes. Her bottom lip is wriggling between her teeth, her chest rising and falling in deep breathes, her cheeks flushed. I drop my shirt from my shoulders and lean down, still holding her gaze, to take off my shoes.
Kneeling back on the edge of the bed, I run my hand up her leg.
“I love your legs,” I murmur. “I know you think they're too short or whatever, but they're perfect to me. I love the feeling of them wrapped around my waist.” I slide my hands under her body and shift her back on the bed, pushing her towards the pillows so her legs stretch out before me. “You wrap them around me so fucking tight... And I love how they feel in my hands.”
I grip her calves again, feeling them tense at my touch.
“And I love how they feel on my back.” I lower myself down, easing her legs over my shoulders as I crawl towards her, hearing her breathing switch up a pace as I breathe against her inner thigh and then slowly peel back the shirt to reveal her panties. They're pink like her dress was and skin tight. My hands ease under her ass, squeezing gently as I lower my mouth and press a kiss against her pelvic bone. She flinches in my arms, a hiss escaping her lips.
“Love the feeling of your thighs gripping my neck,” I murmur against her, my teeth nipping at the skin just above the waistband. Moving back down, I breathe heavily over her entrance, feeling her legs tense around me. There's a faint dark patch, her wetness slowly starting to seep through and I lower my mouth to run my tongue over it, darkening the patch even more and earning a strangled sigh from Shiv.
I can almost taste her. I can definitely smell her scent and it's making me feel dizzy with lust. Slipping my fingers inside the waistband, I pull back, pulling the panties with me and slowly revealing her core to me. Her entrance is slick with desire, her clit practically throbbing as I brush my finger over it. Her body jerks, her hips coming up to me, her heels digging into my back.
“Every time I see you,” I murmur, my finger tracing her entrance, slowly easing inside. “Every time, this is the first thing I'm gonna do. I'm gonna strip you and eat your pussy until you're screaming my name.”
“Mmm,” is all I get from her and I laugh softly.
“You like that?”
“Yes. Oh, fuck, Seth...”
My finger is buried inside her and I trace another over the wet lips before pushing it inside her, spreading them ever so slightly and grinning as she whimpers. I flick my tongue over her clit, groaning as I feel her grip my fingers hard in reaction. A hand comes to rest on my head, fingers twisting around my hair and holding me firm as I work her clit with my tongue.
I love how her body twitches in response. How she's torn between pulling away and urging me on. Her ass grinds down on the bed when I tickle her clit with the tip of my tongue, but her whole body arches when I suck it between my lips and tug gently. And my name just keeps rolling off her tongue. Her voice echoes around the room as I push her closer and closer and then slow, listening to her curse me, but her voice is more breathless every time and she's right on the edge, ready and waiting.
Her inner walls threaten to strangle my fingers as I curl one and brush against the soft, spongy area inside her.
“What the fuck, Seth... Jesus...”
I chuckle and her thighs squeeze around my head in retaliation. I keep on stroking, keep on plunging my fingers inside her, high on her ecstasy as I suck on her clit again and listen to her slowly start to fall apart around me.
My name tumbles from her lips in breathless moans, mixed with a whole string of expletives as her legs squeeze tight and then fall open, a foot on my back, one on the bed as her ass rises from the mattress and forces her lower body into my face. I grip her ass with pleasure, welcoming her into my mouth, switching my fingers for my tongue, my thumb grinding down on her clit as I kiss her entrance and feel her juices soak my tongue.
Her shout is abrupt, but her word, my name hang in the air. Her body goes stiff, her hips rigid in the air, the tension threatening to snap her in two as she sucks in a deep breath at the last minute. My beard is damp from her wetness, my thumb and fingers covered in her essence as I kiss her one last time and ease her legs from my shoulders.
Pushing the shirt up even further, I kiss my way across her stomach, my hands squeezing her hips briefly before rising to ease the shirt up to reveal her breasts. I run my tongue along the underside of one, before cupping it and flicking my thumb over the nipple. She hums softly as I slowly circle her nipple with my tongue, starting off with large circles and then smaller and smaller until I close my mouth over the hard tip and suck gently. Grazing my teeth over it evokes a hiss and I do it, again and again, to hear that noise over and over again.
Shifting my weight, I turn my attention to her other breast and repeat my actions as I shift the shirt higher and eventually slide it up over her head and arms. I pull back, letting the nipple go with a soft pop and cast my eyes over her naked body.
“Fuck,” I murmur.
“What?” her voice is hesitant and I rush to correct her.
“You're stunning, Siobhan.”
She smiles, colour rising in her cheeks. “Not so bad yourself, Mr Rollins. I see cross-fit is really paying dividends.”
I shiver as her hand runs over the curve of my arm, down over my pecs and across my abs. Her nail digs into the grooves as she murmurs in appreciation.
“I'd say that you happen to look more than 'pretty alright,'” she grins, her eyes locking with mine and now it's my turn to redden. “Cocky much?”
“It's the truth, sweetheart,” I smirk, shifting above her, flexing my arms and lowering myself with control to brush my lips against hers. I feel her hands rise and grip my biceps as I press my crotch against her.
The friction of my pants rubs against my stiff-as-a-rod dick. I groan into her cheek as her legs rise and curl around the back of my thighs, her hands moving between our bodies to unzip me, a palm rubbing my length through boxers.
“Just as I remembered,” she breathes into my ear. “Fuck me, Seth...”
My mouth crashes against hers, as her feet push my pants down and her hands move to fumble with my boxers, gripping my bare ass as they slowly slide down my legs. And then her hand is on my dick, her thumb on the tip, her fingers brushing over my balls.
“Move,” she mumbles, her fist squeezing me hard.
But I pull back, curling my hand around her wrist and moving her hand away with a shake of my head as well. She gives me an incredulous look but settles back on the pillows, her hair fanning out, her legs slowly spreading before me. I kick away my clothes and then look around for a second before back at her.
“Bathroom,” she murmurs. “Pocket of the pink wash bag.”
I've never moved faster, retrieving the foil pack and tearing it open with my teeth as I come back to kneel on the edge of the bed, my mind toying with a myriad of ideas.
“How do you want me?” she asks softly, pushing herself upright and twisting her legs under her so she can too rise to her knees.
“As you were.” I shift closer, fisting my dick and watching with a smirk as her eyes flicker between that and my face. “Lie back and spread those legs for me.”
I watch as she lets her knees give way beneath her and then she leans back on the bed, exposing her body to my will and command. Her feet are planted on the bed, her knees and thighs open and inviting me in. I grip one leg and hook it over my arm as I line myself up at her entrance and then push forward.
Her warmth consumes me. I let out a low grunt as I slide into her with ease, watching her eyes flutter shut. I lean down, bending her leg, even more, filling her even more as I capture her plump lips. Her mouth moves lazily as I thrust into her with long, hard strokes. She moans into my mouth as I curl her leg around my waist and pick up my pace. Resting my arms on either side of her head, I grind against her, my fingers dancing over her forehead to push back her hair and then down the side of her face to grip her chin and force her head back so I can attack her neck again. I lock onto my previous mark, determined to make it even darker against her pale skin.
“Fuck...”
Her breathing hitches and I can feel her body tensing beneath me. My mouth moves almost instinctively from her neck down to her breasts, twisting my tongue over her nipple making her hiss and squirm and arch her back. I slide my hand between our bodies, feeling the sweat starting to form on my stomach as I press a finger between her legs, seeking out her clit and then rubbing circles over it and almost bursting myself as she cries out.
“Seth... I...”
I urge her on with a chaste kiss, not wanting to stop her from crying out, my mouth at her ear, coaxing her, encouraging her and feeling her grip me tightly as she cums hard.
I slow and then stop completely, sliding out of her and gently rolling her onto her stomach. Gripping her hips, I pull her ass high and rub my dick along her slick entrance.
“Siobhan?” I murmur, squeezing her hip. “You okay?”
Her reply is muffled in the sheets, but she grinds back against me, her need loud and clear. I push back inside her, cursing as I feel myself sinking even deeper this time. I can't hold back and I'm pounding into her a second later, my brow furrowed in exertion, sweat sliding down the side of my face as I take in her body outstretched beneath me, her hair over her face, covering her eyes but I can still see her mouth as she turns her head to the side. Those plump lips are going to be the death of me.
I lean over her, pushing her hair away roughly and run my thumb over her mouth. Her lips part and she takes it into her mouth, sucking hard as she catches my eye.
“Fuck, Siobhan... Babe... You feel... So... Fucking... Good,” I grunt with every thrust. My hand slips over her hip, between her legs and I slowly rub her clit once again, watching her face contort in pleasure as I do. “Like that, sweetheart? You gonna cum again?”
“Yes...” she squeaks out, her body squishing into the bed with every jerk of my hips. She reaches out in front of her, desperate to grip onto something, anything, to keep her steady, but I quickly stop her, quitting my mission on her clit to grab her hands and press her down onto the bed, covering her with my body, although still careful to keep my weight off her.
Still inside her, I nudge her legs wider and then pinning her to the bed, I slowly grind against her. She groans loudly, my dick still deep inside her but the sensation for both of us changing. I can tell by her face, by the tightening of her pussy that the movement combined with the bedsheets are having a more than adequate sensation on her clit. I lean down, nuzzling her hair, her neck, her cheek.
“Seth...” she whimpers. “Shi-it....”
“That's it,” I whisper in her ear, my tongue running along the outer shell. “Tell me... Talk to me...”
“I... Just don't stop.”
“No problem,” I smirk, grinding into her harder than before, one hand leaving hers for a second to push her hair from her neck. I press my lips against her sweat-ridden skin, licking it clean, savouring the taste, the smell as she breaks beneath me, her moan cutting out halfway through as the breath leaves her lungs.
She's limp beneath me as I ease back and move her onto her side. I trail my hand over her back, as I straddle her leg and curl the other around my waist. My dick is back inside her and now I'm ready to chase down my own release. I reach out and turn her face to me, smiling down at her as she looks up through hazy eyes.
I grip her leg with one hand, the other gripping her ass as I pound into her, my eyes squeezing shut as I feel warmth spreading in my stomach, the blood hurtling to my dick as I look down at her and watch her hand on her breast, the other reaching to her stomach, fighting against my hand as she plays with her clit. I can feel her tightening around me once again and that's it. I'm done. It's over.
I call her name as I cum, my legs threatening to give way as I jerk against her and then pull away so I can collapse beside her rather than crush her with my weight. My mind is a blurry mess, struggling to comprehend the last few seconds when a hand starts to run through my hair. I turn my head, open my eyes and see Siobhan's eyes, her soft smile. She rolls onto her back, opening her arms to me. I hastily tug the condom from my dick and chuck it towards the trash can before joining her. I nuzzle against her neck, feeling her fingers work over my shoulders and then down my back.
“So...” she murmurs. “Was that just to convince me I'd made the right choice or can I expect that every time I see you?”
“Both,” I raise my head to meet her eye and grin.
She returns the gesture, but then her eyes drop away.
“What?” I ask, worry starting to rise.
“I... I just wondered when I will actually see you again.”
“In the morning, sweetheart. I'll be here.”
“And after that?”
“I'm on the road until next Wednesday.”
“Okay.”
I tip her head back so I can see her eyes again. “Is that an invitation?”
“Perhaps.”
“We can do this properly,” I venture.
“Nothing about this screams proper,” she sighs, but my worry subsides when she offers me a sly grin. “You'll come to my apartment and we'll fuck and eat take out and talk. We'll do this our way.” She pauses, her fist tightening around my hair as she searches my eyes. “Are you with me?”
“All the way.”
Fin
17 notes · View notes
foulserpent · 4 years
Text
nosleep mods deleted this for apparently not being a horror story. enjoy
My friend Ed is a bit of an outdoorsman. Not one of those hardcore 'two week hike hunting for food and sleeping in the dirt' types, but he does his share of hunting and camping. He and I got into it together when we met in community college and went on a weed-fueled camping trip over spring break, and since then he has far outgrown my own outdoor endeavors.
He's gotten some great stories to tell over the years. Finding a pair of souvenir Vegas dice in the stomach of a rabbit he was cleaning, getting hit by two skunks in a single day, close encounters with pumas and bears, and the far more harrowing and painful encounters with other hikers. But he's never come back with anything all that disturbing. Until his last trip.
Ed had been making an admirable effort of converting his 'spend the fall watching netflix and consuming pumpkin themed beverages' oriented boyfriend, Saúl, to some small game hunting. About a year ago, the two of them had taken a trip down south to do just that.
A few days into their week-long trip, I got a flurry of panicked texts from Saúl. It was all things like, "omg we just saw something so messed up" and "never going to the desert again LMAO there was a naked guy" or something to that effect.
I barely remember. I was bedridden with the worst case of the flu I'd ever experienced, and received these texts through a haze of fever and Nyquil. At that time, my response to those texts was more or less "Wow, hate when that happens :("
Neither of them provided elaboration upon their return, and I was a little too consumed in my own misery to ask for it. It was left at that.
Last week, Ed and I were practicing our usual 7 o'clock ritual of smoking behind the gas station during his break and complaining about the mere existence of customers. His mask was pulled down to his chin and he was fumbling with an entire cigar he'd brought to work, complaining about some customer who was shirtless in the middle of November and clearly blitzed out of his mind.
It was as he was describing the man's public indecency that I remembered the frantic texts I had received last fall.
"Hey, speaking of nudity...What was the story with the naked dude in the desert?" I asked him.
He cringed.
"From last year, on your trip?" I pressed.
"Yeah, I know, I know. God. Did Saúl text you?"
"Yeah, but he didn't give me the details of it."
Ed finished lighting the cigar, and took a long drag.
"Yeah, okay." He said. "I was honestly trying to forget about it but like. I don't know why Saúl was so stuck on the nudity like, that was the least messed up part of it all. It was the craziest thing."
It was the craziest thing is the set of words he would begin every particularly intriguing story with, and I realized I should probably settle in. I made myself comfortable against the dumpster in anticipation.
His story was as follows.
"So, yeah. We were out in the scrub. Technically weren't supposed to be there, we were a little ways off my aunt's land but like, there's no one to bug you about that out there. It was this kinda rocky area, lots of little hills and tall brush. So you couldn't see very far from the ground. And it was pretty well into the afternoon, and we hadn't caught a damn thing, so we were just kinda screwing around at that point. And we were near this bigass arroyo, and-"
He paused.
"Wait, you know what an arroyo is?" He asked me, taking another drag from his cigar.
I shook my head. He nodded solemnly at my midwestern ignorance.
“Okay, yeah. So it's a dry sorta riverbed in the desert. You ever seen a dried up creek? It's like that. They form when the rains come and are completely dry the rest of the year. And a lot of them are pretty small, but this one was like, a miniature canyon. Probably thirty feet across and ten feet deep. And it kind of winds around the hills before getting shallower when the elevation changes or whatever.
“So anyway we’re… yeah we’re there. The arroyo is on the other side of some rocks, and the open desert is in front of us. And we were sat down in the shade, having some beef jerky and stuff."
He paused again. He seemed to be lost in thought, eyes squinting and looking somewhere distant.
"So yeah, we're having a grand old time, just having a snack or whatever. And suddenly we hear screaming. Some guy’s screaming, ‘help! help me!’ out in the bush somewhere nearby.”
“And you know how Saúl is. Too much of a sweetheart for his own good. He's like nudging me and going "Eddie, we should go help." And yeah, sure, I wanted to help but there was something… Weird? About it? Like the shouting sounded real close but I wasn’t hearing anything else that, you know, accompanies a call for help. Like, no running, no sounds of struggling or being mauled by a wild animal or whatever. It was DEAD silent whenever the guy wasn't shouting.
"And like, call me an asshole but I'm not gonna do some ‘white person in a horror movie 'lets split up, gang!'’ shit. I was staying right where I was.”
"So we just kind of sat there, listening to it. The guy had started just- shrieking. No words, just making noise. And at this point I was starting to feel like a complete bastard for being the pragmatic one, but Saúl didn't seem to wanna move either. Like, it was super off.
"And then, there’s another sound. Kind of a…uh… Gurgling noise? Like-”
Ed broke off to make an odd sound in his throat. It was a low, prolonged croak that slowly lifted into a 'whoop!’
Some old woman in the process of fueling her SUV glared at him. He scowled back.
“Okay, it was actually nothing like that. But you get the idea.”
“And that happens a couple times, and it... It didn't sound like a person's voice anymore. And I'm thinking maybe the world's most fucked up coyote just killed a guy and was celebrating or whatever, but it didn't really sound like an animal either. It was kinda inorganic, you know what I mean?
"But yeah, it kind of whoops a couple more times, and then the last time it just... Didn't stop. It kept going, and it turns into this- music? It sounded, uh, sort of like a bunch of different flutes being played at once. But lower. Very deep. I don’t remember the tune so don’t ask. But it was music, and me and Saúl are just looking at each other like "what the fuck?”.
"And at that point, curiosity is kicking in and I'm gripped by this wave of idiocy, so I get up and start walking towards the sound. Low to the ground, super slow. Stealth. And I can tell it’s coming from the arroyo. So I just verrrrry carefully climb up the side and look inside.“
Ed paused to grasp for words.
"And there’s a man in there. Some pasty dude. Sunburnt, t-shirt tan lines, all that. Pretty scrawny, but otherwise normal looking from the chest down. No injuries or nothing, which I can say for sure because, yeah, the dude is completely naked. I mean naked. There was a pile of his clothes nearby, and his whole dick was out and he was barefoot. And he was DANCING. He’s just dancing naked in this friggin’ ditch.
"And it took me a bit to process what was going on with his head. Like, the music sounds are coming from up there. And I’m thinking he’s got some sort of weird instrument over his head, but he dances towards me and um. He has no head. Or like- Shit. He kind of has a head? Like I could sort of make it out, but it’s tilted all the way backwards. Like, touching his back. So his neck's facing the sky, and his eyes are just kind of staring out behind him.
"And there’s all these… tubes. Coming out of where the nose and mouth probably used to be. Big fleshy tubes, skin toned. But they didn't flop around, they were like, pretty firm. And they’ve got little holes all over them. And that’s where the music is coming from. He’s playing them.”
Ed lifted his arms over his head and mimed with his fingers. “Like a flute”
“So like, it’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen, basically, but I can’t stop watching. And Saúl eventually comes up beside me, and we don’t say anything, we just watch this guy. It’s gotta be like… A solid hour we’re just sitting there, with this guy playing his music and dancing around. And he starts moving up the arroyo, still dancing the whole time, and eventually he’s out of sight. But we hear the music a good while longer until it gets too distant. I don't think he ever saw us. Or he didn't care. I don't know."
He was silent for a long while. I waited for him to continue, but it was evident that it was over.
"And... That was it?" I asked.
"Yeah, that was it. We got the hell out of there and didn't see him again. Or hear anything about a crazy nudist in the area."
He took another puff of his cigar, and coughed.
"I mean, it could have been... A really, really good costume or something. Like, REALLY good. I mean I definitely saw his eyes blinking. On the head that was... You know. Bent entirely backwards. But hey, could be a costume!" He added with a flourish, clearly not entertaining this possibility whatsoever.
"Holy shit." I said.
He laughed, and snuffed out his cigar in the snow. "Damn right."
126 notes · View notes
pars-ley · 4 years
Text
Sincerely, MINE
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Pairing: Idol Taehyung x Female Fan Reader ft Jaebeom
Summary: Date night with Taehyung turns into dinner with some members of Got7 and some flirting from their leader, Jaebeom, to which your idol boyfriend doesn't take too kindly.
Genre: Idol! au / Reaction! au / Established relationship / Smut / One-shot
Rating: 18+ (Nsfw)
Warnings: Dom!Tae / Sub!Reader / Slight exhibitionism / Slight possessiveness / Unprotected sex (wrap it up guys) / Swearing 
Word count: 2400
A/N: Beta read by @papillonsgf @unoriginal-username15432 and @wheresmymoniat you three are amazing and so helpful, thank you! Thank you to @yeojaa​ for making the break line as I am incapable of such simple things.
I’m posting this for the @btsholidaybingo​ One of my squares was ‘Kim Taehyung’. 
If you want jealous Tae featuring a confident and suave Jaebeom then I hope you enjoy this.
“Hey, Taehyung!” You hear someone call, as you turn to see Mark Tuan from GOT7 walking quickly towards the two of you, a large smile stretching his mouth.
“Mark! How are you?” Taehyung asks, with his bright, boxy grin. The one that makes your insides clench.
“Good, man, it’s good to see you.” He replies, patting him on the shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “And who's this?” He turns his attention and his brilliant smile to you.
Taehyung practically beams, as his arm winds tightly around your waist, hugging you against his side. “This is my y/n.” He announces proudly.
“So nice to meet you, y/n. I’ve definitely heard a lot about you.” He takes your hand, his grip soft as he slowly shakes. “Why don’t the two of you join us? Will be good to catch up, Tae and to get to know you better, of course.” He grins wider, flashing his set of perfectly straight teeth.
Please, please, please. You look up at Tae with wide hopeful eyes and he can’t help but nod in agreement. 
Mark leads you over to his table where BamBam gets up to greet you both. He's not shy and he pulls you instantly into a warm embrace, his words sweetly echoing Mark's statement of how nice it is to meet you. 
That’s when you see him. Jaebeom. Long hair swept back behind his ears, an ethereal being if ever you saw one. He’s even more handsome in real life, they all are. 
His calm demeanour precedes him as he sits casually in the corner, giving you a slight wave.
It takes all your power not to squeal and grin like an idiot. 
BamBam indicates for you to slide along the leather seats into the booth, meaning you would be sitting next to him. “JB, this is y/n, Taehyung’s girl.” Bam introduces you, as you hesitantly, and rather awkwardly, shift yourself towards him until your thighs are almost touching. 
“Hello.” He smiles politely and bows his head. Your whole face illuminates like the Las Vegas strip in response but your eyes drop shyly to your hands, placed tensely in your lap.
Everyone takes their seats and you end up neatly sandwiched in between Jaebeom and Bam, with Taehyung sitting opposite you.
“Can I just say, y/n is a huge fan of you guys.” Your boyfriend pipes up.
You feel the blush spread hot across your cheeks as Bam nudges you playfully in your side. “Ah, you like GOT7 more than BTS, huh?”
You laugh, feeling more relaxed by the minute. “BTS are number one for me, of course.” 
“Ok, ok," he waves his hand nonchalantly, "but who’s your GOT7 bias?” Bam wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you fight back another laugh.
“It’s Jaebeom.” You hear Tae’s voice say the words and you freeze, instantly feeling your face ablaze with embarrassment. Why? Why would he do that to me? The mischievous glint in his eye sparkles with amusement but is soon replaced with an apologetic grimace when you glare at him. 
Bam taps JB’s shoulder. “Of course it is, it’s always my hyung.” He pouts but gives you a wink which sets your mind at ease that he isn't offended.
“Me?” Jaebum points to himself. “I am flattered.” He smiles coolly at you, eyes intense and watching you closely. He seems to be looking right into you, searching for your innermost kept secrets. You have to look away, feeling more bashful than ever under his consuming stare.
You all discuss what food and drink to get before Taehyung and Mark go up to order. 
Leaning back in your chair feeling a little awkward and shy, when you feel Jaebeom put his arm along the back of your headrest. He turns his body towards you, leg up on the seat. “So, have you ever been to one of our shows?” He asks, raising a perfectly arched brow, his intense gaze burning right into you once again. 
Suddenly, he doesn’t seem as reserved as you initially thought, confidence rolling off him in waves.
You shake your head. “Not yet. Hopefully soon.”
“Seriously, just let one of us know when you want to come, we’ll get you tickets and some good seats. You can even come backstage after, if you’d like and hangout.” He shrugs, as if he hadn't just offered you the chance of a lifetime.
Yes, please! Your mouth almost falls open. “T-that would be amazing! Thank you.”
A satisfied smile spreads across his mouth, pulling his lips into a beautiful curve. You’re unsure as to whether he is flirting with you or you are simply misinterpreting his kindness. 
“How long have you been with Taehyung?” He questions.
“About 8 months, now.” 
He nods slowly. “Still in the honeymoon stage then?”
You frown, not understanding the implication. “I’m sorry?”
He waves off the question. “Are you guys serious?”
Your mouth opens then closes, slightly gobsmacked at the line of questioning. "Yes."
"That's a shame." He winks at you. A movement so simple, but he makes it look so sexy and leaves your heart pounding in your ears at the implication.
As much as you would never cheat on Taehyung and are more than happy with him, this exchange has given you quite an ego boost.
Before you can even respond, Taehyung and Mark are back and you feel Jaebeom slowly remove his arm from behind you.
Thank god. You smile at Taehyung, feeling somewhat relieved he’s back, he returns it but it doesn't reach his eyes. His eyes flicker to Jaebeom and his jaw tenses’. Looks like this is going to be a fun conversation later.
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As you’re saying your goodbyes, being pulled into a tight hug from Mark and then Bam, you feel the nerves spread through you like wildfire when it’s your turn to face Jaebeom. 
He takes your hand, opting out of the friendly hug, to which you are somewhat relieved about. Only to bring your hand up to his mouth and gently press his lips to your fingertips, following it with a smirk as he watches your eyes widen in panic. A thrill runs through you at the feel of his lips on your skin but it’s pushed quickly away and replaced with alarm and anxiety.
What is he doing!?
Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, attacking your ribcage with brute force. Before meeting Taehyung, I would have yearned to have this kind of attention from Jaebeom, I would have jumped at the chance...quite literally. But, since Taehyung, there isn’t anyone else that could give me what he already does. 
Your heart thrums wildly but not from want...from trepidation. Feeling Taehyung's burning gaze on the two of you makes your stomach churn. 
Releasing your hand and stepping past you, he leans in to your ear and whispers, "It's been a pleasure to meet you.” 
You gulp, feeling uncomfortable now at the exchange, no longer seeming like harmless flirting and more like a show just for Taehyung.
He leaves without so much as a backward glance. 
The other two wave, looking slightly apologetic, leaving you and Tae alone. 
A long, silent car journey home. The unease growing in the pit of your stomach. 
As soon as the door to your apartment is shut, Tae turns to face you. “Enjoy yourself tonight?” His accusatory tone makes you frown, your annoyance alight in your chest, fire running through every vein.
“What are you talking about?” You slam your keys on the counter. 
He scoffs. “Don’t give me that, I bet you were loving having your bias all over you like that.” 
“At first, of course it was flattering, sure, but if you were actually paying attention to me, then you would have seen how uncomfortable I felt. It must have been written all over my face.” 
He stops for a moment, clearly thinking back.
“Let me guess, you were too busy watching Jaebeom to notice?” You raise an eyebrow at him.
He looks down, away from you and walks over to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the bustling streets below.
His reflection on the glass illuminates with the dark night sky as a backdrop.
Sighing, you close the distance between you and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his broad back. You can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, all his muscles tense under your touch.
“Watching him with you…” He starts, then lets out a deep breath. “I was trying so hard to hold it in. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was watch, while it was like he wanted to claim you right in front of me.” His voice wobbles and his body shakes.
“Hey, hey, hey,” You step in front of him and pull his face down to look at you. “No one was making any claim on me. I’m yours, utterly, completely, hopelessly yours. No one else would stand a chance.”
You see the corner of his mouth twitch into a tiny smile. “Even your bias.”
“Even my bias.” You agree. "Although, I gotta say...I think Bam might have stolen that title.”
His mouth pulls up at the side in a smile, eyes still trained on the floor but relief relaxing his features.
You lift yourself onto your tiptoes and touch your lips to his. “You weren't worried, were you?” 
He looks up, his stare fierce as he catches your teasing tone. “No.” He responds, taking a step towards you, causing you to take one back. 
“Are you sure? It seemed like you were.” You continue, knowing exactly how to press the right buttons.
“Why would I be worried?” He takes another step, frowning and pressing your back up against the cold, hard glass of the window, his body flush to yours. “You’re mine.” He almost growls.
Your body responds to his domineering demeanour, a shiver vibrating through you, your underwear already slick to you. 
He grabs your hands and pins them, by the wrists, above your head. “Say it.” He commands.
“I’m yours.” You whisper, your legs weak with anticipation. 
You feel his hand travel up your skirt, lightly caressing your thigh, until he reaches your hot, throbbing crotch. 
He groans when he feels the wet patch already soaking through the lace. “You want me?”
You nod.
“How do you want me? Tell me what you want.” He rubs light circles on your concealed clit.
You moan from the feeling of him touching you but also of him not touching you enough. “Fuck me.” You look up at him, your innocent eyes meeting his. “Fuck me against this window."
You see the heat flash in his eyes and he roughly pulls your panties down and starts unbuckling his belt. His hand comes back to your clit, running his fingers along your wet folds and feeling your entrance. 
“I’m gonna stretch you open, baby.” He whispers, licking your arousal off his fingers. 
You clench your legs together at the sight, desperate for some relief.
He pulls out his generous erection, his jeans still up but open. 
You bite your lip as you look at him and his perfect dick that’s about to ruin you.
He grabs your leg and hooks it over his arm, then lines himself against your entryway. Slowly he pushes himself in and you can’t keep quiet as you feel yourself stretch over him, swallowing him inside you, greedily.
The noise he makes once he’s levelled in you is so sinful it has you clenching around him. 
“You feel so good.” He says, eyes never leaving yours as he starts to move pushing your buttocks against the cold glass of the window.
His hand comes up to your face, cupping your jaw possessively and keeping you focused on him. He thrusts into you, slow and hard but controlled. He knows what you like and he’s showing you exactly that. 
“Who does this pussy belong to?” He asks, eyes trained on your mouth.
You moan, “You, Taehyung.”
“Who can make you this wet?” He thrusts into you harder, hitting that perfect place each time.
“You, just you!” You clasp his broad shoulders, as you feel your orgasm building, your core tight and ready to spring.
“Can anyone else make you feel this good?” He pants.
Your sweet release is so close but you can’t give into it, not until he tells you. “No one.” You whisper, hardly able to focus on anything but the pressure of your impending orgasm. 
Your mind swirls, with his words, his movements and the idea that people in the buildings across from you could see your intimate tangle unfold, it all makes your core ache with pure desperation and raw lust. 
“Would JB be able to make you this wet?” He asks through gritted teeth.
You shake your head, eyes rolling from the thrill. His hard dick moves with such lavish purposely, your body shudders against him.  
“Say it.” He barks, breathing hard and fast. 
He must be close, please let him be close, I can’t hold off for much longer.
“N-no, he wouldn’t!” You call out. “God, Taehyung, please.”
“What, baby?”
“Please, let me cum.” You beg, eyes pleading frantic and fierce.
He smirks, then presses his lips against yours, so tender and soft in comparison to the painful grip on your wrists he still has. 
Oh my god, I’m gonna cum, it all feels too good.
“Cum for me.” He whispers, sending new chills cascading down your spine. He thrusts hard into you one more time as you fall apart, everything unravelling as your walls clench around him, milking him to orgasm too. His warm seed spilling into you, filling you completely.
Your mind and body are full of him as you’re unable to focus on anything but the sounds of his pleasure and the bliss he’s giving you. You don’t want it to end. 
“Fuck, y/n.” He grinds into you, the feeling prolonging the spasms of pleasure. 
As the pulses of your climax die down, he releases your leg and pulls you away from the window but still has you pressed firmly against him. 
“No one else.” You reutter to him as his forehead meets yours tenderly.
Smirking, he raises an eyebrow. “Oh baby, we’re not done yet. I’m gonna have you calling my name all night, to make sure you know exactly who you belong to.” 
139 notes · View notes
fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years
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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 19 - The Masters
Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what are they up to?, 3.6k
@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18
Willie was back in Vegas, wandering through the street late at night. He was just leaving the hotel, like he’d just dropped Alex off by the front doors, knowing that he was saying goodbye and couldn’t stand to leave it on a heavy note. Still, he moved onward without looking back. He was just going to enjoy the memory that he had of the green eyes and the waves and the way he’d been nestled against Alex’s chest with fingers in his hair and wearing the hat and feeling like a handsome prince at the look on Alex’s face and - yeah, he was just going to cherish it forever. Without ever having another chance. Rock stars didn’t keep promises like that, no matter how much they meant to. The second Alex made it big, he would forget him, Willie was sure.
The journey from the hotel back to Caleb’s house was incredibly short. He looked back toward the street in bewilderment, unsure what could have happened. Sure, Willie knew his shortcuts, but he’d definitely clocked that journey numerous times.
As he walked up the drive, he rounded the corner and to his horror found the shed already ablaze. Stepping back in terror, Willie stiffened as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, Caleb loomed over him with a monstrous look in his eyes. He seemed to grow larger by the second and his face became twisted and grotesque. Then he opened his mouth, letting out a cry of rage as his eyes began burning a fiery purple and he raised his arm as if to strike.
“I told you to clean up this mess!” he cried.
Running away from the house, Willie was only just able to escape his attempted blows. His feet seemed to slam against the pavement, and his breathing was too loud. Looking up momentarily, he somehow had already arrived at the diner, and that was in flames too. Willie couldn’t help the small cry of distress that released from his throat, almost like a sob. Changing direction, he eventually came to the hotel and watched as it was already crumbling apart as it burned. Fear and confusion consumed him as Willie continued running with tears streaming down his face. The bodega was on fire too. And so was Roy’s. Anywhere that Willie tried to run to roared in fiery destruction.
He was sitting inside the truck, but it was empty. Nobody sat in the driver’s seat - nobody smiled back at him. All Willie could see was that the truck was burning but he couldn’t open the door to escape. He tried rolling down the window but the flames got too high and he had to roll it back up. The door wouldn’t unlock or be forced open. Willie could feel himself suffocate in the confined space, feel his pulse rising. The ever encroaching doom of never making it out shrouded him like it was its own force.
“Willie!” A banging could be heard on the window and Willie looked up to see Alex frantically trying to open the door on the other side. Pressing his hands up against the glass, Willie shook his head, telling him it was no use. Alex just kept tugging on the handle and pounding his fist on the window in desperation, and didn’t seem to be affected by the flames consuming the truck as he did so. All Willie could hear was his name striking against the glass with every fistfall, but no change in Alex’s ability to save him. The agonizing sound repeated, slowly fading back as everything darkened and became more muffled, and then finally his mind regained consciousness.
Sitting up in bed, Willie sucked in a breath and huddled himself close. Taking a few seconds to try and let his pulse calm down, he looked over and found Sheldon had been curled up in sleepy contentment against his stomach, and was already stretching to find another place to sleep. Picking up the cat and cuddling him into his chest, Willie scratched his favorite spot behind his ears, hoping to convince him to continue sleeping at his side. Hearing Sheldon purr helped slow his excited heart rate.
Thank goodness it had just been a nightmare. But why had it been so terrifying and bizarre? He had already been through the loop with the one that went backwards, and now having everything go down in flames and being teased with the hope of rescue? Willie didn’t think he wanted to know what it meant. It was beginning to be a pattern now that dreams like that had a significant meaning. He was afraid of what the meaning of this one might be.
Sheldon took advantage of his loosened grip while he was caught up in his thoughts, and scuttled off of the mattress into the dark. Sighing heavily, Willie laid down and pulled the covers over himself, trying to get back to the same level of warmth and comfort as before. Nothing was bringing him back into a state where he could easily drift back to sleep. The wonder of the ocean in Alex’s green eyes didn’t help this time because it only brought the echo of his voice crying Willie’s name. He could only focus on missing the feeling of his cat curled up beside him.
“It’s gotten worse,” Alex said over the phone. Willie was just finishing another shift at the record store when he’d gotten the call. It’d been a few weeks since their first date and Alex hadn’t even been able to call in that time. He didn’t know how he’d been able to handle months without him after that whole day filled with absolute bliss. It was great to hear his voice again.
“How much worse?” Willie asked.
“He’s been doing this thing where he criticizes the tiniest things, but then he uses every bit of persuasion to make us nod and say yes to what he wants. At first we fought it, but now we just do what he says and then hate it later. It sucks.”
“That’s how he started with me,” Willie told him. “I didn’t know any better, so it was worse.” So much worse - his mind had been so addled with the loss of memory and new information had been frightening for a while. He’d merely been a toy in Caleb’s puppeteer hands.
“Yeah, and now he’s watching us like crazy. He’s never stayed in L.A. this long. He’s there from the second we’re in the studio to when we leave.”
“Huh,” Willie replied. “I think I might be to blame for that.” A cruel memory arose of all the times he’d ignored Caleb’s imposed curfew and then been asked what he’d been up to.
“It doesn’t even feel like we’re doing music anymore,” Alex lamented. He’d been fired up when he had started the conversation, but the way his energy flickered out pained Willie too much. Alex hadn’t had a chance to be open with him about why music was so important to him, but Willie was able to take a few guesses.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Well, the guys and I have been talking…”
Willie rode in the back of the van with Alex and Reggie as the guys carefully rolled up into the alley behind the studio. They all remained hushed, but the anticipation in the atmosphere was electric. Each of them scrunched their faces at the sound of squeaky brakes as Bobby slowed to a stop and parked beside a door. He hadn’t spoken a word for the entire drive, but Willie shared a glance with Alex, both of them full of nerves and adrenaline, and they each held in awkward laughter. Luke got out as quietly as he could, made a careful sweep of the premises, and then unlocked the door before signaling everyone to get out.
“So you want to be in on this?” Alex asked. He had just told Willie their plan to get back at Caleb and it immediately got him excited.
“Of course!” he told Alex. “I’d give anything to make him pay back for everything he did.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Alex said. Willie could hear his smile from the other end.
As they each carefully entered the back end of the studio, Willie caught the stench of cigarette smoke in the first place they entered and covered his nose. While they continued further in, Bobby lit a flashlight.
“Ow!” Reggie immediately covered his eyes from being accidentally blinded. Bobby winced as he moved the beam away from his face.
“Sorry!” he whispered. “It’s hard to tell what’s what in here, it’s so dark.”
“When are we going?” Willie asked.
“Next Sunday night.” Alex told him. “Caleb should be out of town that weekend. Plus we have a few things that need to be ready first before we go for it. But I wanted to make sure you were totally in before we put all the plans together.”
Willie smirked. He wasn’t sure if Alex was aware he was tickling his rule-breaking side, but he wanted to think that maybe he did know. For someone as sweet as he was, it sure was nice that he didn’t try to stifle that side of Willie.
“Are you and the guys gonna pick me up?”
“Yeah. We’ll come around...eleven? Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, that works perfectly.”
“Okay. I can’t wait to see you.”
Willie had to suck in a breath at those words, already wishing he didn’t have to wait an entire week.
“Can’t wait to see you either.”
They had gone all out with wearing black together and everything. Luke had been really vocal about it because Willie guessed he’d always wondered what a heist would be like. Did this count as a heist? It didn’t involve taking money or precious gems or anything - not even stuff that didn’t already belong to them, technically. In any case, it was definitely somewhere past midnight and due to the circumstances the guys had to break in to get what they wanted.
Willie followed them through the hallway, intrigued. This was where Alex had been spending a good deal of his time. Where Caleb had come and continued to spread lies. What the man wanted with them Willie was still unsure of, but he wondered if he’d been part of drawing Caleb’s attention to them. He didn’t like the possibility of having dragged them into his mess, but maybe it would be over soon. Alex put a hand on his shoulder and he immediately responded with an encouraging smile as warmth spread all over him.
 Luke was shuffling through the key ring. He hadn’t explained where he’d gotten it from and Willie honestly didn’t care to ask. The fact he had one instead of picking every single lock was impressive.
The door opened to reveal the studio they’d spent the past months recording in and Willie looked around at all the strange things he’d never imagined inside. So many different kinds of microphones and cords, stands for all sorts of things, smaller rooms to the side, headphones hanging everywhere. It seemed so different from just playing a show somewhere. Alright, maybe that was the point, but still, Willie was in wonder about how this somehow meshed with Alex’s rock n’ roll world. He didn’t want to laugh, but this place seemed so...wrong for the guys of Sunset Curve. Not because it was just any recording studio, but this particular one made him picture a bunch of guys in pressed business suits making some easy listening record. He would’ve tried to tell them not to sign here even if Caleb weren’t involved.
While he looked on, the rest of them began taking out all of their equipment. Quickly, Willie aided Alex in carrying out different pieces of his drum set. He had to be especially careful carrying out any cymbals so they didn’t make any noise, moving at a ridiculously slow pace. The rest of the guys packed up their guitars and amps and they managed to somehow place everything in the van so it fit tightly and securely.
“Is that really everything?” Willie asked, peeking inside once they’d hauled everything out.
“We’ve done this plenty of times,” Reggie told him. “Not the breaking and entering thing, of course, but the whole packing all of our stuff into Bobby’s trusty van.” He patted the side of the van affectionately. “It’s like Tetris!”
“Her name is Thelma, thank you,” Bobby teasingly corrected before he disappeared back inside the studio.
Reggie got flustered as he followed him. “I...wasn’t calling her Tetris…”
Willie chuckled as he shut the door and brought up the rear. This time the guys went into the booth behind the studio and began looking into every box and drawer they could find. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but Willie still joined them anyway. What were masters even supposed to look like? After filtering through everything they could, Luke and Bobby stood up.
“I’m not finding anything,” Luke said. “Anybody else?”
Alex rose from where he’d been kneeling over a box.
“Nothing.”
“Gonna be honest, I have no clue what I'm looking at,” Willie told them. Reggie peeked over into the box he’d been rifling through. After a few seconds, he shook his head.
“Nope, nothing there either.”
“Ahh, I figured they wouldn’t be here, but I thought we should look anyway, just to cover all our bases,” Luke admitted.
“Where else were you planning on looking?” Bobby urged slightly. He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost one already.”
“Everywhere man, what else?”
“Luke, we can’t spend all night here,” Alex said.
“Okay, guys” Luke defended. “We can split up or something and get things done twice as fast.” The guys looked around at each other, although it was obvious what the pairings would be.
“Okay, Alex, Willie, you two can go together. Bobby and Reggie, come with me.” Willie instinctively took Alex’s hand as they looked at each other, both smiling a little. “Just don’t get stuck in a closet together or something.”
“Really, Luke?” Alex remarked. “Us? In a closet? Choice words, man.”
Luke only rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smirk as he followed Bobby and Reggie. Alex turned to Willie, also shaking his head at his friend.
“Okay,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.” 
Hand in hand, Willie followed Alex into another storage room, having difficulty getting his mind off the now-forbidden closet scenario. Maybe they could find the masters and then kill some time? He’d gotten a chaste little smooch as he’d entered the van and plenty of knee touches, but as they were already in the middle of breaking in, why not take the chance to make out in a closet while they were at it? The kind of story that would make for later? The memory? It was too tempting.
“I won’t lie, I definitely thought you guys knew where these masters would be,” Willie told Alex as he pulled open drawers full of file folders. Alex sighed as he shut the drawer he’d been searching.
“I should’ve told you we were guessing at best,” he said. “But we really did think they were most likely going to be in the mixing booth. Or, I guess, all of us excluding Luke.”
“What are you guys going to do if they’re not here?”
Running both hands through his hair, Alex thought for a little bit. It appeared their plan lacked a great deal of thought toward contingencies.
“So next time you tease me for forgetting what busses are, I’m just gonna bring this up - ”
“Shut your face,” Alex laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder, making Willie giggle. “This isn't even close to that. Anyway, I guess we would just have to come up with a new plan. I mean, no one would even know we came tonight as long as we don’t get caught.”
Willie placed his on Alex’s back assuringly and for a moment they simply shared a look of hope. His hand slowly trailed from his back and held the side of his face, gently rubbing his thumb along Alex’s cheek.
“We’ll find them,” he insisted softly. Placing his hand over Willie’s, Alex’s eyes emanated gratitude and he gave a small smile.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, returning the tender tone he’d been given. Shrugging casually,  Willie shut the last drawer, making sure everything remained as it had before. He trailed Alex as they headed back out and almost immediately clashed into the other three boys.
“So we’re thinking it’s in...the office,” Luke told them.
“The office?” Alex asked in disbelief, apparently understanding what that meant. All the guys looked at each other with uncertainty, none more than Willie himself.
“The office?” he repeated. “Is that supposed to mean, like, Caleb’s, or something?”
“You guessed it,” Bobby replied, gesturing toward him dejectedly. “And it’s the one that Luke definitely doesn’t have a key for. So unless you’re good at picking locks, we came here for nothing.”
Willie wasn’t sure what it was, but at hearing Bobby say that it was like lightning struck in his mind. Sitting back on his heels, he looked between each of the guys, landing his gaze on Alex last.
“Actually, I think I can,” he told them seriously. “I’m not sure, but...I don’t know how, but I think I know this.”
“That’s a better chance than none at all,” Luke said with the slightest hint of confidence. “Anyone got something we could use?”
“Ope!” Reggie immediately began digging into the pocket of his pants and shortly procured a bobby pin. As everyone stared in bewilderment, he merely shrugged. “I had to do my sister’s hair this morning; I think it turned out pretty okay.”
“Alright, well hand it over,” Luke demanded. Reggie passed it to Willie and they all gathered around the door of Caleb’s office.
Kneeling and licking his lip, Willie concentrated on placing the bobby pin correctly into the lock, pressing his ear against the door and listening as he slowly turned the pin back and forth. A couple minutes of distilled silence passed as everyone held their breath, watching him carefully work with the lock until they all heard a satisfying click and Willie cracked a wicked smile. The whole band exhaled in relief as he turned the handle and pulled the door back.
“Come here,” Alex said, pulling him into a quick kiss with both hands before venturing into the room. A very twitter-pated giggle let loose from Willie’s throat that he tried not to dwell on because of how embarrassing it must have sounded. Reggie smirked as he passed them, nodding in approval.
“Awww, yes!” Luke cried as he found what he’d been looking for: the master copies of their newly finished album. According to Alex, the mixing and rendering had only been finalized a couple days before and they had more of Caleb’s stamp of approval on them than anything close to their songs. They couldn’t finish ruining his business without them. This was only half of their plan, anyhow.
As Luke filled his hands with the precious records in victory, an alarm immediately began blaring into everyone’s ears. They all looked around in panic before they all rushed toward the back door of the studio again, hands over their ears.
“Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!” Luke repeated, clutching the masters to his chest.
While they were almost out the door, Reggie stopped as he caught sight of the recording booth again, an odd look in his eye.
“Reggie, come on, we’ve gotta go!” Bobby called to him.
“No, I’ve gotta do this!” Reggie shouted back, heading inside the booth. Willie watched in confusion as he unbuckled his jeans while leaning with his back against the glass of the booth. He lowered the back of them until he could press his entire rear end up to the window, trying his best to make a print in the glass. Bobby sighed in exasperation and shook his head as he rushed to get behind the wheel of his van.
Reggie finally left the window, struggling to pull his jeans back up as he hurried toward the van again. Alex stood back as he climbed into the same seat that he’d had before, and then made to clamber inside himself before bright lights illuminated them from behind. Turning and raising an arm so he couldn’t be blinded, Willie stood petrified at what he saw.
Caleb Covington stepped out of his vehicle, a look of fury that struck his very core. Suddenly, Willie could feel flames beginning to devour him, and the way the man had leered over him in his dream made his blood freeze. He’d once been completely trusting of this same creep who had his gaze fixed on him with pure hatred. He could hear the pounding on the glass. He could also hear the sound of his name.
“Willie!” Alex tugged on him harshly, dragging him backwards into the van and slamming the door shut before Willie even realized what had happened. Snapping out of his trance, he looked up as Alex was gripping his hands tightly and Bobby floored it out of the back of the alley. He couldn’t help but stare back toward the fading headlights where Caleb’s figure was still silhouetted in a desperate stagger, and he thought he heard that same cry of rage.
He felt a sensation on his hands and looked down to see Alex planting a kiss on his whitened knuckles, rubbing them over with his hand. His face was full of concern, and a bit of his own fear mirrored back. They kept wary eyes out the back window of the van, but ultimately didn’t see Caleb following them. After a few blocks, Willie finally felt he could let go of the breath he’d had trapped in his lungs and pressed his forehead against Alex’s. That had been terrifyingly close, but they’d made it out. That’s what mattered.
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i8jisoo · 4 years
Note
hi, can you do a got7 reaction of you wanting to wait till marriage to have sex please? 💕
𝐆𝐎𝐓𝟕 ⇉ got7 with a s/o who is waiting until marriage 
got7 x reader | reactions
↬ genre; fluff 
↬ warnings; cursing & sexual themes + the word sex so
↬ notes; i thought of april kepner when i saw this LOL but thank you for requesting!!
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mark
things were honestly going slow, you and mark had never really felt like heating up things between each-other. up until you guys did, both of you two coming back home after a night out and mark had your back pressed against the couch, his hands tangled with a grip of your hair. his breathing was heavy, totally in control of you. so when your hand made it to press against his chest, mark pulling back from your neck, littered with love bites that were forming into purple marks. he was confused, looking at you for an answer. you sighed, mark sliding into the spot next to you, still eager after the passionate kisses you two shared.
“i’m waiting.” you uttered, mark still confused, then he put two and two together. “oh. oh! until marriage, yeah, should’ve thought about that.” he mumbled, sighing afterwards. “it’s alright,” he lays his head back and pulls an arm around you, “won’t be long until i do seal the deal. what ring d’ya have in mind?” he smiled, looking at your hand.
he’s sweet about it, from then on making sure you are okay with him kissing you or any other type of action. he’ll ask, you groaning and going ahead with it, mark literally just melting at that point. he definitely will be excited to finally put a ring on your finger and give you the best night of your life, ever. 
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jaebeom
he was wondering when you would take it to the next level with him, not knowing if you were too nervous or felt uncomfortable with him. he would feel insecure whenever you left him hanging, heading out for the night whenever he tried to take it another notch higher.
you sat down with him about it, explaining that your beliefs were with waiting until marriage, you saw it as the proper way. he understood, nodding. he may have seen put off a bit by your answer, but he would soon become relieved that you were actually interested in him.
another worrier, always worrying whether you were okay with what he was doing. “this is okay, right?” he asked, his tone gentle with you. you smiled, grateful that he was so kind about this. you nodded, “it’s perfect, you’re good.” you murmur, leaning back into the kiss.
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jackson
you were upfront about it, bringing it up on the first date before proceeding to continue a relationship. now jackson wang is many things, but one thing is that he gets flustered at the word sex. so when you started to talk about bedroom duties, jackson couldn’t help but choke on his water that he was sipping on. he had to make sure he heard you correctly.
“you— haha, what?” he’d be so confused, looking at you with wide eyes and a blank face. you smiled, “i’m waiting, until marriage. i thought it should be something you know, most don’t really want to.. wait, for me.” you confessed, slightly embarrassed you were basically telling jackson — jackson wang, a celebrity — you were indeed a virgin.
he’d continue going on dates with you, but he made it so very hard to resist. this boy would constantly tell you things, very graphic things, but he’d also be impossibly sweet about it. he’d tell you how he wanted to marry you, how he definitely wanted to, but he’d kill the mood after switching to dirty talk rather than the suave casanova tone he was putting on.
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jinyoung
jinyoung would definitely notice you avoided his touch, along with kisses on your neck. so he asked about it, it made him a little insecure that you were avoiding his love. anyways, he’d be in car with you, him in the passengers seat. his hand would grab yours that was resting on your right, looking at you.
“are you.. nervous.. around me?” jinyoung asks, your eyes looking at him before turning back to the road ahead. he notices your breath hitching, before your head rapidly shook. “no, i— i’m waiting, alright?” you uttered, jinyoung immediately clicking with what those words meant. “oh, you’re waiting.. okay. that’s cool! y’know my mom wanted the same for me, but i also was never good at listening.” jinyoung teases, you laughing and letting the air clear with lighthearted jokes.
“so i can do this right?” he murmurs, leaning forward over the center console, smirking at you. his lips made contact with yours, your head turning to melt into the kiss. he hadn’t felt your lips in awhile, he definitely knew now that you were a keeper.
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youngjae
i honestly don’t think he’s that experienced, if i’m being honest, but i see him being very needy. he probably has had maybe three partners before you, but i don’t see him having much in-bed time with those people. that however doesn’t hold his back from being forward with you. so he’s just like, well you’re there, so he’ll proceed to straddle you. youngjae is sloppy with it, kissing you before you stop him. 
“alright, i think i need to be a little more honest.” you mumble, youngjae still trying to kiss you. you held his face steady, cupping his cheeks. he’s staring at you, his eyes almost puppy dog like after you had pulled him away. you smile, “i’m waiting until marriage, i just.. it’s been a firm thing since i was young, i’d love.. you know, but not.. no.” you explained nervously. 
“so what can we get married in vegas or something? would that work?” youngjae asked, looking at you, dead serious. you laugh, shaking your head. “if you asked me now, i’d say yes, but let’s stick to traditional.” you replied, youngjae huffing. 
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bambam
it was a long debate between you two, as to why in a year of dating, you two hadn’t slept together once. he summed up all conclusions as to why you had never slept with him, questioning if you were insecure or if maybe you weren’t that into him. you watched him pace in front of you, sitting on the couch. 
“oh my god are you scared because you’re a virgin? i can fix that no problem.” he says confidently, your eyes widening. you sputter out a, “what? no. no!” bambam looking at you, exasperated. “then why don’t you wanna sleep with me!” you sighed, “okay, yes. i’m a virgin, but i’m waiting!! i’m waiting til’ marriage, i just don’t wanna make it a big deal.” you explained, looking at bambam who was trying not to break out into a laugh.
your hands covered your face, embarrassed, bambam kneeling in front of you to move them from your heated face. he smiles, laughing. “wow, you’re- well, gives me more of a reason to marry you.” he holds onto you hands, his thumb running over your ring finger.
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yugyeom
yugyeom would honestly agree with you, despite having partners before you. he was kind about it when he found out about you, telling you about his first and joking about it. he didn’t find his first to be pleasant, definitely his lack of experience and the sloppiness he put into it being the negative side of it. he’d listen to you explain, consuming the words.
“oh yeah no, my first time sucked!” he laughed, you shaking your head. “that’s why my first time, i’d want it to be with you, but married of course. it needs to go to someone special and i mean.. i think you’re someone special.” you answer in honesty, looking at yugyeom who was obviously excited at your words. 
“really?” he asks, his lips parted and his eyes full of surprise. you nod, giggling as you look towards him with a smile. your confession was just so heartfelt, it was innocent. he could care less about your first time together, as long as you kept up with giving him butterflies daily, it didn’t matter.
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Two Points Higher | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic
WC: 5380
A/N: I started binging Criminal Minds last week and I’m already on season 5... Spencer Reid is precious and my asexual heart needed some platonic fluff so I wrote it myself. 
Warnings: fluff, interrogation, mentions of murder
Having Spencer Reid show up at your office was not an unusual occurrence. Having Spencer Reid show up at your office in the middle of the night with another FBI agent on his heels was.
“See I told you they’d be here,” Spencer almost tripped over a box of records by the door with the speed of which he burst in.
“I get it, I’m married to my job,” you rolled your eyes, not looking up from your computer, “what’s up?”
“(y/n), this is Agent Derek Morgan,” he gestured to the man behind him as he spoke. Spencer pulled up his usual chair in front of your desk and started rummaging in his bag.
“If you can find a seat you’re welcome to take it,” you smiled at Morgan, who was watching Spencer intently.
“We need your help,” Spencer pulled out a stack of photos.
“Spence, I have work to do,” you chided, though you pushed aside what you were working on to take the photos from him.
“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Please?”
“You’re not really asking,” Agent Morgan finally cracked a smile at your comment, “I don’t see how I can help you though, these are neat crime scene photos but I’m not in the FBI.” As you observed the images Spencer stood up again, haphazardly pulling books off of your shelves and piling them on his now vacant seat.
“You missed it. Look again,” you scanned the images again, scrutinizing every detail. This time you noticed it, pulling each image closer to your face to really take in what you were seeing.
“Those are my labels. Why are my labels on human bodies?” Spencer pulled one last book off the shelf and started thumbing through it.
His voice was soft this time, as his eyes met yours, “we don’t know.”
You didn’t normally see Spencer when he was working a case like this, something about him seemed different.
“How can I help?”
“The rest of the team is on the way. Have you talked to anyone about your collections recently? Told them how you label and research?”
“The only one I’ve talked to about it is you, but it’s not exactly an industry secret. Anyone who has looked at the exhibits has seen my labels, people just don’t usually care about them.”
Spencer and Morgan exchanged a look, then Morgan stepped out to make a phone call while Spencer filled you in on the next course of action. The rest of the team would be using your office as a field station while they tried to figure out why the unsub would make exact copies of  your labels.
“Have you known Reid long?”  A blonde woman who Spencer introduced as JJ asked.
“Since preschool,” you recalled.
“(y/n) was the only other kid in class who could read,” Spencer commented from the adjoining collections room where he was poking around for signs of entry.
“Spencer was the only other kid in class who could remember dinosaur names, we made quite the pair until he graduated.”
“You only graduated two years after me.”
“Enough to get you ahead by two doctorates and a bachelors,” you shot back.
“What’s in the water over in Vegas?” Morgan commented, shooting Spencer a look when he started rattling off the exact contents of the water and how it definitely did not affect the development of your brains.
It was already the early hours of the morning, so it was decided that any investigating would wait until a more reasonable hour. The team mostly acquainted themselves with your space, finding places to work, sleep, or follow up on leads. Even Spencer was moving around, restlessly conversing with his colleagues. You kept to yourself at your desk, busying yourself with the bone you were looking at. The research was comfortable, though the background noise wasn’t.
“You should get some sleep,” Spencer said quietly to you after a few hours, leaning over your shoulder to observe the notes you were making. It felt oddly normal, considering the circumstances.
“I’m on to something here, I want to finish this first,” you turned to the next page in your notebook.
“I’m going to go nap in the other room then, wake me up if you need anything, ok?” you looked up at him with a soft smile and nodded. He went into the break room across the hall, laying down on the old couch. You watched after him for a minute then turned back to your work. A few minutes later, JJ sat down in front of your desk.
“Do you spend a lot of time together?”
“If he’s not working with you, he’s with me. I’m almost always here which is why he knows where all of the good sleeping spots are,” you smirked.
“What are you working on?”
“We don’t have any records on this bone, so I do the research and get as much information as I can about it. My official title is ‘Collections Curator’ but Spencer says I’m just as much a profiler as he is.”
“Have you ever thought about joining the Bureau?”
“Spence tried to convince me… once,” you chuckled lightly at the memory, “I like my job, it’s a lot lower stakes than what you do. I don’t need a gun, just some research material and my brain.”
“It does seem… still down here,” JJ observed.
“Our collections are stored down here so it’s all climate controlled. These rooms were free so I asked if I could trade my upstairs office for a collections research suite. Did you know that 80% of a museum’s collection isn’t displayed? The exhibits you see upstairs are only 20% of the entire collection,” you stopped talking when you noticed a change in her expression, “sorry, I’m rambling.”
JJ smiled kindly, “I can see why you’re friends with Reid.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without him growing up. It’s easier to be a kid genius when there’s another kid to be a genius with, makes you feel less alone. He’s always been more competitive though, tougher, too.”
“Why am I not surprised you’re also a genius?”
“I try not to flaunt it, unlike Spencer. If it wasn’t for his eidetic memory we’d have the same number of degrees,” you smirked.
“He’s different with you,” Morgan had stepped into the room and was poking through your stuffed shelves.
“Like I said, it’s easier to be a genius when you have someone else who gets it. Spencer and I don’t talk about what you do in the field, but I see what he looks like when he comes back from traveling. I do my best to make this a space where he can be a genius without all the crime and someone that he can just be himself with.”
“Having a support system is good. He needs one.”
“You said he’s different with me, but he’s also different with you. His behavior is consistent with when he was trying to plan a surprise for my birthday last year, except its a stressful secret not an exciting one.”
“I need to hear the birthday story later, when this is all over. You’re good at noticing details,” Morgan commented. You noticed the way both Morgan and JJ shifted nervously.
“I have to be, that’s how I do my research. One detail can open up a whole string of possibilities, but you all know that. At first I thought it just had to do with him being in the middle of a case, I’ve only seen him a handful of times when he’s working.”
“But?” Morgan’s question was leading, they knew you knew they were hiding something.
“This is the first time he’s ever come into my office wearing his gun.”
There was a pause during which you noticed both agents’ eyes soften.
“I’m no FBI agent, but if dead bodies were showing up with museum labels specific to one curator I would start by questioning the curator. None of you have acted like I’m guilty at all. Why?”
“Reid gave us your alibi and confirmed it all in one breath. The local police still want to bring you in, but they’re having trouble finding you. Reid knew where you were and wanted to get ahead of them, solve this before you were falsely accused.”
“They probably ended up at my apartment. I spend most of my time here, but I keep that lease for storage and other things. Not many people know I practically live here. Do either of you want coffee?” you took off the latex gloves you were wearing as you stood up. They shook their heads with a murmured ‘thanks’.
They started whispering behind you as you walked across the hall to the room where your best friend was spread out on the couch. You paused as you passed him, gently brushing a piece of hair from his face before continuing on to the kitchenette. Leaning against the counter, your gaze fell once again on Spencer as you waited for the coffee to brew. He slowly stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before standing up and joining you by the counter.
“You’re still working?”
“Have to make progress on my own projects while we’re waiting, before your case consumes my workday,” you bumped your elbow into him.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“Hey, someone is using my specimen labels for murder victims. That’s not ok, my labels should be for museum collections only. I appreciate you telling me. I don’t appreciate whatever secret you and your team are keeping from me.”
“It’s characteristic for unsubs like this to have a fantasy… an unhealthy idolization that’s expressed in the victimology,” he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously. You thought for a minute as you poured a cup of coffee for yourself and your best friend.
“You think the unsub fantasizes about me.”
“We don’t know for certain. Two of the victims seem random, but three of them have an uncanny resemblance… and the labels…”
“Is that why you came to my office instead of just calling me for more information?” you leaned into his side, gripping your coffee.
“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he pressed a kiss into your hair and wrapped his arms around you.
“It’s not your fault this is happening. You live your life and I live mine,” you took a sip of your drink.
“You only leave this basement to buy groceries and do laundry. Statistically you’re only seen by a small fraction of people in this city and somehow you’ve been targeted by someone who’s now going around killing people.”
“Statistically, the unsub could have seen anyone who lives in this city, including me. It’s not your fault,” you repeated, “you could have told me though, genius.”
Spencer cracked a tired smile, “didn’t want to scare you more than necessary.”
“You’re a better person than me.”
“You’re smarter than me,” he retorted.
“That’s why you’re a better person. That’s how you can do the job that you do. If I had to interact with strangers every day I’d implode.”
“Spontaneous implosion isn’t possible,” you rolled your eyes at his comment. Before you could respond he spoke again, “I love you.”
His words caught you off guard, not because you didn’t return the feeling but because they never needed to be said. You knew from the way his eyes lit up when he read your notes and how he always made you another coffee when he got one for himself. You had spent practically your whole lives together and you genuinely cared about him in a way you knew was reciprocated. You considered this boy family more than most of your blood relatives. Still, with everything going on it had to be said.
“I love you too, Spencer.”
You stood with his arms around you until the coffee in your hands went cold.
“I need to make sure your friend Derek isn’t messing up my office. Sorry I woke you up,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping away. When you made it to the hallway you started walking down towards the largest collection room instead of your office.
“Agent Hotchner? Do you have a minute?” You knocked on the doorframe of the large room that the agent had set up in.
“Of course, is everything ok?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Spencer. I know he’s supposed to be protecting me, but he’s also my best friend. He would put himself in danger- he’s expecting to put himself in danger for me. With all due respect, sir, I know you’re trying to do a job but please promise me that you’ll keep Spencer safe too.”
“You don’t have to call me sir,” he said as you sat down in front of him.
“I don’t usually get myself into situations this stressful. My brain is rationalizing by flagging you as an authority figure. I know you’re not my boss but it’s easing my anxiety to think of you as one.”
Hotch looked at you calmly, a small smile on his lips, “I should have known Reid’s best friend would also be a genius.”
“My IQ is two points higher than his…sir,” it felt odd, joking with this man during such a stressful time.
“Reid is family to us too. We won’t let anything happen to him.”
“Spencer said that the unsub had a fantasy about me, and that’s why he was using my labels,” since your conversation with Spencer, your brain had been reeling for information.
“He asked that we didn’t tell you,” you sighed at his words.
“Of course he did. Now that I know, what information do you need? How can I be more helpful?”
“Reid asked you some questions when he got here,” you nodded, “if you’re up for it, I’d like to get the team together and ask you for more details.”
“Anything that helps,” your answer was definite, so Hotch rounded up the team with the exception of Spencer.
“Shouldn’t Reid be here?” Emily asked when you were all crammed into your office.
“I don’t want him… interfering. I don’t like biased research,” you told her.
“Then I guess we’ll get started. How exactly do you create the labels for your specimens?” Derek started the questioning.
“They’re printed on a specific cardstock that I get on special order. They’re all made down here, by me. I’m also the only one who handles the specimens, I don’t even let Spencer touch them.”
“Are there any other employees that work down here? Custodians, other curators?”
“What are you doing?” Your answer was interrupted by Spencer standing in the doorway holding two cups of coffee, in your respective favorite mugs.
“We’re doing research,” you spoke before any of your friend’s colleagues could.
“This looks like an interrogation,” Spencer came to stand behind you protectively, setting both cups down in front of you.
“I asked for this meeting, Spence. I want to help.”
“You should have told me,” he leaned closer to your ear, talking quietly so the rest of the team couldn’t hear. You didn’t usually see your friend this upset.
“Nobody comes down here regularly except for Spencer and I. It’s not open to the public, so anyone else needs a personal invite. Usually that’s when we’re changing exhibits, but everyone who helped me most recently has done it before. If it was one of them they would have killed before the first victim, right?” Derek nodded.
“Nobody else has been here in the last two months?” he repeated. You laughed half heartedly,
“I don’t have much of a social life. The only people I talk to are Spencer, the cashier at the grocery store, and Tim if I see him,” you added the last one as an afterthought.
“Tim?” Spencer stopped fuming by your side when your words piqued his interest.
“He teaches a museum history class at the community college in the city. They come by once a semester and tour the museum. You met him, remember?” Spencer averted his eyes from his team.
“I wouldn’t count that as a meeting,” you fought back a smile, recounting the way Spencer ran past the group of college kids as he tried not to let his severe hangover make him late for work.
“Tell me more about Tim, are you close?” Rossi refocused the meeting.
“No, just friendly. We email to schedule the tour, but it’s always professional. I see him at the grocery store most weeks, but it’s usually just an exchange of pleasantries.”
“How do you run into someone at the grocery store most weeks in a city like this?” Emily asked.
“I always go grocery shopping on Friday afternoons, from three to four. Spencer tells me I shouldn’t be so predictable but I work so much I have to schedule it in otherwise I forget. Tim must have the same schedule.”
“Have you seen Tim recently?”
“Now that I think about it, no. The last time I saw him was two weeks after the tour. He asked if I had dinner plans. That was the night we had tacos,” you bumped elbows with Spencer.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I was making dinner for Spencer. You were all coming back from a trip, Spencer always comes over for dinner when you come home. I know I’m predictable but he’s never missed a dinner.”
“What was his reaction like when he heard you were making dinner for Reid?”
“He looked a little upset. I remember noticing it and thinking it was weird, but at the time I rationalized it. I’m not great at interacting with people. You don’t think Tim did this, do you? He’s really nice, always good with the kids. He asks a lot of questions because the kids don’t- oh God,” your eyes widened when you realized what you were saying. The office exploded in activity, with every agent moving to take action. Even Spencer moved, grabbing your arm and pulling you back across the hall into the break room. You noticed the way his hand was nervously on his gun.
“What happens next?”
“We don’t know for sure that it’s him yet. Garcia will cross check him against the profile. If it’s him, we’ll find him and lock him up. If it’s not… then we’re back to square one.”
“You seem more on edge than for it to be that simple,” you observed.
“Up until the most recent tour, Tim was able to admire you from afar. He saw you every week at the grocery store, and twice a year got to come down here to your personal paradise and see what you were doing. That was good enough for him until he saw me leaving here. That was the stressor. He suspected that we were… uh…”
“Dating?”
“Yeah. He tried to confirm it by asking about dinner two weeks later. It was coincidence that I was coming over that night. That was all he needed to kill out of rage.”
“You aren’t still blaming yourself for this, are you? Tim never asked if we were together. He never asked if I was with anyone at all. If he had this could have gone a lot differently. It’s his fault for assuming, not ours.”
Spencer put a hand on your back gently, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be reassuring you.”
As you rolled your eyes and told him it didn’t matter, Morgan stepped into the room.
“We’re heading out to catch this guy. Prentiss and JJ are staying, Garcia is watching the security cameras at all the entrances. Are you staying or going?” Morgan’s question was directed at Spencer. He thought for a minute, you knew he was considering the possibilities. If he stayed he could protect you personally, and he would also be protecting himself. If he went, he could personally take down the person who wanted to harm you and could be a good lure, but there was also a chance he would be targeted.
“I’ll stay. Keep me posted,” Morgan nodded, casting you a glance before running out.
“Now we wait,” Spencer rocked back on his heels, “will you show me that bone you were working on?” You were surprised he wanted to go back to business as usual, but maybe that was just it. You both needed a distraction from all of the chaos happening above ground without you. You went back to your office where Emily and JJ were. Their conversation paused when you stepped in.
“(y/n) and I are going to work on identifying this bone, there’s coffee across the hall if you want it,” Spencer said to the women.
“Thanks for staying,” you added, earning kind sympathetic looks from them as they stepped out.
“So, a long bone?” Spencer took one look at the fragment on your desk.
“Wow, he’s a genius,” you teased, sitting down, “here’s what I’ve got so far-”
You and Spencer spent hours researching. JJ and Emily popped in occasionally, but you were too engrossed in your work to see the amused glances exchanged between them as you bantered with your best friend. Spencer was trying really hard to keep things normal for you and this side of his genius, the way you fed off of each other’s stream of consciousness, was not something his coworkers usually got to witness.  
Two hours into your work Spencer’s phone rang, causing you both to startle.
“Hotch,” he was quiet as he listened to the agent on the other end of the line, “yeah, uh, yeah we’ll be right there,” he hung up and turned to you.
“They got him, but there was no real proof. They’re interrogating him now, they want us there to help.”
“Us?” you followed him out of the office as he went to find Emily and JJ.
“He’s not talking, Hotch thinks he might break for me…”
“Or me…” you finished the thought for him. The car ride was tense, and even with Spencer by your side you felt very out of place. Spencer made sure you were next to him even through the whirlwind that happened when you got to the interrogation room. Through the glass you saw Morgan talking to Tim, though Tim wasn’t doing much talking.
“(y/n), would you feel comfortable going in and talking to him? Morgan will be there too, he’ll keep you safe,” Rossi asked.
Before Spencer could protest you nodded and squared your shoulders.
“Of course. What do I need to do?”
“Morgan will do most of the questioning. You just need to get him talking.”
You took a breath and stepped into the room, watching the relief on Tim’s face when you did.
“(y/n), I’m so glad you’re here. This is all just a misunderstanding. I’m not the guy they’re looking for.”
“It’s not up to me to decide that, Tim.”
“You’re here to tell them it wasn’t me, right?”
“They’ve already told us everything we need to know. You’re still talking to me,” Morgan said, pulling Tim’s attention away from you.
“Then why are they here? I see the way you all carry those guns around, it’s too dangerous,” Tim said.
“Too dangerous for who?” Morgan pressed.
“For (y/n).”
“So you care about them, are you close?” you watched Tim’s reaction.
“Very, you can ask me anything about them, I know it all,” he was confident in his answer. Morgan glanced at you and you gave him a small nod.
“What does (y/n) do for work?”
“They’re the Collections Curator at the museum. They spend all of their time there, except on Fridays when they go grocery shopping,” Tim was enthusiastic in his answer, and looked to you for validation. You nodded gently, encouraging him.
“How do you know that?” Morgan leaned forward a bit.
“My class has been touring the collections suite for years. That’s how we met, then I ran into them at the grocery store and we got to talking,” Morgan nodded, pausing for a moment.
“I guess you are close. Since you know so much, this will probably be an easy one. What is (y/n)’s boyfriend’s name?” you tensed, waiting for the answer.
“Spencer. He’s tall, I’ve only seen him once,” he grumbled.
“(y/n), you can tell him,” Morgan said, keeping his eyes on the handcuffed man in front of you.
“Tim, I don’t have a boyfriend,” your words were soft. Tim’s eyes narrowed.
“You do! I saw him, that’s why we can’t be together!” he started to sweat under the harsh light.
“He’s just my friend, Tim. You never asked,” you were trying your hardest to stay composed.
“I did ask! You said you were having dinner together! He was good enough for you to have dinner with, I KILLED FOR YOU. DIDN’T YOU SEE, I LABELED THEM JUST LIKE YOU DO. I DID THAT FOR YOU. HE WOULD NEVER,” Tim’s outburst caused him to stand up and lunge across the table at you. Derek simultaneously pushed you back and pushed him down, you weren’t really sure how. Tim was still thrashing around and yelling all sorts of things you were sure were going to incarcerate him, but above the noise Morgan was able to speak.
“That’s all we need. Thank you, (y/n).”
When you stepped out of the interrogation room you moved immediately into Spencer’s arms, like gravity was pulling you into the one person you felt safest with.
“You’re ok. It’s ok. We’re ok,” he kept repeating.
“Spencer,” you mumbled into the material of his sweater. His words stopped so he could listen, “he seemed so normal.”
“I know, I know.”
“Do they always seem normal?” Spencer sighed, you felt his chest move with the breath.
“No, not always.” You felt his muscles tense as he held you tighter. He went back to repeating his mantra of reassurance as you caught sight of two police officers escorting Tim out of the interrogation room.
“Reid, Hotch wants to see you,” Emily approached the two of you once the room had cleared.
“Go, I’m alright,” you told him, stepping out of his embrace. He kissed the top of your head before leaving you alone with Emily.
“You did a great job in there,” she said as you walked back to the bullpen.
“It didn’t feel like it,” you told her honestly, “I’ve known Tim for years, he was always so nice to me. He never seemed…capable… but the way he yelled…”
“I know. It’s over now, though. Is there anything we can get for you? Coffee?” you sat down at Spencer’s desk, feeling exhaustion wash over you.
“No, thanks. I think I’m just going to go back to the museum. I have some work there that needs some attention. Do you think Spencer could drive me? I’m not awake enough to take public transportation.”
“I’m driving, but we’re not going to the museum,” Spencer loped over from Hotch’s office, grabbing his jacket and bag from the back of his chair.
“What? Why not?”
“You’re coming back to my apartment. Hotch’s orders, you’re not allowed to argue.”
As much as you wanted to, you decided not to put up a fight and instead got into the Bureau vehicle with your best friend. It was quiet as he drove, you wanted to say something but you didn’t know what the right words would be to describe how thankful you were to have him in your life. The silence continued until you were inside, when Spencer offered you something to eat.
“Are you sure?” he asked from the kitchen when you declined. You were by his bookshelves, running your finger down the spines of the many books he owned. Even though most of the time you spent with Spencer was in the museum, you had been to his apartment before on multiple occasions. You had never been there long enough to read his large collection of books, though you wished you had the time because you always trusted Spencer’s book recommendations.
“I’m sure. Thanks, though,” you paused to pull a Chaucer book off the shelf, “why did Hotch want me to come home with you?”
“He wanted you somewhere safe and comfortable, where you can process what happened without being completely alone. I know you wanted to go back to the museum but I also know what you’re like when you’re working and going back to work isn’t going to help you process what just happened. I thought coming here would give you a chance to eat and sleep,” he took the book out of your hands and put it back in its place.
“Is it that obvious?” you were having a hard time keeping your eyelids open. Spencer laughed lightly.
“It is, you should get some rest. I’ll be right out here, I have to finish this report,” he gestured to the folder he had brought home. You nodded, padding over to the bedroom. As soon as you crossed the threshold you could feel your distance from Spencer, who was leaning against the counter scratching away at the file with a pen.
“Spencer?” he turned to you quickly, his eyebrows mashing together in concern.
“Is that report kitchen specific, or could you do it in here?” his face softened. He left the file abandoned where it was on the counter as he rushed over to you. He helped you into bed, before sitting at the opposite end and settling by your feet.
“I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe now,” he put a hand on your leg. The pressure was reassuring, to say the least, and you found yourself easily slipping into sleep underneath Spencer’s quilt.
When you woke, Spencer was still at the end of the bed with a book in his hands. His feet, clad in mismatched socks, were crossed by your shoulder. You gently prodded at his foot, causing him to twitch and look up from what he was reading.
“You’re awake,” he smiled, putting the book down beside him. You sat up and stretched out your arms.
“You’re still here,” you smirked.
“It’s my apartment,” his quip was light and gentle.
“You’re right, I should get back to the museum,” you started to get up, but Spencer put a hand on your foot.
“Stay here for a while. You work too much, some time off would be good for you.”
“You work just as much as I do, genius. I’m not going to loiter in your apartment while you’re off fighting crime.”
“Hotch is letting me stay home for a few days. If an urgent case comes up I’ll help remotely, but I’m not leaving you.”
“Spence, you don’t have to-“
“I want to, (y/n). You’re my best friend who just went through a traumatic experience. Your family is 2,431 miles away, but even if they were closer you wouldn’t spend time with them. You said it yourself, I’m the only one you talk to regularly. I’m not going to abandon you now.”
“Haven’t we talked about you profiling me?” Spencer blushed.
“That wasn’t a profile, just information.”
“Sure,” you yawned.
“Go back to sleep, you still have some catching up to do.”
“You’re keeping track?” you asked, though you laid back down to get more comfortable.
“It’s simple subtraction, (y/n). I don’t need a PhD in mathematics to know you have slept far less than is healthy for the last three days,” he picked up the book again, finding the place where he left off.
“What are you reading?” his eyes flickered up to meet yours again.
“Dickens, Great Expectations.”
“You’ve read that one before,” you commented, surprised he didn’t have more to say on the subject.
“I have. I thought you might like it, I was just passing the time while you were sleeping. I can read it to you, if you want. It always made me feel better when my mom read to me.”
“I’d really like that,” you settled deeper into the pillow, listening to your friend’s voice as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time since Spencer had burst into your office, you finally felt content.
339 notes · View notes
katelyn--renee · 4 years
Text
This Is Crazy, Isn’t It?
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Title: This Is Crazy, Isn’t It?
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester (Mentioned) 
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Words:  ± 2000
Description: The trio enjoy a night out in Las Vegas. Things don’t go quite as expected.
Written For: @anyfandomgoesbingo​ - Square Filled: Accidental Marriage
Warnings: Fluff, Stranger Danger, Mentions of Alcohol Use, Hints of Smut and gets a bit smutty towards the end.
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. :) I don’t own any of the characters or gifs used. :) As usual, there was no beta, so all mistakes are my own. 
Please leave feedback, like, share, or whatever. It gives me life and motivation! Thank you loves!
As always, thanks for the awesome dividers @talesmaniac89
​Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.
Masterlist
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The afternoon sunlight was bright and intrusive as it cascaded in through the large window overlooking the city, interrupting (Y/N)’s sleep and stirring her awake. She groaned and scrunched her face up against the unwelcome light, her nose wrinkling with discomfort. 
Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding painfully - courtesy of all the alcohol she and the Winchester brother’s had consumed the night before. They’d been out celebrating Dean’s birthday and naturally, he’d insisted they go to Vegas for a night of fun. 
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Now, as fun as it may have been at the time, her body was definitely regretting her choices. 
With another groan, she tried to roll away from the source of the sunlight and yanked the covers over her head, shifting on the mattress to face the other direction. The comforter was fluffy and heavenly, wrapping her into a cocoon of warmth. Her body connected with something solid beside her and she froze, having not expected the sudden skin on skin contact. 
Her (Y/E/C) eyes shot open wide and she gasped in surprise as she looked beside her, eyeing the naked man she currently shared a bed with. She withdrew herself, nearly falling out of bed in her haste to get away from the stranger.
She hugged the covers close when she realized her clothes were also missing, covering her bare chest as best as she could. She stared at the man with wide eyes, trying to put a name to the shaggy brown hair. Upon further inspection, she soon realized that the man in her bed wasn’t a stranger at all… It was Sam.
Sam fucking Winchester. 
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She brought a shaky hand to her head and tried to recall the events from the night before, but the effort only resulted in a piercing headache and fragmented images. Her eyes wandered back to Sam - who remained unbothered, laying face down into the mattress. She studied his face in an attempt to help jog her memories, to no avail. She exhaled heavily, blowing the air from her lips in a frustrated sigh. 
The white sheet was draped over his bare ass, contrasting heavily with his sun bronzed skin. She couldn’t help but let her eyes scan over his naked form, traveling up the length of his muscular back and strong shoulders. She traced every dip and curve along the planes of his back, her breath hitching in her chest. He had his large arms folded beneath his head, tucked under his pillow while he slept.
(Y/N) felt her heart flutter with excitement and her cheeks grew warm and darkened in color, something inside of her stirring and building at the sight of him. She shifted a little and chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes taking in his peaceful expression. It wasn’t often she saw a Winchester so relaxed, especially Sam. It was a refreshing sight. She almost didn’t want to wake him.
A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, despite the situation she found herself in. What the hell happened last night? She tore her gaze away from the youngest Winchester and began to search the room for some answers, scanning over the discarded beer bottles and nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels next to the sofa. The sight of it made her stomach flip and turn. She wouldn’t be drinking any of that for a while.
Another groan left her and she had to shut her eyes to help fight off a wave of nausea. This would be the last time she’d let a Winchester talk her into drinking again. She combed a set of fingers through her tangled (Y/H/C) hair, ruffling it up a bit at the roots in an attempt to tame it after her apparently eventful night. Something snagged in the strands and she pulled her hand away to examine it further, her eyes going wide once again. 
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There, on her left hand, a delicate diamond ring sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. It wasn’t overly large or bulky and it felt out of place on her finger, but it was breathtakingly beautiful. Her eyes darted back to Sam and, regretfully moving too fast, she yanked his pillow from under his head to get a better view of his hands.
He woke with a sharp intake of air, his head jerking upward and making his vision spin. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He mumbled incoherently, still half asleep. (Y/N) ignored him and grabbed for his left hand, while also carefully keeping the blanket tucked close to her naked frame. 
Sam was confused and groggy, his face heavy with sleep. His hair was tousled and sticking up at odd angles, and if (Y/N) wasn’t already preoccupied, she would have thought he looked adorable. Though, in her eyes, Sam Winchester was always adorable. 
As suspected, there on Sam’s left hand, was a black wedding band circling his ring finger. Uh-oh. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and the blood seemed to drain from her face; what did they do?
Sam studied her face, his own filled with concern as he followed her gaze, dropping it to their hands. Realization quickly took over and a hint of a smile pulled on his lips. He shifted and took her hand in his, their fingers lacing together. 
(Y/N) was puzzled by this gesture and her eyes snapped to his, his hazel gaze overwhelming her. She felt her heart beat a little harder, a little faster, inside of her chest as she watched Sam. He moved on the mattress, his muscles flexing and shifting under his tanned skin. His weight caused the bed to shift and dip differently as he moved closer. 
She couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak. He lifted a hand and gently brushed it against her cheek, tucking away a few strands of hair. Her face burned with a blush and she found herself wanting to burrow into the covers and hide forever, but she was frozen in place, hypnotized by the beautiful man in front of her. 
“You don’t remember, do you?” He asked, his voice a bit gravely with sleep, but full of kindness and adoration. Was this really happening?
(Y/N) shook her head, still unable to find her voice. Sam smiled fondly, dimples creasing his handsome face. “I’m not surprised, we were both pretty wasted.” He laughed lightly, the sound filling her with so much joy. He rubbed circles into the back of her hand, the pad of his thumb much rougher than she’d imagined. It was nice, though, and the gesture made her chest swoon. 
“The shortened version; after Dean ditched us at the casino, we decided to check out The Strip. More alcohol was consumed, feelings were announced, lots and lots of kissing,” He flashed her his boyish grin and looked up at her through brown bangs, his own cheeks flushed with color.
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The more Sam spoke, the more blanks he filled in and the distorted images in her mind were starting to become clearer. He chuckled before continuing, “We, uh, accidentally stumbled into one of those,” He used his hands to emphasize what he was saying, “over-the-top, overly exaggerated churches,” He laughed again.
“With the Elvis impersonator. Oh god.” (Y/N) recalled and dropped her face into her palm, hiding it. They both laughed, a little embarrassed by their actions… but somehow, not regretting them. 
“Right.” Sam confirmed, a smile still adorning his face. “Well, one thing led to another and…” He held up his hand, twisting the band around with his thumb. 
The pair of them sat in silence for a moment, despite a few longing gazes and giggles, letting everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours sink in. Her eyes fell to the diamond sparkling on her finger again and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. 
“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Sam asked with care, gingerly touching her exposed knee to steal her attention. He offered her a closed lip smile for assurance, urging her to share her thoughts.
“This is crazy, right?” (Y/N) stated, the rational part of her brain taking over. Her heart couldn’t be happier, but there was no way this would actually work, right? They were drunk. Fuck, were they still drunk? Panicking, she moved to stand up, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it around her tiny frame, covering her exposed skin. 
She paced a little, padding the length of the bed and back again. “I mean… we’re married, Sam. Fucking married… man and wife… sickness, heath, death due us part… married.” 
Sam watched her, his eyes lingering over the skin he could see from where the blanket hung low, hesitating on the dimples of her lower back. “Is it though?” Sam asked from his position on the bed, stopping her in her tracks. 
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“What?” She snapped back and looked at him in bewilderment, but then quickly averted her gaze, having forgotten he was completely naked. 
“Is this really that crazy?” Sam corrected, moving to join her on the other side of the bed. 
(Y/N) didn’t notice his movement, her eyes closed with frustration. “Sam.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb.
“No, I’m serious. (Y/N/N), look at me.” He encouraged, his voice gentle. He stopped in front of her and gently caressed her cheek, before hooking his finger below her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. She couldn’t help but lean into his touch, her worries already beginning to ease. 
His large, puppy dog eyes bore into hers, making her legs feel weak. “I don’t regret our decision, however reckless it may have been.” He laughed a little, before continuing, “I haven’t been this happy in a very long time,” He said, swallowing thickly and forcing his Adam's apple to bob with the motion. 
“I am beyond crazy about you, (Y/N/N), have been for a while now and I know you feel it too… you admitted it last night.” He reminded her with a smirk, making her blush again. “I just… I fail to see how this is a bad thing. And I don’t want to.”
(Y/N) stared up at him, stunned into silence. How could this be happening? Everything she’d ever wanted to hear him say, he was saying it. Right now. Right in front of her. Sam and all his glory, was admitting that he loved her. “Well what are you waiting for, then? Kiss your wife.” She muttered, breathless.
A smile broke across Sam’s face. He didn’t need telling twice. He dipped his head and her eyes shut, her long lashes fluttering. Their lips crashed together, molding and morphing into one, as if they were meant for just that purpose. She parted her lips for him, inviting him in.
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(Y/N) felt herself moving closer to Sam, her body moving on it’s own accord, her hands releasing the blanket in her grasp as she pressed her palms firmly into his bare chest. The sheet fell into a heap around her feet, forgotten. Her hands travelled up, bracing herself with his strong shoulders as she hoisted herself higher, wanting to be closer.
He groaned and placed his large hands at her thin waist, spraying out his thick fingers and dimpling her skin. His tongue eagerly tasting the inside of her mouth, hungry. He lifted her with ease, his hands moving down to cup her ass and she responded with a moan, her legs wrapping around him. 
Sam turned toward their bed, gently laying her against the mattress while he hovered above her, careful not to put too much weight onto her. His lips left her mouth and attacked her neck instead, leaving a wet trail along her jawline, traveling down to her pulse point where he suckled gently. He nibbled at her ear, his breath hot and heavy against her flesh. She shivered beneath him. “I’m going to do more than just kiss my wife.” He promised through a lustful growl.
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Thank you for reading!! <3
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self-loving-vampire · 3 years
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Ultima VII: The Black Gate (1992)
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Ultima 7 was pretty much my introduction to RPGs, and I could not have asked for a better pair of games to ignite a lifelong passion into that genre. There is a real reason why this is still considered one of the best RPGs ever made.
While Ultima 7 is often discussed as a singular entity, it is actually two separate full-length games with one expansion each. For this post I will focus on the first one, Ultima VII: The Black Gate, as well as its expansion: Forge of Virtue.
I recommend playing the game using Exult, which adds some quality of life features (such as a feeding hotkey and a “use all keys” hotkey) as well as the option to use higher quality audio packs, implement bug fixes, and change the font into something easier on the eyes.
Summary
The protagonist of the Ultima series is “the Avatar”, a blank slate isekai protagonist from our world who has previously travelled to the world of Britannia several times and saved it from many threats, also becoming the shining paragon of the virtues meant to guide its people.
In this game, you once again cross the portal to Britannia to save it from a new and mysterious extradimensional threat. As soon as you arrive, you immediately discover two things:
1- A violent ritualistic murder has just taken place.
2- There is suspicious new organization called “The Fellowship” gaining adherents throughout the land.
It is up to you to investigate these developments.
Freedom
In terms of freedom, the Black Gate has plenty overall but there are areas where it is not quite there.
Once you can manage to get the password to get out of the locked-down town of Trinsic you are free to go nearly anywhere in the game right away and have multiple means of transportation to accomplish this, such as moongates or ships.
And there are some very real rewards to exploring like this as well, such as various treasure caches and other interesting findings. 
The world is actually very small by modern standards, especially when settlements occupy so much of it, but both the towns and the wilderness areas are dense with content.
Notably, the game also allows you to perform various activities. From stealing to making a honest living by baking bread (which is something you can do thanks to how interactive the environment is) or gathering eggs at a farm.
Where it falls short is in terms of having multiple possible solutions for quests. Generally there is only one correct option for how to complete them.
That said, there is a bad ending you might be able to find in addition to the canonical good ending.
Character Creation/Customization
This is one of the big minuses of the game. While you can select your name and gender (and with Exult also have a wider selection of portraits) that is about it for character creation.
All characters will start with the same stats and there are no character classes. You can develop your stats through training and specialize through your choice of equipment, but by the end of the Forge of Virtue expansion you will have maxed stats and the best weapon in the game (a sword) regardless, and you will definitely need to cast a few spells to progress the main quest as well.
This can make every playthrough feel much like the last, as there isn’t that much of a way to vary how your character develops or what abilities they’ll end up having. You will always be a master of absolutely everything in the end unless you go out of your way to avoid doing the Forge of Virtue expansion.
Story/Setting
While the game is a bit too obvious and heavy-handed about its villains, there are still many interesting storylines in the game that deal with mature subjects that remain relevant today, such as cults, drug abuse, workplace exploitation, and xenophobia.
However, the setting as a whole is greater than any individual storyline taking place within. With the exception of most guards and bandits, every single NPC in the game is an individual with a name, schedule, living space, and defined personality. This was not the norm in 1992 and even today there’s not many games that really implement this well. The world is also very detailed in terms of things like the services available to you, the general interactivity of the game world, and the sheer amount of things that populate every corner of it.
The initial murder is not only a strong hook for investigation but also a shocking scene in its own right. The Guardian also proves to have a significant presence as a villain, using a mental link to remotely taunt you based on the context of what is happening. For example, if your companions die he may offer you some exaggerated, mocking pity.
Immersion
There is something very interesting and comfortable about just watching the various inhabitants of a town just go about their daily lives. They work during the day, eat at certain times (either at home or at one of the many taverns in the land), and sleep at night. They don’t just strangely repeat one single action during the day either, they may do things like open windows when the weather is nice or turn candles and streetlamps on at night.
In terms of immersion, Ultima 7 is my primary example of a game that does an excellent job of it even if there’s some weirdness going on with the setting. Even after having played so many more games throughout my life, only a few are on the same level as either part of Ultima 7 when it comes to immersion.
Gameplay
There are three broad aspects to the gameplay here that I want to discuss.
The first is combat. It is actually simple enough that you can call it almost entirely automatic. You simply enable combat mode by pressing C and your party will automatically go and fight nearby hostile enemies based on whatever combat orders you have selected for them (by default, attacking the closest enemy).
This is certainly better than having an outright bad or annoying combat system as the whole process is simple and painless, but I still wish there was more depth to it. Your stats, and especially your equipment, still play a role but other than things like pausing to use items or cast spells the whole process is very uninvolved.
I kind of wish there was more depth to it, but at least the other two areas of the gameplay are reasonably good.
The next aspect of gameplay is dialogue, which uses dialogue trees for the first time in the series. Previously, it required typing in keywords, which are retained but as dialogue options you can just click on rather than remember and type.
While the keywords are not really written as natural language most of the time (requiring some imagination to determine the specifics of your dialogue), the system is very easy to use regardless. It definitely lacks depth compared to something like Fallout: New Vegas, but so do most games.
The third and most notable thing is the way you interact with the world in general. It is both extremely simple and very immersive at the same time.
Ultima 7 is a game that can be played entirely with the mouse (though keyboard hotkeys make everything much more comfortable). You can right click a space to walk there, you can left click something to identify what it is, and you can use double left click to interact.
For example, double left click over an NPC to talk to them (or attack them, if combat mode is enabled), double left click a door to open it, double left click a loaf of bread to feed it to someone, and so on.
But there is more. By holding your click over an item and dragging it, you can move it. This has various applications beyond just being how you pick things up and add them to your inventory. For example, sometimes objects may be hidden beneath other objects, or objects may need to be placed in a specific location.
There are some downsides to this system. Particularly, the issue that keeping your inventory organized can be time-consuming when it has to be done by manually dragging objects around, and this can also make looting relatively slow.
Despite this, I think this kind of interaction system has a lot of potential. It just has some clunky aspects to be ironed out.
Aesthetics
Ultima 7 was very good-looking for its time, and although modern players will not be very impressed by how it looks or sounds, it still remains easily legible in a way that some other old games are not. That, and the ability to identify anything with just a left click, makes this a very easy game to make out at the very least.
Some of the music of this game is very distinctive too, and will likely stay with you after a full playthrough.
In terms of style, the Black Gate does have a bit of an identity while still having a very familiar medieval fantasy setting with things like trolls, animated skeletons, dragons, and liches. While there are aspects that help the setting distinguish itself a bit, they are relatively subtle.
If I had to describe the feeling of playing this, I’d call it “open and laid back”. While the main quest deals with a looming threat to the entire world, the game does not follow this overly closely at first, letting you deal with it at your own pace and without having your exploration options limited by the story.
In fact, when I was young I often just ignored that and went to live in a creepy ruin in the swamp.
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(Don’t expect many pictures in these reviews, but have one of my “childhood home.”)
I’d say that Ultima 7′s second part (Serpent Isle) has a much stronger and also darker and more isolating atmosphere overall and that has a lot of appeal to me in particular, but the Black Gate is definitely more open and less linear, and I also appreciate that.
Accessibility
It pleases me to say that Ultima 7 remains extremely easy to pick up and play. Even setting up Exult is not complicated in the least.
The gameplay is intuitive and simple, the UI is minimal, stats are basic (and not even that important), and the combat is automatic. I expect that this is not only the easiest point of entry into the Ultima series as a whole but also likely even easier to get into than many modern RPGs!
It does have some aspects that may be a bit clunky, like all the inventory-related dragging, but it’s definitely not obscure or complicated even to someone who has not read the manual (though I’d still recommend doing that). I literally played this game as a tiny child who could barely read or understand English and still got really into it.
The one thing I’d like to point out is that the game uses a type of copy protection where at a couple of story points (including an extremely early one to leave the first town) you will be asked some questions that require using the manual and external map to answer. You can just google the answers for these.
Conclusion
As I write more of these reviews there will be many games that are interesting, but deeply flawed. Games that are worth trying out but maybe not finishing, as well as games that had interesting ideas but that I can’t entirely recommend due to serious problems that will easily put people off.
But I do not think the Black Gate is such a game. I can easily recommend it with no qualifiers despite the fact that it is almost 30 years old. This is really a game that all RPG fans should at the very least try for a few hours, and not only for its historical significance. It is genuinely a good game worthy of its praise.
I will review its sequel, Ultima VII Part 2: Serpent Isle, next.
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1dsource · 4 years
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Ziam writers in this fandom need a lot of love, just like our larry writers, so here is our first Ziam fic rec! The theme of this fic rec is Friends to Lovers!
Please show these authors some extra love and leave a kudos, and even a comment if you have the time. It’s important we also give the newer, unknown authors a chance so they keep having motivation to write more amazing stories for us all to read <3
Fools, and Worthless Liars. by aliceninetyfive I 115K I Haunted hotel, winter
Louis and Liam decide to go work a winter season in a snow resort in the Alps during their gap year. They get placed in Austria, where they meet a bunch of familiar faces including Zayn, Harry, Niall and various others you're bound to recognise doing the same thing!
Featuring our old favourites angst, pining, self discovery, ot5, and a side helping of a haunted hotel & gorgeous alpine scenery.
Compartment 451 by ziamhaze I 88K I Harry Potter universe
Zayn’s a muggleborn wizard whose parents leave him to fend for himself once he’s made aware of his magical abilities. The Payne’s are an open minded wizarding family, who take him in and provide the boy with a loving home before he and their overly excited son Liam, go off to Hogwarts for the first time. Liam introduces Zayn to the wonderful world of magic, while Zayn teaches the pureblood about a way of life he’s never known. Somewhere between laser tag tutorials and petting Hebridean Black dragons, Zayn falls for the newly appointed Head Boy, but his three other nonconforming friends aren’t about to let the Ravenclaw go through his last year of school without letting Liam in on his feelings once and for all.
Money Moves by mmaree I 74K I Fake Relationship I Boss/Employee
“I’ll cut straight to the chase,” Liam announces. He leans forward, and Zayn is met with steely eyes and steepled fingers. “I’m willing to offer you fifty grand if you’ll enter into a small…partnership with me. This would be in addition to your salary at Payne Innovations, of course. Think of it as a bonus.”
Zayn narrows his eyes. “What kind of partnership?”
“A fake engagement.”
“Oh,” Zayn says, relieved it’s nothing illegal. “Wait—what?”
“A fake engagement,” his boss repeats slowly, as if he’s convinced Zayn’s comprehension skills are significantly lacking. “For six months. Maybe less if I can pull it off sooner but don’t worry—you’ll be paid the full sum regardless of how long it takes.”
Zayn’s suspicious, and he doesn’t even know why. There’s nothing to be suspicious of because, clearly, Liam’s lost the plot. Zayn’s having a conversation with a complete nutter. There’s no other reasonable explanation.
He clears his throat, searches Liam’s eyes for a sign he's taking the piss. “How long what takes?”
A smile plays at Liam’s lips. “For me to be hired as the CTO at Titan Technologies.”
Half A Heart by ginger_with_a_black_cat I 68K I Friends with Benefits
Zayn is an English student who doesn't want to fall in love because his biggest fear is to get hurt again. Liam is a resident bad boy and everyone's wet dream on the outside, but in the inside he's a secret even to himself. Harry's Liam's best friend with a secret of his own. Louis likes to party hard, get drunk and get everyone in trouble but everybody loves him nonetheless. And then, there's Niall, who's the youngest of them all, but still has the most brains and keeps them all in order all while being in love with an impossible girl.
Or where Zayn gets hit in the head by his own actions, Liam finds himself falling for an idiot, Harry gets dragged out of the closet by the love of his life, Louis wants Harry and only Harry and Niall just wants all of them to get their shit together, so he can get his own life back.
and you take me the way i am by orphan_account I 54K I Fake Relationship
It’s incredibly relaxing, even in this small space, the way they’ve always been. Such a distraction that he doesn’t think, not for once, about agreeing to lie to his family and Zayn pretending to be his date and how easy all of this might be.
(Liam needs a date to a wedding. His family loves to match him up with blind dates. He doesn't want that. He needs a date... and, well, why not Zayn. Pretending to be boyfriends for a weekend isn't the worst idea he supposes. Liam is horribly wrong.)
some moments are rare by orphan_account I 46K I Uni au
The city blinks awake outside but Zayn falls asleep with his nose pressed to Liam’s coffee-stain of a birthmark.
(or, alternatively: Zayn is spending a summer studying aboard; thirty days across Europe, with his best mate by his side. It's always been like this ― Zayn and Liam. And he's always been a bit daft about love, or the fact that Liam's always been in love with him. It's all a bit of a mess, actually.)
Just As Fast, Twice As Dangerous by lightswoodmagic I 45K I Superpowers
When he realised it was only him and Liam in the hallway, he felt safe enough to drop his shield. Oh. Lovely. Liam was emanating affection and fondness, his primary emotions filled with warmth and love. Zayn let himself bask in it, how it would feel to be loved by Liam. He knew Liam loved him, but he wasn’t in love with him; Zayn had felt that emotion too many times to count, and this just wasn’t it. He dug slightly deeper, could feel that Liam was excited and nervous, and when he hit a wall Liam had built himself, he dropped back. He wasn’t supposed to know everything.
Or, Zayn's a normal student by day, and a superhero by night. When a mysterious man seems to target him at the same time a natural disaster strikes, Zayn has to figure out a way to save the day, protect his heart, and convince the boys he's not a vigilante all at the same time.
down the vista of years by ohthathurt I 30K I Time Travel
Zayn whispered, “So where do we go from here?”
Liam shrugged, seemingly lost in thought. Then he smiled down at his boyfriend, “Forward?”
Zayn smiled serenely, eyes twinkling like gold in the sun seeping through the open windows.
He nodded, “Forward.”
Just the two of us and a cute little cup of cyanide by orphan_account I 17K I Accidental Marriage
“I definitely need something alcoholic if I’m going to watch my two best mates divorce,” Niall says, yanking a top over his head.
“We’re not actually married,” Liam says, with slightly more force than intended. “It was an accident. Obviously I wouldn’t ever get married to Zayn if I was sober, that’s fucking ridiculous.”
The bathroom door opens suddenly and Zayn stands there in nothing but a towel, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Liam opens his mouth to say something but Zayn holds up his hand, shaking his head. “You don’t need to be a dick about it, Liam. This isn’t exactly how I envisioned my first marriage going either.”
Or an I-accidentally-married-my-best-mate-in-Vegas fic, where Liam's completely oblivious, Zayn's completely in love, Harry's had enough, Louis plays mediator and Niall just wants his best friends to be with each other.
i'm watching you run from the sidelines by thebeehive I 17K I 
“One week,” Zayn cajoled. “C’mon Leeyum. After one week if you hate it that much, you can go. But just stay one week.”
“In Pennsylvania. On your farm. In the middle of nowhere.”
Liam looked at his phone, but it held no answers. Zayn couldn’t be serious. Liam hadn’t stopped traveling the world after the band went on hiatus. He never stopped. Dubai one week, London the next, and then L.A. It didn’t really matter where, as long as he kept moving. But he missed Zayn, missed his former band mate. His former friend. He hadn’t seen him in person in years. And it couldn’t be that bad, on a farm, could it?
Liam sighed. “Fine. A week. But your wifi better be fucking spectacular, mate.”
{Or, Zayn invites Liam to his farm for a week to help him relax. Things don’t go as planned.}
fooled around and fell in love by tachycardia I 15K I Fake Relationship
“I have a proposal - a proposition,” Liam corrects quickly. “For you.”
Liam and Zayn pretend to be engaged.
a river flows so surely to the sea by kettering I 14K I Uni au
It’s August, not a cloud in the sky, and two boys who’ve been smitten with each other for going on a decade are tying the knot.
get a little bit nervous by louistomlinsons I 14K I 
Liam goes to say something, probably something dumb, but he chokes on his spit, coughing loudly. The man in front of him is one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen in his life; he’s got thick eyelashes that fan out and frame his dark eyes and tanned unblemished skin. Liam forgets all of his previous thoughts.
“You okay, mate?” he asks, concern filtering into his voice.
“Yeah, yeah,” Liam says, still choking and coughing. “Sorry.”
“We all reacted the same way we saw Zayn for the first time,” Niall says from next to him, laughter evident in his tone. “He’s a god, isn’t he?”
or, ziam farmer's market au where liam, louis, and niall work at the produce stand, harry and zayn work at the bakery stand, and nobody's straight
Tell me tomorrow (I'll wait by the window for you) by orphan_account I 13K
“You’re, like, beautiful,” Liam says, and it’s said so earnestly and with such conviction that Zayn can hardly believe that they don’t know each other in real life. “God, I’m cacking it now.”
“Don’t,” Zayn says shyly. “We’re both people, it… it will be what it will.”
“Can’t wait,” Liam says softly. “I’m nervous, yeah, but I really can’t fucking wait.”
“Me neither,” Zayn grins. “Less than seventeen hours to go now, babe.”
Or a Gavin and Stacey AU where Zayn pines, Liam's nervous, Louis's loud, Harry's a little odd and Niall just loves an omelette.
This Is Somethin' Real by lightswoodmagic I 5K I 
Zayn had felt it before, felt the hope and the possibility of something brewing, but where he usually pushed it down, he let it consume him now, let it take over everything until he was swinging his feet and grinning when Niall finally walked through the door.
“Lads!”
“Nialler!” Louis shouted, wrapping him up in a hug.
“How is everyo – woah, why are you so happy?” he asked Zayn, cackling when Zayn kicked out at him.
“He’s going to tell Payno he’s in love with him tonight, that’s why,” Louis explained, and Zayn saw Harry’s nose scrunch as he smiled.
Again, if you read, please remember to leave kudos and/or a comment so we keep motivating our lovely, talented writers and make them feel valued
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howtosingit · 3 years
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ooh I’m intrigued by all of these! but most intrigued by Next To You (because I’m absolutely obsessed with it), The Nanny, and So Much For Our Happy Ending!
Thanks, Anon!
1. Next to You (That's Where I Want to Be)
Ah, the college AU that refuses to write itself, forever keeping me awake at night as the guilt of not finishing it threatens to consume me! 😂
But, seriously, it will be finished one day, hopefully before the end of this calendar year. I mentioned earlier this week, but the next chapter won't be released until the rest of the fic is written. Only three chapters left! The next one is the March chapter, which will take place over spring break. The group is going on a little trip and TK and Carlos will finally get to share a bed larger than their twin-sized dorm beds... and they will be making full use of that extra space, let me tell you!
How about a title drop? "Chapter Eight: March | Break Away to South Padre"
5. The Nanny
Fully inspired by Carlos babysitting the Vega twins in 2x14 (and a tumblr post that I've lost track of), this fic features Carlos as Tommy's go-to babysitter. TK doesn't meet him until Tommy becomes his captain, and somehow he ends up at Tommy's place while she's out with Grace and Carlos is there watching the girls. They end up hanging out and playing games, and TK gets to see how much Evie and Izzy adore him, which definitely leads to him catching some feelings, too... which may or may not have been Tommy's plan all along? 🤷🏻‍♂️
20. So Much For Our Happy Ending
I talked about this one here!
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Ask me about my WIPs!
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getthesamovarready · 4 years
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She sure is pretty, you sure are grinning
Judd/Grace
@911couplesretreat day 4
Howdy." The bell jingles above his head. 
"Howdy." The barista responds,  she's new  he's never seen her before. And damn, if he had, he would have remembered. "What can I get you?"
He forgets his order. He's in here like every day, and it is the easiest order anyone could think of. But he forgets it. "Uhhh…coffee…" Well yeah, Judd, it's a coffee shop. "With uh...creamer." It's humiliating, and he flushes, but she's smiling at him with her eyebrows raised, and hell, it might be okay.
"Sure thing Cowboy." She smirks at him, and his hand twitches, begging to tuck the hat behind his back. But that would be way too obvious, so he waits until she has turned away to let it drop at his side. "Coffee, with creamer." She slides it across the counter with a lopsided smirk. 
His tip is twice his total.
Xx
"Cowboy!" She beams the next day. "Coffee with creamer?" She's already reaching for the carton when he shakes his head.
"Uh...actually can I get a…" He glances at the board behind her. "Can I get a latte?" It might be the only thing there that he is certain of how to actually say it. And even if it does make him feel ridiculous, it feels a little like an achievement. 
She turns with a small nod, bouncing lightly on her feet while she pulls his espresso. "You here every day?" She calls, not looking at him. 
"Almost, yeah." Whenever he goes on shift at least. "What about you? You're new."
"First week." She takes a second to glance back at him. "I think I’ll be sticking around. I’m a friend of the owner.” Oh. That could work in his favour. 
That's the whole reason he comes in here and not the one closer to the station. Maybe he is sucking up to Vega just a little, but he's allowed. 
"Me too." He replies, just a little too enthusiastically. "Well, I work with Tommy." She seems to appreciate the clarification, or maybe his calming down. "Judd." 
"Grace." She holds out her hand when she sets his coffee on the counter. It's warm, and he can't help the smile it causes. "I'll see you around then?" 
"Sure will." He nods, because how could he not come back? 
Xx
The next time, he gets two coffees. Because he can't just keep ordering different coffees every day to keep her talking longer. 
"Are you… are you flirting with me?" Michelle scoffs when he hands her the spare coffee. "What even is this?"
"It's coffee. Not flirting." He huffs, considering taking it back. "I am not flirting with you." Maybe he puts too much emphasis on his last word, because Michelle grins. 
"Judson…" She teases. "Why did you get two coffees?" 
"Just trying to do a nice thing." 
She doesn't believe him for even half a second, hopping up onto the counter top. "What even is this?" She sips. It's way too milky and frothy and sweet to be anything Judd would be caught dead ordering. "You literally argued with me about sugar in coffee, and then you order me this?" 
"You like sugar in your coffee." He counters. 
Xx
The next day is another sweet coffee, totally different from the day before. "Are you stalking your barista or something?"He flushes deep red, turning away from her. "Oh my God! You are!"
"No I am not. I'm getting coffee before work, like anyone else." So what if he got three coffees that he doesn't even want to drink. 
"You're getting the whole team coffee. You can suck up to the Captain all you want, it's not going to change your results. He already likes you anyway." If only that was the point of this. "I'm sure the girl likes you too. You're very likeable...eventually."
This is why he likes her, and why the suggestion that he might have been flirting with her was so damn bizarre. She's like an annoying, overbearing big sister. 
Xx
An annoying sister that is really loving to watch him suffer. And she's definitely enjoying the sugary coffee he supplies her with every morning. 
"Trying to suck up to your Captain, Ryder?" Tommy eyes the tray of coffee in Judd's hand. "Or trying to suck up to me?"
"He's trying to flirt with your barista." Michelle sets her straight. "Probie has a little bit of a crush."
More like a massive, all-consuming crush. Little ain't even close. 
"We ain't friends no more." He snaps at Michelle, pulling the tray of coffee away from her outstretched hand. 
"You're a good one Ryder." Tommy smirks. "Maybe I'll put a word in with her." 
"Absolutely not, do not do that."
Xx
They spend the entire shift talking about it though, so he rushes to the cafe at the first opportunity. Because there's no way this could be more humiliating that having Tommy and Michelle do this for him. He's bone tired after his shift, but he propels himself through the door on little other than anxiety. 
"Howdy." She greets warmly, waiting for his inevitable string of orders. "You just off shift?"
"Uh, yeah…" He mumbles.
"What can I get you?" It's just his order today, and it reminds him that he has to get this done before Vega stops by and catches him. 
"Dinner?" He blurts. Smooth Ryder, smooth.
"Dinner? Are you?"
"Yes, yes, I'm asking you on a date, and yes I'm just as surprised as you are." Because this time yesterday, he was pretty content to just keep ordering coffee and not drinking it forever. 
"Well alright then." She nods once, slipping off to the machine. "You're off Thursday night?" 
"Uh...yeah." Did she just say yes?
"Meet me here at seven." She sets a cup in front of him.
Coffee with creamer. 
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sourbat · 4 years
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Magseth 35 or 48
shackles 
warning: language; implied sexual content 
“Just you wait and see, Seth,” Magnus chimes with a low hum. He flops onto the cheap hotel bed, folds his long arms behind his head and utters another hectic cackle.
Seth merely glances at the reflection and can tell there’s no point in trying to butt-in once Magnus gets started. He waits for the opportune moment, when Magnus is done devising his fantastical conspiracies, then meets his stare in the mirror and says, “Right, Mags.”
“We’re so close.” Magnus kicks off a boot. “I’ve made the calls. Spoken with the man.”
“Uh-huh.”
Another boot flies into the air. In the reflection, Seth watches as Magnus jerks about, trying and failing to relax. It’s always a sight to behold. Seth’s seen some passionate men, but Magnus puts it to a whole other level. His wild hair drapes over each sharp, frantic movement, and once he catches Seth’s curious stare, misinterprets it as similar, unhinged interest. “He’s going to meet with us real soon.”
Seth nods at the reflection. “Sure ‘ting, Mags.”
“We’ll have Dethklok where we want them!” Magnus declares with a near crazed yell. He curls himself back up, sitting upright and following Seth’s movement as he breaks from the mirror. “I’ll finally…we’ll–”
Seth circles around the bed, not minding the groans of old springs that he’s since grown accustomed to. No hotel bed can compare to the plush mattresses of his glory days, but Seth finds comfort in knowing he’s sharing his bed with better company.
“We’ll get our revenge, yeah?” Seth finishes, plastering a cocky grin that riles up the taller of two, gets Magnus crawling to the edge of the bed, slipping away and reappearing behind Seth the moment he slides the closet shut.
Long fingers curl and dig into Seth’s shoulder. “I’ll make your brother pay.”
Seth feels the longing under the pressure, though he can’t say whether it’s for him, or for revenge.
It’s admittedly getting harder to tell with Magnus.
Seth glances down at the remains of the cheap suits he’s wearing, thinks of a time where he’d have maids throw Versace tops that had stains on them from a life of overabundance, and when it flashes to now, to Magnus breathing up his neck and telling him he’ll make him feel like a man again, Seth admits to himself that it’s getting harder for him to tell what he wants more.  
There was a time where he’d obsessed over the prospects of getting his revenge on the band; more specifically, the woman Pickles hired to accost and tempt his now ex-wife. A nasty divorce and powerful lawyers left Seth with hardly anything, A few days later, he received a call from Mordhaus letting him know Amber and her lesbo-girlfriend were going to be handling Australia from here on end.
Revenge consumed his mind back then. Other thoughts, too. It was right about when Seth received his farewell basket from Dethklok, and those darker thoughts began to seep out the cracks of his broken mind, did Magnus appear before him. Right out of the shadows, and donning a handsome grin that reminded Seth of the bible. Something about the devil being handsome. Couldn’t remember the whole saying, but Seth could tell just by looking at him he was nothing but trouble, and considering Dethklok’s gift basket came with a loaded gun, was thankful Magnus had arrived just in the nick of time.
For a while, their obsession for revenge kept them together. They’d bitch and gripe about how Dethklok always had it easy, how much harder they had to work just to get some meager scraps of validation, only to have the band proceed to fuck the while they were down. Seth laughed when Magnus told him about the knife, and Magnus laughed at recited childhood memories starring a smaller, weaker Pickles. Seth told Magnus of his dream to win Amber back, to get back at that bitch Abigail. Seth told Magnus he didn’t even need Amber, because all women were disloyal anyways, so what was the point. Seth told Magnus not to worry about the gray, because it made him look cool. The eye made him look intimidatin’. No shirt? No problem. 
Then something happens. Nine months pass, and neither of them are any closer than when they started. Sure, Mags gets a call from some unknown number, and if Seth is lucky, he catches a few words of the harsh graveled voice on the other line while Magnus takes notes and directions. They drive around to various states, pick up some folks so shady Seth spends the remainder of the drive eyeing the glove compartment with the hunting knife in it, preparing for the worst. They drop off the spooks in some undisclosed location, meet with even spookier names and faces that Seth can’t believe are real, and then they start all over. 
“What’s wrong?” Magnus breathes the words into Seth’s neck. Hands slide under the bottom of his faded shirt, and the same probing fingers from before consume Seth’s senses. Magnus purrs a loving noise into his ear. “Come on,” he says, “tell me what you plan on doing with those women…”
He hasn’t thought about Amber for days. Hard to think about some useless woman when he’s got the dictionary definition of “tall, dark and handsome” tasting every inch of him whenever he has the chance. Weirdly enough, it's the same handsome fellow that’s making him think of her in the first place. 
But that’s the problem, now. It’s almost been a year, and now Seth is over the divorce. He’s done thinking about whatever the hell Amber and that girlfriend of her’s are up to, and he’s sure as shit doesn’t want to think about them running Dethklok Australia. He doesn’t want to think about anything related to Dethklok. He’s sick of Dethklok, and if it weren’t for Magnus’ unyielding obsession, would have told the guy to “give it up,” and with the rest of their money, drive their asses Vegas. He wants to take Magnus to see his favorite burlesque show, use the rest of his money on a nice dinner, and maybe have a nasty threesome.
He doesn’t want to spend the last of his draining account recruiting stooges. He doesn’t want to spend another dime on Dethklok.
Hands wrap around Seth’s lanky waist. “Seth.”
Another blink, and Seth feels the weight of the band pressing against his back, but when he blinks a second time, realizes it’s only Magnus holding on to him.  Slightly shaken, Seth shudders. “Take the lead, Mags,” he says through closing eyes. “Yer, uhh, really getting’ me rollin’. Keep talkin’ about what yer going to do with that Euro-dood.”
Magnus won't. Won't, or maybe can’t, but whatever the case, the guy’s obsessed with Dethklok to the extreme. Magnus talks about their rabid fans, but doesn’t see the irony when he spends late nights ranting about how he was wronged, how shitty each member is, how he’s got to get his revenge on them, gotta finalize his plans. He doesn’t seem to mind spending what little he has all in the name of revenge. Revenge for Dethklok. Seth’s asked a few times what those plans were, but never got a straight answer from Mags. It was then he knew he couldn’t say anything at all, because Magnus didn’t have a plan, and the second Seth dared to bring it up, risked losing the only thing that was currently keeping them together.
Not revenge… 
“Soon, Seth,” Magnus sighs lovingly into Seth’s ear. His arms return around Seth’s waist, wrapping him into a gentle embrace. “Everything you wanted will come to fruition soon. I’ll make it happen.”
Seth says nothing, but gives a sound that Magnus takes for a sigh. He draws closer, taking blankets and sheets with him. Magnus gives Seth an affectionate squeeze, one that makes him want nothing more than to see Magnus happy, but also sends another dreaded shudder at the press of his hands, and is reminded of the shackles that keep Magnus locked in place.
The very thing he wants nothing to do with.
The only thing holding them together.
Dethklok.
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silly-billy-bean · 4 years
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Paul Blart Essay Two: Electric Blartaloo (an essay by Red)
American Thanksgiving has come and gone, and with it, Paul Blart Mall Cop Two season. A lot of little things clicked this watch, so this essay will not be a massive theory explanation. It will go into each individual point that came together this watch. For a full explanation of the Blartverse as I see it, I wrote an entire other essay about it. Go read it here to not be confused. 
On my most recent watch of PB2, I came to the conclusion that Donna was under the Shadowman’s influence. The scene where she is first introduced she deliberately misleads Paul Blart and punches him in the throat. There is no reason for this other than the Shadowman’s shadowy schemes. Then there’s the fight scene, where she is not knocked over by a solid kick to the whole body, this is fucking weird. Frankly, Donna is superhuman. She definitely has been magically protected by something, The Shadowman. This causes issues in the fight scene specifically, if we assume that both Donna and Vince’s gang are under the Shadowman’s control. Option one is that only Vince is directly touched by The Shadowman, and this is why his lackey could fight Donna instead of Vince fighting Donna. The second option is that The Shadowman’s schemes are becoming too complicated even for him to keep separate. He has a lot of pawns in his grasp and it’s only fair to cut him some slack in that department. There is a tiny chance that she is instead under Paul Blart’s protection or the angels’ protection. However, this is astronomically implausible. Paul Blart is not shown to be willing or capable to give some of his power to non-Blarts. Being around a Blart is not an automatic path to invincibility, as shown by everyone else around him. Specifically his mother, who did not hold the power and is thus bested by a milk truck. The angels would have very little to do with Donna, there’s no evidence for them interfering with her one way or another. Granted, there’s very little focus over all on the angels because the writers are cowards so I work with what little I’ve got. 
So the contemplation garden is a portal to the shadow dimension. When Paul Blart exits the green room before his big speech through a door marked “Showtime” he is shown immediately going into the Contemplation Garden. This is weird. Later, the entrance to the contemplation garden is shown to be somewhere completely different. This garden is the only place where the shadowman can be near Paul Blart because it’s a little piece of his own home dimension. This also explains the bird thing. Why is there a Grey Crowned Crane in a Las Vegas hotel? Who brought it here? Who is letting it attack guests? Who is feeding it? Why isn’t it leaving the Contemplation Garden? These plot holes can be solved with a simple theory of a shadow plane and a few portals scattered around the hotel.
This viewing I also picked up on a key piece of evidence to support the core of all my theories, Paul Blart’s imperviousness to physical harm. “My body’s fine, it’s my ego that took the hit,” Paul says, eating peanut M&Ms while laying on his back. This simple line validated my entire theory. Paul’s body is unable to be harmed. I, personally, am shocked that a car hitting him was the point at which his ego became injured. It somehow wasn’t the stupid little segway dance he did just seconds before. Although, his entire life is about as humiliating as that so maybe he’s used to it. Perhaps he’s immune to embarrassment after years of being Paul Blart: Mall Cop. 
The reason that Divinia is so horny for Blart despite having a boyfriend is that she sensed his immortal power. There’s no other reason for this sudden abandonment of Eduardo for this stink man. I cannot fathom that she felt any genuine attraction to Paul Blart’s horrible soul. Divinia must just be sensitive to his powers.
One interaction that bugged me until this watch happened when Maya and Lane were kidnapped. 
“Maya: They’re stealing art from the hotel!
Lane: From the what?
Maya: From the hotel!”
This exchange is fucking wild. In canon, Lane works at the hotel. He spends all his days at the hotel. He is currently in the hotel. Either Lane is that hard-of-hearing representation that I so dearly crave, or he is only in the hotel to do his angelic business or protecting Maya. It can be both. 
I believe I have solved the hypoglycemia debacle. In case you didn't know, the way that PB2 portrays hypoglycemia is “If my blood pressure drops, so do I.” which is massively incorrect. I struggle to comprehend the thought process of the writers of this movie most times, but here I’m one hundred percent sure neither of them knew what hypoglycemia was and refused to look it up. When Paul Blart passes out because of “lack of sugar” he consumes the droplets of a little girl’s melting ice cream. That ice cream that Paul Blart slobbers up can’t just be ice cream, it’s magical, because he springs up immediately after. The family’s conversation is absolutely buck-wild, there’s no way they’re humans. The daughter says “Look at the pretty flowers, Daddy, can I draw on them?” which can’t possibly be a thing that a human says. The younger daughter’s ice cream must be supernatural in origin along with the family to have reinvigorated Paul so quickly. If we follow this logic, the audience can confirm once and for all that Paul Blart definitely doesn’t have hypoglycemia. That’s not how it works, Kevin James. You need to stop.
All in all, this movie sucks ass. I, Red, formally challenge Kevin James to an interview/interrogation. I have so many questions and want to look at the man who willingly made this dumpster movie in the eyes. I hope Paul Blart stubs his toe every day forever. This being said, I will probably watch this movie again before next thanksgiving. 
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